You couldn't ask for a better friend than Cowboy Pickles. He has a recording studio outside Washington, D.C. It’s a studio, yes. But it’s really just a small spare room, in his humble home that’s close to the University of Maryland.I did the first Slim Man CD there. The second one, too.The room is about 20 feet long and 15 feet wide. It is stacked, floor-to-ceiling with audio equipment—old, new and everything in-between.Cowboy has never gotten rid of anything. Fender Rhodes electric pianos, old Hammond B3 organs, Hohner Clavinets, Mini-Moogs, Commodore 64 computers, old JBL speakers, amplifiers, cassette recorders, 8 track tape machines…every microphone, guitar, keyboard he's ever bought, he still owns. Some of it is junk. Some of it is priceless.Cowboy Pickles has an old rifle by the studio door—the kind you might see in an old Western movie. He has an ax--a big ax--by his toilet, as if he were expecting some crazed Meth-Head to come crashing through his bathroom window.Walking through the studio is like walking through a small maze. One false move and a wall of junk might fall on you and bust your cranium.
Batu loves Cowboy Pickles’ studio. He lays down on the floor and listens to the music, eyes half-closed like he’s in a state of bliss.The Pickles Compound is near a railroad track. It’s close to a small airport. And it’s so close to the University of Maryland that you can hear the marching band rehearsing in the distance.Cowboy Pickles gets some amazing sounds out of that little spare room.Recording vocals was a challenge. The timing had to be just right or else the microphone would pick up all those noises…planes taking off, trains passing by.And the air conditioner had to be shut off or else the mic would pick up the hum. Which wasn’t bad in winter. But in the dead of summer, when it’s 90 degrees and 90% humidity, it was murder without AC.And we did most of our recording in the summer. Cowboy Pickles is a music teacher--he gives private piano and guitar lessons. And when his students went on summer vacation, we'd have a lot of time to record.Whenever we got ready to do vocals, we’d shut off the AC. Then we’d open the windows and listen for…planes, trains, marching bands, lawn mowers, dogs barking.If all was quiet on the Eastern Front, we’d record.Sometimes, we’d get a great vocal take. But when we’d listen back to the track all by itself, we’d sometimes hear a plane landing. Or a train going by. Or a car horn.Birds chirping was OK. I kinda liked the way it sounded.But a marching band…unless it was somehow miraculously in time with the song we were working on, we’d have to start all over. Any time there was an open microphone—vocals, sax, etc., we had to listen closely for all kinds of extraneous noises.Most of them we caught. Some we didn't...We were mixing a song called Shelter From A Storm, from the stunning Slim Man debut CD, "End of the Rainbow." Mixing is the final part of the process where you determine the volume and tone of the tracks you've recorded. We were listening to the song, and I heard the phone ring. I yelled to Cowboy Pickles...“Answer the phone!”Cowboy picked up the phone. No one there.We went back to mixing the song. I heard the phone ring again.“Answer the phone!”Cowboy picked up. No one there. It happened a third time. We stopped mixing. We took a listen to my vocal track. We listened to it ‘solo’, which means…all by itself.And sure enough, there was a phone ringing on the vocal track. Plain as day. In one spot, you could hear…RRRRRRRRing!So we had a decision to make. Start all over…re-record the whole vocal track. Or just leave it in. We left it in.So…if you’re listening to the first Slim Man CD, and you hear a phone ringing…don’t answer it!When the CD was finished, we had a CD release party and concert at a club in downtown Baltimore. We invited every newspaper, magazine, reporter, TV station, radio station--we invited everybody. Anybody.Nobody showed up. I counted 16 people in a place that held 200. I went home that night, and was about as down-low as you can go. I was convinced the CD was gonna flop.I was playing piano at a waterfront dive bar in Baltimore called “The Horse You Came In On”. It’s one of the oldest bars in America. I played Friday afternoons, mostly to a group of guys that called themselves "The Knuckleheads".They wore hats like Fred Flintstone and Barney Rubble wore to their lodge meetings--hats that looked like furry coneheads with steerhorns sticking out each side.One Friday, the phone rang at the bar. The bartender, Annabelle, answered it, listened, and then called out:“Looks like you’re number 27!”I had no idea what she was talking about. Neither did The Knuckleheads. But apparently, the radio promoter I had hired was finally starting to get some interest.The next week…”You’re number 21!"It continued to climb the charts, week by week. It got all the way to #9. Nationwide.
