A lot of people ask me to sing at their weddings. My answer is usually,“Yes. Yes I can.”I love singing at weddings. It’s such a happy time. When I’m singing at a wedding where I hardly know anyone - that’s a lot of fun; watching strangers go nuts at a wedding is a blast. Watching people you know and love go nuts at a wedding is enough to make you want to grab a dart gun and shoot somebody in the neck.A couple years ago, a young gal from Baltimore asked me to sing “End of the Rainbow” at her wedding. She had no budget.I told her, “I can do it.” But if Taylor Swift asks me to open up for her that day; or if David Letterman calls me at the last minute to do the Late Show, I won’t be able to. If you can live with that, “Yes. Yes I can.”The week before her wedding, as hard as it is to believe, Taylor Swift did not call. David Letterman did not appear on my doorstep. I told her yes. She was so ecstatic. Ever since she saw me sit down at the piano and sing “End of the Rainbow” at a concert in Annapolis at the Rams Head Tavern, it had been her wish for me to sing that song at her wedding. I was flattered. Really.When she asked me to sing, I was thinking - I could walk in, sing “End of the Rainbow” and then get back to packing.Packing? Yes. I was moving. The day after her wedding, I was leaving Baltimore to move to Nashville. A permanent move. A big move. The wedding was on a Saturday. I was leaving Sunday. I didn’t mention My Big Move to the bride to be. I figured she had enough on her mind.A couple days before the wedding, we were talking on the phone about details when she said,“You need to be on the boat by 11:00 AM.”Boat? Pardon me…did you say “boat?” Yes. The wedding was a cruise around Baltimore - for five hours. We would be out to sea the whole time, and there was no getting off the boat. The thoughts that were running through my mind - maybe I could have someone pick me up on a Jet Ski after my song. Maybe I could leap on to a passing barge. Or borrow an inflatable boat and bring it on board with me.I’m not a big boat guy. I don’t wake up in the middle of the night and say, “Damn! I wish I were on a boat right now.”My Dad had a small fishing boat, a 17-footer with an egg-beater on the back. That was fun. But a big boat out on the open sea makes me a bit woozy.But una promessa é un debito--“A promise is a debt.” That’s what my uncle used to say. I told the Bride of Baltimore that I’d be on the Love Boat bright and early.
That Saturday, I jumped in the Slim Vehicle, and drove to the Inner Harbor of Baltimore. I parked my car, and walked a few blocks down to the water. I had on my beige Hugo Boss suit and my brown suede Donald J. Pliner loafers. Gotta dress big for a big wedding! I saw some folks boarding a small cruise ship — it held maybe 200 people. I got on the boat at 11:00 AM.The Love Boat was all decked out in flowers and ribbons. It was a beautiful spring day. The sun was out, it was warm – but not too – and there was a slight breeze as the boat slowly headed out into the Chesapeake Bay. They had the ceremony on the top deck. They exchanged their vows and everybody walked downstairs to the middle deck. And there I was, sitting at the piano. I sang “End of the Rainbow” for the bride and groom and their guests.After I finished, people were crying.They were crying, “Don’t give up your day job, Donkey Face!”After I sang, I guess people needed alcohol. My music usually drives people to drink. Folks were lining up at the bar. After cocktails, it was dinnertime. I sat next to Annabelle. I’ve known her for years. Annabelle is a joy. She is one happy woman.Annabelle is married to one of my bestest amigos. They've been separated for ten years, but never got divorced. They get along better now than they ever did. They’re the best of friends.Annabelle and I used to work together at a dive bar in Fells Point called the Horse You Came In On. People in Baltimore go to Fells Point to drink. She tended bar, I sang the blues. My band was called the Scrappy Harris Blues Band.Scrappy Harris was the barback at The Horse. He looked like a skinny little homeless kid. He smoked Marlboro Reds, drank Budweiser and was loud and boisterous. Scrappy had a small apartment nearby that looked like a flophouse. Bare mattress on the floor. Old sheets nailed over the windows. But Scrappy wasn’t poor. It turns out he was a trust fund kid. Had a ton of dough. He just liked being a barback, getting ice, stocking booze at The Horse You Came In On.We named the band after Scrappy. I wrote a song about him. I also wrote a song about Annabelle.“Annabelle…my sweet Annabelle, I’m going down to the wishing well…wish for a girl like Annabelle.”Annabelle and I had a blast at the wedding. After dinner, a band played. The guitar player was amazing, in a Stevie Ray Vaughan kinda way. I got up and sang “Pride and Joy.” The band was good. Really good.At the end of the shindig, Rob Fahey got up and sang “Raised on the Radio.” Rob was in a great Baltimore band called The Ravyns. “Raised on the Radio” was a big hit for them. It was used in the movie Fast Times at Ridgemont High with Sean Penn.Rob sang his heart out. What a way to end the wedding.The Love Boat pulled up to the Inner Harbor. It docked right by the food pavilions. The Baltimore skyline was shining in the setting sun. I said goodbye to Annabelle. I walked up to the bride and groom. They handed me an envelope. Inside was a gift certificate for way too much money for my favorite Italian restaurant in Baltimore.La Scala.I had told them I would sing for free. I’m a great guy, ain’t I? The gift certificate was unexpected, but much appreciated. And very thoughtful.I said my goodbyes, and started walking from the Inner Harbor to the parking lot. On the way, a pickup truck drove by, splashed through a puddle, and splattered mud all over my pants and shoes. It looked like, well, like you can imagine. Dark brown mud. Beige suit. I was getting strange looks as I walked back to my car.I went home, changed, and walked Batu. Then I went to sleep. The next day, Slim Drummer John E Coale came over in his SUV. We packed up everything into our two cars, and drove 700 miles to Nashville.