So technically, it was a Top Ten Hit. We started selling tons of CDs, we went out on tour, we played all over the US and Europe…All from a little studio, in a spare room, next to an airport, near a train track and within earshot of a marching band.Codfish CakesIn Baltimore, where I spent most of my Slim Boyhood, almost every little grocery store had coddies--codfish cakes. The two ingredients were codfish and mashed potatoes. The coddies were displayed on a tray, along with Saltine crackers and plain yellow mustard.I loved ‘em.When codfish went on sale a few weeks ago at the local grocery store near Slim’s Shady Trailer Park in Palm Springs, I thought it would be a great time to create my own codfish cake recipe. I call my new creation...Slim Man’s Cod Pieces
INGREDIENTS3 medium Yukon gold potatoes, cut into cubes (about 2 cups)1 pound codfish filet, skinless, cut into cubes (about 2 cups)2 tablespoons minced shallot1 tablespoon minced garlic1 tablespoon chopped rosemary2 tablespoons butter4 tablespoons olive oilKosher salt, fresh cracked pepper…to taste6 cups water1 egg½ cup of panko breadcrumbs (I used Progresso Panko Italian Style)FlourHERE WE GO...Get a large pot, put in 6 cups of water or so, put it on the highest heat ya gots.Put the taters in the water.When almost tender—it took mine about 10 minutes after the water came to a boil—add the fish cubes. That's right, put the fish right in the boiling water with the potatoes.Cook for 5 minutes.Drain in a colander.
Put the fish and the potatoes in a bowl, add 1 tablespoon of butter, add salt and pepper, and mash coarsely.Let it sit and cool as you…Get a sauté pan and put it over medium heat. I used a 10-inch pan.Add 1 tablespoon of butter and 1 tablespoon of olive oil.When the butter starts to bubble, add the garlic and shallot.Saute for 3 minutes until the shallots are clear and the garlic is pale gold.Add the rosemary and stir a few times.
Cook for 2 minutes.Take the shallot/garlic/rosemary mixture that's in the pan and add it to the codfish and potatoes.Mix it up.Grab your egg, put it in a bowl, and beat it.Add it to the codfish and taters, and mix.Add the breadcrumbs and mix by hand.If the mixture is too liquidy, add more breadcrumbs.When the mixture feels right—not too liquidy, not too bready--make cakes.I like my cakes about the size of a yo-yo. This recipe yielded 8 codfish cakes.Put ‘em on a plate.Take the sauté pan that you used for the garlic/shallots/rosemary.Put it over medium-high heat.Add 3 tablespoons of olive oil.As the oil heats up…Get a flat plate, put some flour on it.Lightly dredge each codfish cake in the flour.When the olive oil is hot, put the cakes in the pan, and saute for 3 minutes, until the bottoms are golden brown.Flip ‘em over—be gentle--and cook on the other side for 3 minutes, until golden brown.Place on paper towels when done.Serve with spicy brown mustard, or plain old yellow mustard like we used to do in Bawlmer!
MANGIAMO!!!!!!!
Slim Man Cooks Potato Leek Soup
I was walking down the streets of Paris with Hit Man Howie Z when I heard a woman’s voice calling my name. This was weird, because it was my first time in Paris. I didn’t know anybody there. Who the hell could it be?I turned around and was staring at two of the most beautiful women I’d ever seen. One I knew.Her name was Barbie, and she used to be a cocktail waitress at a club that Howie and I used to play in Baltimore, Maryland, a place called Girard’s. The other gal I didn’t know. Barbie introduced us to her friend. When I asked Barbie what she was doing in Paris, she told me she was doing some modeling for Vogue magazine. She told me her friend had just been on the cover of the Italian Vogue.I invited them to dinner that night. It would probably cost every penny I had, but how many times are you gonna have an opportunity like this? Paris? Supermodels?When Barbie asked me what Howie and I were doing in Paris, I told to her that we were in London, trying to get something going with our band, BootCamp. Howie and I had come over to Paris to meet my cousin, Mindy, who was having her art exhibited at a gallery.
That’s what I told them, which was all true, but not the whole truth. The whole truth?We had rented a cheap flat in London for a week or so. It was me, Howie (drums), Bob (guitar) and a friend of ours named Mac. We were struggling musicians, except for Mac. He didn’t look like he was struggling--he was wearing custom silk suits and buying expensive antiques.The rest of us were on a real tight budget.One evening we went to a pub and had some drinks. We were having a good ol’ time in LondonTown. I noticed Mac in the corner, talking to some Rastafarian. He gave Mac a little package, and then RastaMan screamed, "RUN!" All hell broke loose.A couple of British policemen started running towards the pub, blowing their whistles. We took off running. We exploded out of that pub. We ran through yards, gardens. We sprinted down alleys, leaping over cars. We jumped fences. It’s amazing how fast you move when cops are chasing you. Not that it happens to me very often.We made it back to the flat. How, I don’t know. Turns out Mac had bought some hashish from the Jamaican. It seemed to me like a good time to get out of London.So Howie and I took off for Paris. We got on a Hovercraft to cross the English Channel. A Hovercraft is a huge boat. Massive. It sits on what looks like an immense flat tire. You board the boat, and they inflate the tire. So you start rising and rising, way up in the air.They turn on these gigantic fans on the back of the boat, and it blows you across the water, like you’re on a huge inner tube. The English Channel was choppy that day. It was a real rough ride. And Howie was really hungover from the night before.He laid down on a row of seats behind me. Every few minutes, he’d poke his head up, and each time he did, he was a different shade of green. He looked like he was gonna die. We finally made it across the Channel, and caught a train to Paris.My cousin picked us up. She's quite an artist. Her paintings are intriguing and original and worthy of an exhibition. She gave us a ride to the apartment where she was staying with a friend.
Her friend’s name was Jaime, and he was quite a character. He was an artist, and did surreal paintings, similar in style to Salvador Dali. He had a goatee and long brown hair, and wore scarves and black crushed velvet smoking jackets with colored silk pocket squares. I dug his style.His apartment was cozy, comfy, and cool.A few days later, Howie and I were walking down the street when we met the Vogue supermodels.A few hours later, we were in a swanky restaurant in Paris called Chez Georges and it was intoxicating. The Russian chef guy came over to the table. If I were the chef, I would have come over to our table, too. The girls were that gorgeous.Chef dude started talking to us. He spoke into a microphone that was hooked up to a small speaker that hung around his neck. I didn’t understand a word he said; the speaker was distorted, and I couldn’t even tell what language it was. I thought it was some kind of comedy routine until I realized the guy had some serious vocal issues.We ordered dinner, and it was lovely. One of the many wonderful things about Europe is the way they take their time when they eat out.At the end of the dinner, Russian chef guy came back with a bottle of vodka. No label, just an old, clear bottle. It had all sorts of stuff in the bottom — black peppercorns, red peppers, green pepperoncini. It looked like birdseed soaking in grain alcohol.He placed a big metal shot glass in front of Howie and poured it full. He shouted something in Russian and motioned for Howie to drink. The table got real quiet. Russian chef barked out another order. We looked at Howie. He looked at us. He drank.After he swallowed, his eyes started to tear up. His face turned red. He started sweating. I thought his head was gonna explode. Then the mad Russian turned to me. He poured me a shot in the same metal glass. I looked around the table. He barked something in Russian and I picked up the glass and drank it all down.It was like swallowing a red-hot piece of charcoal. My throat was on fire. My eyes watered. I felt like I was gonna projectile vomit. But I didn’t.After dinner, we invited the girls back to Jaime’s apartment.That’s