Batu was in the back of the car, his dog bed piled on top of all the boxes, his head poking between the front seats.Goodbye, Baltimore. Hello, NashvilleBut wait! There’s more!I got an email the other day,“Can you sing “End of the Rainbow” as we walk down the aisle for our wedding? That song has been our song ever since we met.”He told me he was getting married Labor Day in Palm Springs. I’ve been staying in Palm Springs for the past few months. I wrote back and told him the same thing I told the Bride of Baltimore — if Taylor Swift calls at the last minute, I’ll have to bow out. He took it as a “yes.”He was so excited. He wrote me back and told me he was going to keep it a secret – he wanted it to be a surprise for his partner, Jack.SPINACH WITH TOASTED ALMONDS AND RAISINS
If you need some fortification before a Big Day, like a wedding day, why not make some spinach? It worked for Popeye!A few things about this dish…I used multi-colored organic grape tomatoes. Why?I saw them in the grocery store. They looked real cool and colorful. And they were inexpensive.You can buy almonds already toasted. But I like to toast my own nuts. I use raw slivered almonds, and toast them in a dry pan over medium-high heat. Do not leave your nuts unattended. Nothing worse than burnt nuts.I only cook the tomatoes for a couple minutes, you don’t want them to lose their shape or their skin.And only cook the spinach for a couple minutes, just enough to wilt it.Add the toasted almonds and raisins last. Because you don’t want your nuts getting soggy, and you don’t want the raisins to absorb all the sauce.I used brown raisins. Golden raisins would also work well.Serves 2INGREDIENTS8 ounces of baby spinach (I use organic)2 tablespoons raw almonds, chopped or slivered2 tablespoons olive oil2 tablespoons chopped shallotsCrushed red pepper (I start off with about ¼ teaspoon)1/3 cup white wine1 cup grape tomatoes, cut in half, seeds squeezed out1 tablespoon raisins (brown or golden)Salt to tasteHERE WE GO…Rinse off the spinach and spin dry--unless it’s the kind that’s already been triple-washed. Make sure it’s clean, SlimNation.And now, let’s toast our nuts."Here's to you, you nuts!"Get a small sauté pan.Put the heat on medium-high.Grab your nuts, put them in the dry pan.Shake your nuts around until they’re golden brown.Put your toasted almonds on a plate. Let ‘em cool.Put the 2 tablespoons of olive oil in a large sauté pan over medium heat.Add the 2 tablespoons shallots.Add the crushed red pepper.Cook for 2 minutes or so, stir every now and then.When the shallots are almost clear, add the white wine, turn the heat to high, and let it cook off for 1 minute or so.Turn the heat to medium-low, add the tomatoes, and cook for 2 minutes, stirring every now and then.Add the spinach, cook and stir for 2 minutes--or until it wilts.Add salt to taste.Add the toasted almonds.Add the raisins.Give it a stir.Dish it up! This would make a great side dish for any of the Slim Fish Dishes.
MANGIAMO!!!!!!!!