when the circus began. We walked in the front door and Jaime had a certain look in his eye. He looked at those girls like the Big Bad Wolf looking at Little Red Riding Hood.My grandmother had a dog named Pepe that tried to hump everyone who walked through the front door.Jaime wasn’t quite that bad. But Howie and I were hoping that maybe he would be going off to bed. No such luck. I think Jaime had other things in mind. We poured some drinks, and then Jaime turned on the French charm, full blast. Those poor girls. I think Jaime's libidinous lip-smacking might have scared them.The supermodels ran out of that place like it was on fire. If they had leapt from the balcony I wouldn’t have blamed them.We never saw them again. Just as well, I guess. Supermodels must be expensive girlfriends. Should I pay the mortgage? Or buy her a new handbag?Potato Leek Soup
If you’re looking for a French dish to cook after two supermodels have just walked out of your life, have I got a dish for you. The French call this vichyssoise.This soup is so quick, so easy, so inexpensive to make, I can’t believe I don’t make it more often.You can serve it hot. You can serve it chilled. You can serve it at room temperature. You can serve it chunky. Or you can put it in a blender and serve it smooth. It’s delicious. Which is the most important thing.The last time I made this soup, I thought it needed a little crunch on top. So I cut a leek into matchstick-size pieces, dusted them with flour that I had salted and peppered, and fried them for about a minute.When I served the soup, I stuck the slivers into the soup so it looked like a little teepee in the center of the bowl. My Dad would have smacked me on the back of the head and given me grief over that, but they tasted great, and it looked cool.You’ll need 4 leeks for the soup.Cut off about an inch of the white root at the bottom, and cut off most of the green upper part of the stalks. You’ll have about 6 or 7 inches or so of stalk left. RINSE WELL, especially in between the leaves.Peel off the outer leaf of each leek. You’ll use these for the garnish. You’ll also see just how dirty leeks can be. You gotta clean ‘em well!Chop up 4 of the stalks, into chunky pieces, which should give you 4 cups for the soup. Slice the leek leaves you pulled off into matchstick size slivers—you’ll fry these for the garnish.INGREDIENTSFor the soup…4 tablespoons butter4 cups chopped potatoes4 cups chopped leeks4 cups chicken broth (or vegetable)Salt and pepperFor the fried leeks:4 tablespoons of olive oil1/4 cup of flour4 whole leek leaves, cut into matchstick-size sliversSalt and pepperLet’s do the soup first…Put the butter in the bottom of a large pan over medium-low heat. Add the 4 cups of chopped potatoes, and the 4 cups of chopped leeks.Cook for 10 minutes, stir often.Add the broth--I used chicken—and put the heat on high. When the soup comes to a boil, reduce the heat to medium-low, add salt and fresh cracked black pepper, and cook for 30 minutes. Stir often.While the soup cooks, let’s sauté our leeks.
Get a sauté pan, put the olive oil in the bottom, and turn the heat to medium-high.Put the flour on a plate and add salt and pepper.Put the leek slivers in the flour, roll ‘em around, shake off the excess, and place in the sauté pan.Cook for about 30 seconds to 1 minute–until golden brown, then turn them over and cook for another 30 seconds to 1 minute on the other side until golden brown.Remove them from the pan and place them on paper towels.Now back to the soup…When the soup has cooked for 30 minutes, it should be done. Stick a fork in a piece of potato to make sure.At this point, you’ve got a decision to make - smooth or chunky. In cold weather, I like it chunky and hot — just like my women. In hot weather, I like it smooth and cool, like a supermodel.If you want it chunky, take a slotted spoon, or a masher, and mash the potatoes and leeks, right there in the pot.If you want it smooth, put the soup in a blender and give it a couple of pulses. If you want it chilled, stick it in the fridge for a little while.Put some soup in a bowl. Garnish with the fried leeks--make a little teepee in the center. Serve it with some hot and crusty bread and…
MANGIAMO!!!!!!!!!!
Slim Man Cooks Roasted Potatoes with Rosemary and Garlic
I got a call from Joyce. I was in Nashville, Tennessee. Music City USA. She was in Austin, Texas. She asked me if I could be an extra on the TV show ‘Nashville’. They had seen my photos online. I told her I’d think about it.I’d been an extra before on a Hugh Grant/Drew Barrymore movie in Manhattan, and it was quite an experience—a lot of waiting around, a lot of shooting the same scene a million times—but not something I felt like doing again. Not for $84, which is what I got paid for that 12 hour day.But Joyce kept calling me. She called and told me the director liked my look. She called and told me the shoot wasn't far from the Slim Shack. She called me so often, I felt like I was married. I finally told her I’d do the show. Joyce made me feel special. Plus, maybe the director would see me and cast me in a starring role in an upcoming episode...'Guinea Guy meets Cowgirl', or 'Mob Guy takes over Country Music Biz.' Could happen...Joyce sent me an email telling me to dress like I was going to the Grammys. The scene we were shooting was going to be a Country Music Awards show, and they wanted us dressed in evening clothes.The next morning, I drove from the Slim Shack in the Green Hills section of Nashville to the Tennessee Titans football stadium, which is downtown by the Cumberland River. I checked in to the extras 'holding' area, which was on the club level of the stadium. There were a couple hundred people there…So much for feeling special.The women extras were dressed in cocktail gowns and high heels and up-dos, and they looked great. Lovely. I’ve said this once, and I’ll say it again…in the history of the world, Lady Peoples have never looked better than they do today…the hair, the skin, the nails, the…everything.It was early in the morning. The gals, the guys...everybody was dressed in evening wear. Everyone except me. I wore a military jacket. It kinda looked like evening wear....if you were an officer in the Russian army at a ballroom dance in the 1800s.They put out a breakfast buffet, and after about an hour, we well-dressed extras--men and women--left the stadium, got on a big old school bus, and headed to the General Jackson, an old steamboat docked on the Cumberland River, next to the stadium.We boarded the steamboat, and went into the concert area--a ballroom on the first level that was decked out with a big raised stage. Tall cocktail tables were scattered around, and there was a second-floor balcony overlooking the whole scene.
The assistant director stood up, got everybody’s attention, and then described the scene we were about to shoot. An older female country singer, Rayna James, and her young rival, Juliette, are nominated for the same country music award—Female Vocalist of the Year. Juliette—played by Hayden Panettiere—shows up on the steamboat drunk, and does her new song on stage, all liquored up.That was the scene. We extras were the audience members, and we were directed to be puzzled by Hayden's drunken stumblings. The cameras started rolling…Action!Hayden/Juliette came out and sang her song. I’ll admit this—it was a really good song. I liked it.But I didn't like it so much after hearing it for five hours straight. They shot the scene over and over again. Every time they changed an angle, they'd have to re-position the lights. Re-position the cameras. And then everybody--extras and actors--would have to go back to the exact same spots, and do the exact same thing. They did a bunch of takes--five hours worth. Then Director Dude told us to take a break. We went up to a room on the third floor of the boat, where they had a folding table laid out with…Two big tubs of Costco peanut butter and jelly, loaves of bread, Tootsie Pops, and Goldfish crackers.It was a nice lunch--if you were in kindergarden. After about an hour, we went back down to the concert area and shot the same scene…over and over again. After about five more hours—at around 10 PM--we broke for dinner.We went back to the Titans stadium to the club level, and they had a big spread of food—lasagna, salad, fish, desserts. It wasn’t so bad. Better than PBJ…
After dinner, it was back to the boat. We waited and waited in an empty banquet hall. After a few hours, the assistant director walked in, and started looking over the extras. Then he looked at me and pointed his finger. I went over to where he was standing. He said…“We need a guy to play a slick record executive type, an older guy. Are you interested?”When he said “older guy” I felt like arm-wrestling the young whippersnapper to the ground and kicking his ass. But I just said “yes”.He walked me upstairs to where they were shooting the scene. It was being shot on the open-air top deck, which was spiffed up with lights and flowers and had a lovely view of downtown Nashville. It was freezing. I stood in a small group of people, and the prop guy handed me a glass of champagne…Joy. Except it wasn’t champagne, it was ginger ale. The director came over and told me what the scene was…one of the stars of the show, Scarlett, was coming over to talk to this small group of four folks, and I was supposed to have a fake conversation with this girl standing in front of me.Fake conversation? The director wanted me to move my lips, but not make any sound. They'd overdub the voices later. Plus, they have to pay you extra if you talk. So I had a fake conversation with my fake glass of champagne with this really good-looking girl.We finally wrapped up around 2:30 AM. We had been on the set for almost seventeen hours. Must have been hell for the girls in heels.Before we left, they instructed us to come back fifteen hours later--at 6 PM. A lot of folks didn’t show up. I did. I wanted some more peanut butter and jelly, which they had waiting for us when we arrived. Joy. It was freezing again, but this time I wore my Under Armour thermals. Really.We did another scene on the steamboat--the red carpet scene, where the BigWigs arrive at the awards party to check-in.The assistant director paired me up with two gals. They were gorgeous. We shot the ‘entering the awards party’ scene a bunch of times. I didn’t mind so much…
After a couple hours of shooting, we broke for dinner. About an hour later, we went back to work. We waited in a banquet room for a few hours for our next set of directions. It was 4 AM.People were nodding off. An assistant director walked into the room, came up to me and asked if I could be the “slick record executive” for the next scene. I accepted. He explained the scene:Limos pull up, pick up the BigWigs and whisk them away. Easy enough.We shot the scene outside the boat in the freezing drizzle. We shot it a bunch of times. A limo would pull up to the curb. The star of the show, Rayna James, would get in as I’m fake-talking to her manager--who gets left at the curb in the rain with Yours Truly. The limo would pull away...Once again, one scene took hours. When we wrapped, the sun was coming up. My boots were soaked and my feet were freezing. I went back home, got to the Slim Shack around 7 AM. Batu was waiting. I was starving. The only thing I had in the house?Peanut butter and jelly.