Slim Man's Cod Pieces
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 Ahi Tuna with Red Wine Sauce
Ahi Tuna With Red Wine Sauce and the Baltimore Colts
Why don’t cannibals eat divorced people?They’re bitter.September 11, 1983. The Baltimore Colts football team was scheduled to play the Denver Broncos. The year before, 1982, the Colts had not won a game, and because they stunk so bad they got the first pick in the NFL draft the following year.The Colts chose quarterback John Elway, from Stanford University. Elway refused to play for the Colts. He was even considering joining the New York Yankees baseball team rather than play football for the Colts. So the Colts traded Elway to the Denver Broncos and in the second game of the 1983 season, the Broncos came to Baltimore to play the Colts at Memorial Stadium.I had been a Baltimore Colts fan from day one. My uncle Oscar had season tickets from their very first game – the seats were in the mezzanine, right next to the press box. Oscar played football in high school-he was good enough to be offered a full scholarship to college, but chose medicine instead. When the Colts came to Baltimore, Oscar bought the best seats. I went with him to as many games as I could. I knew all the players, their numbers, their statistics, their nicknames.Lenny Moore, #24. Gino Marchetti, #89. Artie Donovan, #70. Johnny Unitas, #19. Raymond Berry #82.
I loved football. When I was a kid, I played football in little league. I wasn’t offered any scholarships, but I loved playing. And I loved the Colts.You can imagine how thrilled I was when the Colts called and asked my band to sing the national anthem for Elway’s first appearance in Baltimore. The band was BootCamp; we’d been making a name for ourselves in the music biz. We had worked up a great acapella version of the “Star-Spangled Banner.” It was a show stoppa. At parties, shows, concerts, weddings, funerals - all of a sudden, out of the blue we’d burst into the national anthem It was a cheap way to get a standing ovation. But our four-part harmony rendition was quite stirring, if I may say so myself.When we got to Memorial Stadium that Sunday, we were escorted through the Colts locker room, and into an underground tunnel that led to the field. As we were coming to the end of the tunnel, we heard this rumbling…The players, all suited up and breathing fire, were coming down the tunnel right behind us. We stood up against the wall and let them pass. They were big, and they had a look in their eyes that was fierce. Like Gladiators getting ready to enter the Coliseum.When they passed, we followed them out onto the field. We walked up to the microphone. The announcer asked everyone to stand and remove their hats. Memorial Stadium got dead-quiet. Then he introduced us, “Ladies and Gentlemen, Baltimore’s own BootCamp!”We sang our hearts out. It was the thrill of a lifetime. Fifty-thousand people standing on their feet, cheering. A standing ovation! Of course, they had to stand because it was the national anthem; but I’m marking it down in my bio as "a standing ovation before a sellout crowd of 50,000."
When we finished, we walked to the sidelines, and stood among the Colt players. The Colts’ front office had given us field passes. I’m sure when they gave them to us they weren’t thinking we’d stay on the field for the whole game, but there we were, standing on the sidelines with the players and coaches.All the players and coaches were giving us funny looks. I can’t blame them. We were dressed like …well, it was the 1980s. We looked like a cross between Duran Duran and Devo. We had on as much eyeshadow over our eyes as the Colts had under theirs.On the opening kick-off, I couldn’t see what was going on, but I could hear it. The two teams charging down the field sounded like a stampede of wild horses. When they hit each other, you could hear the crack of the helmets, the grunts and groans of the players.When the special teams unit came over to the sidelines after the kick-off, it was something I’d never witnessed before. The players were out of breath, wheezing and panting - fingers were broken, uniforms were muddy, noses were bloody.Playing football is a brutal sport. Playing music is not. Musicians don’t encounter a lot of violence. Unless, they’re really, really bad.The Baltimore fans were booing Elway mercilessly that day. People from B-Mo were pissed off. They weren’t afraid to be vocal about it. John Elway had said he’d play anywhere but Baltimore, and we Baltimorons took it personally.It would have been nice if the Colts had won. But the Colts were pretty bad that day. They lost, 17-10. The newspaper ran a photo on the front page the next day.Hit Man Howie Z was in it, back to the camera, walking off the field. 1983. It would be the Colts last season in Baltimore.On March 29, 1984, at 2:00 AM, 15 Mayflower moving trucks arrived at the Baltimore Colts training complex. Eight hours later, they were loaded up and heading to Indianapolis.They took everything - the Colts’ name, the trophies, the memorabilia, the mascot, the uniforms. All gone to Indianapolis.The mayor of Indy had offered the owner of the Colts a 12 million dollar loan, a 4 million dollar training complex, and a new 77 million dollar stadium.Let me make an analogy. Your wife (spouse) meets someone new, a wife that you stood by through the good times and the bad. This New Guy offers her a 12 million dollar loan, a 4 million dollar work-out room, and a 77 million dollar house.And she takes it. That’s OK, things didn’t work out, I can handle that. But did she really need to take all your stuff, too? Your trophies, your memorabilia, your mounted deer head? No. With all that money, she could have bought new stuff.Did she have to take it all in the dark of night, at two in the morning, while you were sleeping? That’s harsh. But that’s what the Colts did.When I heard the news about the Colts leaving town, I was pissed off; so much so, that I didn’t go to a football game, or follow the NFL for years.I was bitter. Lots of folks in Baltimore were.When the Baltimore Ravens came to town, Oscar got season tickets, great seats in the club section. I resisted at first. Then I gave in. I went to my first Ravens game. The guy sang the national anthem and it sent chills up and down my spine. The crowd cheered, jets roared as they flew right over our heads, and Ray Lewis came out of the tunnel and did his dance while fireworks shot into the sky. The stadium went wild. It was thrilling.I was hooked. I was back in love! The Ravens went on to win the Super Bowl that year—2000.It took me a while, but I had found a better wife. She’s been great. She won the Super Bowl again last year. What more could a husband ask for?I’m not bitter anymore. I’m better, not bitter.