Roasted Red PotatoesAs a Manly Man, when I’m cooking for a Lady People, I have to be sensitive. I'm pretty sensitive already. It's been a common complaint from most of the Exes..."You're too sensitive."What do you say to that? "I'll try my best to be insensitive from now on?"When I'm cooking for a Slim Woman, I gotta be sensitive; make sure I don’t use butter and cream and fatty stuff. When cooking for the Lady Peoples, I don't fry--I'll bake or broil or roast. Roasted red potatoes is a good side dish when cooking for the Women Folk.You’ve got to keeps the ladies happy.Because if the ladies ain’t happy, you, my friend, ain’t happy.INGREDIENTS3 pounds small red potatoes¼ cup olive oil1 ½ tablespoons minced garlic3 tablespoons chopped fresh rosemary, plus a few sprigsKosher salt and fresh cracked black pepper to tasteHere we go...Preheat your oven to 400 degrees.Cut the potatoes in halves or quarters, depending how big yer taters are.Put them in a large bowl.Add the olive oil, and mix by hand, making sure they’re all coated.Add the rosemary and garlic, and mix again.Place them on a baking tray covered with aluminum foil (this be easier to clean that way).Sprinkle with salt and fresh cracked black pepper, then turn them over and sprinkle on the other side.Put the potatoes in the oven on the middle rack.Bake for 25 minutes.After 25 minutes, flip ‘em over with a spatula.Roast for another 25 minutes. Stick them with a fork--if it goes in easily, they're done. If not, put 'em back in the oven until they are.Plate ‘em up! Make ‘em look nice, add a sprig or two of fresh rosemary, and…
MANGIAMO!!
Grilled Salmon with Marsala and Merci, Philipe!
Grilled Salmon Marsala with Grilled Vegetables in World War II
My Dad told me that when his platoon was going across France behind General Patton in World War II, the towns they liberated were really grateful. How grateful?In one town, as they went past an exuberant, cheering crowd, a woman grabbed my Dad, dragged him into her bedroom and made love to him right then and there.Now that’s gratitude.Before the war, my Dad was drifting. He went to St. John’s College in Annapolis, Maryland. He wasn’t a good student. They put him in charge of the college café. He took some money out of the coffers, and in a valiant effort to try and double the cash, lost it all in a late-night poker game. He was asked to leave the school.Soon after, he joined the Army and went to Europe to fight in World War II. It was a hellish and brutal experience that made my Dad a man. His father, Romollo, died of a heart attack while my father was away at war. They were close; he couldn’t go back for the funeral. It was one of the loneliest times of my Dad’s life.After the war, he went back to St. John’s. He became a good student. He graduated. He went to law school. He became a lawyer. He did all of this with no money — he was the son of poor Italian immigrants.He became a member of the U.S. Commission on Civil Rights. He helped start the Peace Corps. He wrote speeches for Vice President Hubert Humphrey. He became a professor of philosophy and literature.World War II, the toughest time of his life, turned out to be his proudest moment, the turning point that changed his life in the best way possible.
My Dad was in the XVth Corps; they followed General Patton’s 3rd Army through France, liberating town after town. One of the towns the XVth Corps liberated was Lunéville, a small town in northeastern France, about 50 miles from the German border. Lunéville was still being bombed and strafed by the Germans. My Dad was patrolling the streets one day, when he heard a German Stuka approaching. Stukas were small bombers, two-seaters that also had machine guns. My Dad saw a one-armed Frenchman, frozen with fear.My Dad ran over, grabbed the Frenchman, and pushed him to the ground and covered him, bombs exploding, bullets flying. When the Stuka passed, the guy thanked my Dad, and insisted he come to dinner. My Dad spoke French; he had acted as an interpreter for the Army on quite a few occasions. He accepted the invitation. That night, my Dad had dinner with the Frenchman and his wife in their modest home. They sat and drank plum brandy after dinner as the Frenchman, a former captain in the French Army in World War I, told stories. He was a decorated war hero who had lost his arm in World War I. The German army had recently ransacked his home, taking his car and guns and war medals.Things got quiet when the captain started talking about his daughter, Jacqueline. He started crying as he explained that Jacqueline had been visiting a friend in a nearby town when the D-Day invasion took place and all hell broke loose. He hadn’t heard from her since. He feared the worse. He wanted to try and find his daughter, but the Germans had taken his car and guns. The Frenchman showed my Dad a photo. She was beautiful. My Dad offered to see what he could do to bring the daughter back. The Frenchman and his wife were ecstatic.My Dad left and went back to the makeshift barracks. He told the story of Jacqueline to his buddy Frank. He told Frank that he had offered to try and rescue Jacqueline. Frank thought my Dad was crazy. Or drunk. Or both.The next day, my Dad dragged Frank to see the French captain. My Dad told him they’d need a map, the address of the place Jacqueline had last visited, a letter from the captain so Jacqueline would know who they were, and the photo. The French captain gave them everything plus a 5,000-franc note for Jacqueline.My Dad and Frank left, and went back to the barracks. They were both on a two-day leave. Frank reluctantly agreed to help. But they didn’t have a jeep. They went over to the nurses quarters after sundown, figuring there might be a few male visitors who might have “borrowed” a jeep to get there.Frank and my Dad found a jeep and rolled it down the hill and started it. It had a mounted machine gun between the seats. The headlights had been blackened into little slits, and were of little use. They drove in the night. It started to rain. The windshield had been removed, so visibility was low. There were small pockets of German soldiers still in the area, and there were rumors of German soldiers dressed as civilians.My Dad and Frank were trying to get to Heudicourt-sous-les-Cotes, a small town about 60 miles away where Jacqueline had last visited. The rain and the lack of visibility slowed them down; they made it halfway there, soaked to the bone and dead-tired. They slept on the floor of a roadside house that belonged to a Frenchwoman who let them doze in front of her fireplace, so they could dry off and rest.The next day they made it to Heudicourt. They went to the address and showed the woman the photo and the letter. She explained that Jacqueline had caught a ride a few days before to stay with an uncle in Verdun, a small town 25 miles to the north. She gave them the address, and my Dad and Frank took offVerdun is close to the German border. It had recently been liberated by the Allies, but was still being attacked by the Nazis.
Frank and my Dad made it to Verdun, and found Jacqueline at her uncle’s house. My Dad gave her the letter and the 5,000-franc note. She started crying. Then she packed a small bag, said goodbye to her uncle, and my Dad put her in the back of the jeep and covered her with a blanket. There were still clusters of German soldiers roaming about. My Dad and Frank took off, Frank driving, machine gun mounted between them, Jacqueline in the back, bouncing around under the blanket as the jeep flew down the small country roads.They stopped at a town called Metz to gas up at an American motor pool. The MPs warned them about groups of German soldiers. As they were getting ready to take off, Jacqueline poked her head out. The MPs saw her. Before they could react, Frank floored the jeep and drove like mad to Lunéville . They got there at midnight. Frank dropped off my Dad and Jacqueline at her house and took the jeep back.Jacqueline ran inside and there were tears and laughter and hugs and shrieks of joy. My Dad stood in the doorway. The one-armed Frenchman kept pumping his one good arm in the air, crying and screaming, “Merci, Philippe! Merci, Philippe!”GRILLED SALMON MARSALA AND GRILLED VEGETABLES
I was at my Dad’s house when I concocted this recipe. It was Memorial Day weekend. He lives on top of a mountain, in the Catskills of New York. It’s incredibly beautiful. It’s also incredibly isolated - which can make you crazy after a while. Just look at me.When my Dad first got the place, he wanted it to be rustic. And that it was. It was just a square, cinderblock two-story structure that looked more like a garage than a cabin. The ground floor was well, it was the ground. It was dirt. The second floor was unpainted plywood, and there was a gas stove up there, and that’s where I slept.The stove is what we used for heat. For the whole place. Keep in mind; it gets down to below zero in the winter. There’s snow on the ground from November until March. And there was no plumbing. None. There was an outhouse, and it was pretty scary; especially late at night, when you had to walk 50 yards through the snow to go to the bathroom. That’s the way my Dad wanted it. Rough. No frills. No phones. No TV.That didn’t last very long. The thought may have been romantic, but there’s nothing romantic about getting up in the morning and walking across the frozen tundra to go to the bathroom in what is really just a hole in the ground. A stinking hole.And now? My Dad has three bathrooms, all indoors. The one on the second floor has a claw-foot bathtub with a view of the mountains. He has a big screen hi-definition TV, a satellite dish that gets a thousand channels, and the whole house has wireless internet. He has a phone. He even has a cell phone now. Now my Dad is all plugged in, hooked up, and well connected, which is a good thing, especially during the brutal winter months.