AHI TUNA STEAKS WITH RED WINE SAUCEWhat do you do with all that red wine left over from the Super Bowl Party? Make red wine sauce!You can use this sauce on steak, chicken or ahi tuna steaks. You can grill them, or sear them. I seared.I went to the grocery store not long ago and they had beautiful ahi tuna steaks for $8 a pound. I bought two, and was wondering how to cook them.I had done tuna with a red wine sauce before, but it wasn’t where I wanted it to be. The sauce wasn’t right. It was bugging me. It was keeping me up at night. Then, around dawn, it dawned on me. Tomato paste!The next time I made the sauce, I added a little tomato paste to the sauce to thicken it up and give it a little zip. Then I added a little dried oregano to give it some zing. Zip! Zing! It turned out great.A few things before we get started - the tuna steaks I used were about an inch and a half thick. I cooked them for 2 minutes per side over medium-high heat. They turned out perfectly — the pepper/salt/sugar that I had sprinkled on top gave them a nice sear, and they were a beautifully pink on the inside.Cooking times vary. A thicker piece of fish takes longer.Also, when you light your Cognac on fire, be careful, boys and girls. Yes, the subsequent explosion of flame looks so cool and very dramatic, but have the fire department on the phone in one hand, and a garden hose in the other.If you’re using this sauce on a steak or chicken, just cook or grill the steak as you normally do, and add a little sauce on top.This is a bold sauce. Don’t use too much!INGREDIENTS2 ahi tuna steaks, about a half pound (8 ounces) each2 tablespoons butter2 tablespoons olive oil2 tablespoons chopped shallots1 tablespoon chopped garlic2 ounces of Cognac (about ¼ cup)½ cup dry red wine½ cup stock (I used beef)½ teaspoon dried oregano1 tablespoon tomato pasteFresh ground black pepperKosher saltBrown sugar or raw/turbinado sugar (you can use plain sugar in a pinch)Here we go…Rinse off your tuna steaks and pat dry with paper towels.Let’s make the sauce.In a small pan over medium heat, add 1 tablespoon of butter, and 1 tablespoon of olive oil.When the butter melts, add the shallots and the garlic.Cook about 2 minutes until the shallots are clear and the garlic is golden. Stir a few times.Add the 2 ounces of Cognac.
Stand back, Jack! Get a lighter, one with a long handle. Light the Cognac on fire. Be careful! The flames will shoot up!When the Cognac burns off, and the fire department has left…Add the red wine and the beef stock.Let it cook for 3 minutes while stirring.Add the oregano, stir.Add the tomato paste, stir for a minute or so.Remove from heat.The sauce is done, now let’s cook our tuna.Rinse the ahi tuna steaks and pat ‘em dry with paper towels.Add a little freshly cracked black pepper, a little kosher salt and a sprinkle of turbinado or brown sugar on top of each steak.Get a sauté pan; put it over medium-high heat.Add 1 tablespoon of butter and 1 tablespoon of olive oil to the pan.When the butter starts to brown, add the tuna, peppered/salted/sugared side down.Add a LITTLE SPRINKLE of fresh cracked black pepper, kosher salt, and turbinado sugar to the other side.Cook for 2 minutes, turn over with tongs. Swirl the butter and olive oil around in the bottom of the pan, so you’re not placing the ahi tuna in a dry pan.Cook for 2 minutes on the other side.Give it a slice, see if it’s done to your liking. If it is, dish it up. Keep in mind, the fish will keep cooking, even though you've taken it out of the pan. Err on the side of rare.Put some greens on a plate with a few grape tomatoes, place the tuna on top, drizzle just a little red wine sauce over each piece, and…
MANGIAMO!!!!
Slim Man Cooks Chicken with Marsala and Porcini Mushrooms
Chicken Marsala with Elvis in Memphis
I was in Memphis in the late 1980s organizing a country music talent contest with my friend Michael.Michael is black. I’m white. Well, Italian.Marlboro sponsored the contest. Why they picked a black guy and a white guy — two city slickers, no less — to do a country music talent contest, is still puzzling.It’s not puzzling why Michael and I did the contest - they paid us a lot of money and they paid all our expenses. I ended up doing four tours for Marlboro. The one with Michael was my first.Michael and I traveled around the USA looking for the next big country music star. We went to more honkytonk hellholes than most cowboys. We’d roll into a town like Memphis, find a club, organize the bands, and do the contest. The grand prize was $50,000. Fifty grand.I was in charge of the bands; I made sure all the musicians knew where to go, what to bring, and what to do. Michael was the MC. He was the Ryan Seacrest of honkytonks. When Michael appeared on stage, and introduced himself to the primarily white, all-country crowd, there was a little apprehension - on both sides of the microphone.He’d come out and say,“Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to the Marlboro Country Music Talent Roundup.”That’s when the crowd got a little quiet. Michael was from New York City, and he sounded like it. He’d continue,“I know I don’t look like the Marlboro Man, and I don’t sound like the Marlboro Man, but tonight…”He’d reach down and put on his white ten-gallon Hoss Cartwright cowboy hat on, and continue,“I am the Marlboro Man.”Michael sounded like Shannon Sharpe — the football player and NFL analyst. He looked like Cleavon Little in Blazing Saddles. Michael always got a laugh when he put the big white hat on. He had a singular charm.Marlboro tossed a lot of money at this thing. We had all kinds of great merchandise — denim jackets, satin jackets, duffle bags, playing cards, T-shirts, polo shirts, denim shirts, posters. And they gave away free cigarettes at every show. All you could smoke.They should have given away a Marlboro coffin. Or maybe a Marlboro iron lung.Here’s how we ran the contest - we had ten bands a night, three nights in a row. Each band got 15 minutes on stage. We had three minutes in between bands, that’s all.Judges picked the winners--not the audience. We’d find judges —usually three — from the local talent pool; DJs, producers, managers, agents. The judges would pick one band to go on to the finals in Nashville, where they would compete with the other finalists from other towns for the grand prize of $50,000.Before we got to Memphis, we got a call from Marlboro headquarters. They told us to be careful. It was the 20th anniversary of Martin Luther King’s assassination in Memphis. And then they told us that the club owner was rumored to have ties to the KKK.The club was called The Vapors, a country music honky-tonk in the middle of Memphis. Michael and I pulled up to the club in our rental car. We walked inside and met the owner. He was friendly. He was as nice and helpful as could be. He wasn’t wearing a white pillowcase over his head.
Michael and I got set up for the show that night. We had to hang all the Marlboro Country Music Roundup signs around the club, we had to make sure the sound company was good to go, the bands ready to play, and the judges prepared to judge.We finished soundcheck and had a few hours before showtime. Michael had a friend who had a limo and tour bus company based in Memphis. She rented these things out to bands and rock stars. She invited us for a limo ride to Graceland and a private tour. She was a friend of Elvis Presley’s Mom.Graceland is the house that Elvis built. It’s now a museum.Michael and I drove over to his friend’s house. She had all these limos and tour buses parked all around her property. She got behind the wheel of one of the limos and Michael and I got in back. She put the big black limo in reverse and floored it.She rammed it into the side of one of her tour buses that was parked right behind her. BANG! We got out, and surveyed the damage. It was substantial — to both the limo and the tour bus.She left the smashed-up limo right there, and got into another one and drove us over to Graceland. She gave us a private tour. We saw the Graceland that not many people get to see. It was surprisingly small, and had a sixties vibe to it—lots of yellow vinyl and white shag carpets and mirrored walls.Elvis must have loved TV. There were TVs everywhere. He had quite a collection of cars, all kinds of exotic sports cars. Elvis also had two luxury jets parked right across the street from Graceland.
After the Graceland tour, Michael and I went to visit the Lorraine Motel, where Martin Luther King, Jr. was assassinated. There were TV news crews doing interviews about the 20th anniversary, and one of them came up to Michael and interviewed him.It was eerie.Michael and I went back to our hotel, a Holiday Inn. We decided to take a jog before the big show that night. We put on our running shoes and started jogging down the streets of Memphis, side-by-side.On our way back, we heard someone shout from a car – you’ll have to excuse the language, but this is the way it went down.“Hey nigguh boy! Hey hippie fag!”True story. That’s exactly what was said. I couldn’t believe my ears. Then I heard it again.“Hey nigguh boy! Hey hippie fag!”Oh, shit, I thought. Here we go. A black guy and a long haired white guy, running down the streets of Memphis. I stopped and looked to see where the voice was coming from.It was the owner of the Vapors. He was laughing, hanging out the window of his car, smacking his hand on the door.“I got you! I got you goin’! See you fellas at the club later! Have a nice run!”