Rat Tail Ridge is a great place to grill in the summer, when it’s cool and breezy on top of that mountain. You’ve got a beautiful view, quite breathtaking. Batu loves it up there.Note: the salmon steaks I used were about an inch and a half thick. Keep in mind that thicker pieces of salmon take longer, and thinner pieces take less time. Also, some grills run real hot, some not-so-hot. No wonder it took me so long to get this recipe right. But I finally nailed it.Also, trim your asparagus. Grab an asparagus spear. Hold the top end in between the forefinger and thumb of your left hand, and hold the bottom end with the thumb and forefinger of your right hand, and bend until it breaks. Throw away the stalk end.There are two kinds of Marsala—sweet and dry. Sweet is the way to go. Sweet!Ingredients:For the sauce1 cup sweet Marsala (a wine from Sicily) or sweet vermouth¼ cup extra virgin olive oil¼ cup fresh squeezed lemon juice (use ripe, soft lemons, or Meyer lemons—remove the seeds)1 tablespoon chopped fresh oregano, plus a couple sprigs for garnish (you can use a teaspoon of dried oregano if you can’t find fresh)2 cloves of garlicFor the salmon and vegetables4 salmon steaksA dozen small potatoes cut in half (I used purple potatoes–found them in a local market)A bunch of asparagus (16 or so), trimmed6 Roma tomatoes cut in half length-wiseExtra virgin olive oilKosher saltFresh ground black pepperA small bunch of fresh chivesA handful of fresh basil leaves1 tablespoon of balsamic vinegarHere we go…Add all the sauce ingredients (except the garlic) in a small bowl. Mix. Put the garlic in a garlic press, and squeeze it into the sauce—you can also mince the garlic if you don’t have a press. Put the sauce in a small pan over low heat, and let it reduce while you grill.Rinse off the salmon steaks, pat dry with paper towels, and drizzle both sides with olive oil. Then give a shake of salt and pepper on each side.Keep your vegetables on separate plates. Take the potatoes, drizzle with olive oil, add salt and pepper, and make sure they’re coated well. Do the same with the asparagus, and the tomatoes – but be gentle. Don’t mangle your ‘maters.Heat your grill up! We want it to be medium heat; if it’s too hot, things will burn.The potatoes take the longest, about 20 minutes. Put them on first, cook for 10 minutes (depending on the heat of the grill) and then turn ’em over.Put the asparagus and the salmon on the grill, and cook for about 5 minutes. After 5 minutes, turn over the asparagus and the salmon.Add the Roma tomatoes to the grill, flat side down.Cook the asparagus, salmon and tomatoes for 5 minutes. Don’t turn over the tomatoes!Remove everything to a gorgeous platter.Use a scissors and snip some fresh chives on top of the potatoes.Snip some fresh basil on the tomatoes.Drizzle a little balsamic vinegar on the asparagus.Dish it up! Put a salmon steak on a plate. Take the reduced Marsala sauce and drizzle some on top. Add some asparagus, potatoes, and tomatoes. Garnish with a fresh oregano sprig.MANGIAMO!!!!!