He smiled and waved and drove off, laughing.He got us, all right.We did the contest that night at The Vapors. The owner couldn’t have been nicer, the crowd was as cool as could be and the show went as smooth as glass.I love Memphis - Sun Studio, Graceland, Beale Street - and any city with a restaurant named Automatic Slim’s is OK in my book.CHICKEN WITH MARSALA AND PORCINI MUSHROOMSAutomatic Slim’s did not have chicken Marsala on the menu. But they should have!I came up with this dish a few weeks ago. I used porcini mushrooms and the water they soak in. It was amazing, if I may say so myself.The next night I cooked it for a very beautiful woman of excellent taste, and it was just OK. I overcooked the chicken, and it was a bit tough and dry; so don’t overcook your chicken.I like to serve this sauce over egg noodles – not a lot, just a little bit underneath each serving.I used three boneless, skinless chicken breasts. They were real thick, so I cut each of them in half. I had six cutlets, each was about ¼ inch thick.Marsala is a wine from Marsala, Sicily. There are basically two kinds; dry and sweet. I used sweet Marsala.Be careful when handling raw chicken—clean every surface it touches, wash your hands, and get out the pressure washer and put on the HazMat suit.
INGREDIENTS6 chicken breast cutlets, about ¼ inch thick½ ounce dried porcini mushrooms (soaked in 1 cup of water for a minimum of 20 minutes—don’t throw out the water!)2 tablespoons butter2 tablespoons olive oil½ shallot, chopped fine, about 2 tablespoons3 garlic cloves, sliced thin, about 1 tablespoon¾ cup sweet Marsala1 cup of water1 tablespoon fresh rosemary, chopped½ pound of egg noodles – pappardelle work wellKosher salt and pepper to tasteHere we go…Rinse off your chicken breasts and pat them dry with paper towels.Remove the porcini mushrooms from the cup of water with a slotted spoon.Take the remaining porcini water and strain through cheesecloth — I used a coffee filter, by the way. I’ve even used paper towels as strainers. Whatever you use, save the water – you’ll use a half cup for the sauce, and a half cup in the pasta water, if you want to put the sauce over pasta.Rinse off the mushrooms and pat dry. Chop into small pieces.Grab your breasts. Then grab your chicken breasts. Notice the difference. Salt and pepper the top of the chicken breasts. Fresh cracked black pepper is the way to go. Salt and pepper just one side of the chicken breasts.
Let’s make the sauce first.Put a small sauté pan over medium heat.Add one tablespoon of butter, and one tablespoon of olive oil.When the butter starts to bubble, add the shallots.Cook and stir for 2 minutes, until the shallots just start to brown.Add the garlic, cook for 2 minutes. Give it a stir.Add the Marsala.Add ½ cup of porcini water.Turn the heat to high and let it cook for 2 minutes.Turn the heat to medium-low, and add the porcini mushrooms.Cook for 2 minutes while stirring.Add the rosemary. Cook and stir for 2 minutes.Remove from heat. Sauce is done!Let’s do the chicken.
Get a large sauté pan (I used a 12 inch skillet). Put it over medium-high heat.Add 1 tablespoon of butter and 1 tablespoon of olive oil.When the butter starts to bubble, add the chicken breasts, salted/peppered side down.Cook for 2 or 3 minutes until golden.Flip ‘em over.Cook for 2 or 3 minutes on the other side until golden. Give a cutlet a slice, make sure it’s done.Pour the Marsala/porcini sauce over the breasts.Remove from heat!Plate ‘em up! You can put this sauce over egg noodles, or rice, or eat it as is.I like to put this sauce over egg noodles--pappardelle are my favorite. I use a half-pound. Get a large pot, fill it with cold water. Add the remaining ½ cup of porcini water to the pasta water. When it all comes to a boil, add 2 tablespoons of kosher salt.Add the egg noodles, cook until al dente, drain and drizzle with a tablespoon of olive oil. Stir.Put A SMALL PORTION of egg noodles on a plate. Put some Marsala sauce over the noodles, put a chicken breast on top, spoon some sauce and juice and mushrooms on top and…
MANGIAMO!!!!!!!!!
Swordfish with Shallots, Capers and White Wine
I grew up in Baltimore, Maryland, about three miles from Memorial Stadium. That’s where the Baltimore Orioles played baseball. It’s where the Baltimore Colts played football.My brother and I were crazy about the Orioles and Colts. Our uncle Oscar loved the Colts, took us to lots of games when we were kids. Fans at football games can get a bit rowdy. If you’re a 10 year-old, it’s good to have a sleeve to hang on to. Especially a sleeve connected to a guy like Oscar.But baseball? It’s a bit gentler, safer for a kid. In the summertime, my brother and I would go to Orioles games by ourselves. We’d get to the stadium anyway we could; walk, ride a bike, take the bus. We’d get there early, so we could catch batting practice. We’d stand out in the left-field bleachers with our gloves, two raggedy young kids, hoping to snag a batting practice home run. Or a foul ball. Or maybe a pitcher in the bullpen would throw us a ball. Anything.My brother and I collected Orioles baseball cards. We belonged to the Junior Orioles. When we played baseball in the backyard, we’d take the names of our favorite O’s players. My brother wanted to be called “Brooks” after Brooks Robinson (third base). I wanted to be Paul Blair, a black centerfielder. He was my favorite player. Paul Blair once threw me a baseball after I screamed “Hey, Paul, throw me a ball!” about 300 times during batting practice.Section 9 was our spot for baseball in Memorial Stadium—the outfield bleachers. There were rows of yellow aluminum benches with no backs and no padding; when the weather was hot, it was like sitting on a stove, when it was cold, it was like sitting on a block of ice. It didn’t matter to us. We loved the O's.
My brother and I played little league baseball for years. My brother was really good; he got all the trophies. I wasn’t any good, but I loved playing. I still like throwing a ball around. I really like batting cages. You stand in a fenced-in cage, and a pitching machine throws baseballs at you, and you try and hit them with your bat.My Dad lived in upstate New York. Cooperstown—where the Baseball Hall of Fame is—is not far away. My Dad was an extra in a Tom Hanks baseball movie—A League of Their Own—that was filmed on the baseball field in Cooperstown. I’ve been to Cooperstown a couple of times, it’s a great place to visit if you’re a baseball fan. They’ve got batting cages—I tried the pitching machine that threw knuckleballs, and I didn’t hit one good ball.The next time I stepped into a batting cage, I hit two good balls.My band BootCamp was playing in a rock club in Ocean City, Maryland, one summer and there was a batting cage in an amusement park right behind the club. The afternoon before our Big Show, the drummer, Hit Man Howie Z, and our friend Roger—who would later name his only son Brooks—went down to the batting cage. We three were the only ones there.All I had on was a thin, baggy, nylon bathing suit and a T-shirt. It was the beach, it was summer. I grabbed a bat, put my money in the machine and stepped into the cage. This was hardball; I was staring at an 80 mile per hour fastball machine. I stood next to home plate, bat poised, waiting for the first pitch. It catapulted out of the machine, and screamed towards me.I swung, and hit the ball with all my might. The ball shot straight down, hit home plate, and shot straight up like a rocket and hit me squarely in the you-know-whats.I hit the ground like a sack of cement. I curled up in the fetal position, racked in pain, breathless. Fastballs were screaming over my head, smacking into the backboard, and bouncing all around. Hit Man and Rog were trying to grab me in between pitches, trying to avoid getting hit by 80 mph fastballs. My legs wouldn’t uncurl. They eventually dragged me—still curled up tight in the fetal position—by my feet, out of harm’s way.The BootCamp show that night was not as lively as usual. I sang while standing in one spot, all night long. I couldn’t move. But I did hit some high notes I’d never hit before.In 1983, BootCamp sang the national anthem at Memorial Stadium for the Baltimore Colts football team. A couple months later, the Colts moved to Indianapolis. I hope our rendition of the Star Spangled Banner didn’t affect their decision. I thought we sounded great.In 1986, BootCamp sang the national anthem at Memorial Stadium for the Baltimore Orioles baseball team. Earl Weaver, their long-time manager, retired a couple weeks later. I was starting to think maybe I was a jinx.In 1992, the Orioles moved from Memorial Stadium to a new ballpark in the heart of downtown Baltimore—probably to get rid of the jinx. The new stadium was called Orioles Park at Camden Yards, and it was and is a beauty.In 1995, I released the first Slim Man CD, End of the Rainbow. I wanted to take a copy to my dentist, who was also a friend. Going to his office was like going to the Playboy Mansion; all the assistants looked like Playboy Bunnies and he was like Hugh Hefner—I think he even dressed in silk pajamas and ascots rather than scrubs and a mask.I drove to downtown Baltimore, parked in an underground lot, and got in a limited access elevator--it only went to the top two floors. Guess who got in right behind me? Cal Ripken, Jr., shortstop for the Baltimore Orioles. Rookie of the Year, 1982. Most Valuable Player, 1983—when the Orioles won the World Series. I’d seem him play hundreds of times, but had never met him. I introduced myself, told him I was a big fan. Cal Ripken, Jr. shook my hand. I gave him the End of the Rainbow CD that I was saving for my dentist. I told Cal it was my first CD; he gave it a look, and thanked me.About five years later, the Orioles asked me to sing the national anthem at Orioles Park. I guess they were desperate. I’m a patriot. I love the USA. And singing the anthem is an honor, plain and simple.I practiced “The Star-Spangled Banner” day and night for weeks. My neighbors probably thought I was either really crazy or really patriotic. Or both. I tried singing the anthem every way I could. I sang it slow. I sang it fast. I sang it half-fast, which is the way I normally sing.The day finally arrived. I got to Camden Yards that September evening, 2000, and a young woman from the Orioles office led me on to the field. The sky was cloudy, it looked like it might rain. Hit Man was with me, so was Roger. So was Griff, the guy who signed me to Motown—he’s a huge baseball fan. My Mom, in her wheelchair, was in the stands nearby. She was also a big Orioles fan, used to listen to the games on the radio in the kitchen at Rosebank.
The players were standing by. I walked up to the microphone at home plate, the crowd stood on their feet, hats off, hands on hearts. The announcer introduced me, and I started singing. I did the “Star Spangled Banner” Slim Man style—low and slow. The woman who had led me on the field kept waving her arms in a circle, motioning for me to speed it up. She looked like a third base coach waving a runner home.But, like Frank Sinatra, I did it my way.I thought it sounded good. Nobody booed and nobody left, which to me is a successful gig. The anthem is not an easy song to sing. At least I remembered all the words. When I finished, I walked by Cal Ripken Jr., who was warming up outside the dugout. I was hoping he’d come up to me, give me a high five and say, “Slim Man! That CD you gave me in the elevator is incredible."He didn’t. But he did smile and shake my hand and say, “Nice job" as I walked by.Then I started thinking…was he talking about my version of the anthem? Or the End of the Rainbow CD? He probably meant both. Right?Swordfish with Capers and Shallots
A couple things…before you buy or cook your fish, take a sniff. It should smell like the sea. Fresh. Your nose knows. When in doubt, throw it out.Swordfish sometimes has small, dark areas. I cut these out. They tend to taste really fishy. You can use any firm-fleshed white fish — halibut, sea bass, or grouper.Cooking times are always approximate. The thicker the fish, the longer it takes.Serves 3Ingredients3 pieces of swordfish, about a half pound each, about an inch thick, skin removed1 tablespoon extra-virgin olive oil1 tablespoon butterFlour (a ¼ cup should do)2 tablespoons minced shallots2 tablespoons capers, plus a tablespoon of their juice2 tablespoons chopped Italian flat leaf parsley¼ cup dry white wineSalt and pepper to tasteHere we go…Rinse off the fish, and pat dry with paper towels. Sometimes frozen fish retains water, so pat dry until the paper towel is not damp.Heat your oven to the lowest possible temperature, which is usually 170 degrees. The oven at Slim’s Shady Trailer Park has a “keep warm” setting that works nicely.Heat the olive oil and the butter over medium-high heat in a sauté pan, big enough for all 3 pieces of swordfish. Let the olive oil and butter heat until the butter starts to bubble, about 2 minutes.While it’s heating, put some flour on a plate. Add salt and pepper to the flour, mix it up.Press each piece of fish into the flour, lightly coating each side. Lightly!Put each piece of swordfish in the pan.Cook for 2 or 3 minutes, depending on the thickness (thicker pieces take longer). Grab your tongs. Turn the fish over. Swirl the olive oil and butter in the bottom of the pan before you put the fish back in. You don’t want to put it in a dry pan.Cook for 2 or 3 minutes.Remove the fish to a plate. Put it in the warm oven.Add the chopped shallots to the pan (the one you cooked the swordfish in), cook for 30 seconds or more until golden brown.
Add the capers and their juice, cook for 30 seconds or more. Then add the parsley and white wine, and cook for 2 minutes.Turn off the heat under the pan.Remove the fish from the oven. Put it in the pan for a quick minute, then, dish it up! Put each piece of swordfish on a plate.Pour a little sauce over top of each piece of swordfish.Add a circular slice of lemon (remove the seeds), and a sprig of fresh Italian parsley. My incredible Italian kale recipe goes well alongside this fish dish, or maybe my amazing spinach and almonds recipe. Or perhaps Uncle Slimmy’s rock ‘em, sock ‘em broccoli and peppers? Yes indeedy!
MANGIAMO!!!!!!