My niece got married in June.My sister had five kids, all by Cesarean. They’re all pretty normal, except every time they leave the house they go out the window.My sister would be laid up after each birth, so Uncle Slimmy would babysit the newborn until my sister's stomach recovered, a couple weeks. At one point, I had a newborn, a 2-year-old, a 4-year-old, a 6-year-old and an 8-year-old.It wasn’t easy, but it was such a wonderful experience. I loved it, and I loved them. Still do!The niece who just got married...her husband...I love the guy. He’s funny and smart and cool and comes from a great family. They met in high school in Pennsylvania.The wedding was in Philly, a town I hadn’t been to in a while. Man, it has changed. I stayed at a hotel right in the heart of downtown. I took a jog/walk up to the Philadelphia Museum of Art, the one where the statue of Rocky is.
Rocky. Remember that movie? Sylvester Stallone? When he was training for his big fight, he’d end his exercise routine with a jog up the museum steps as the theme song played. “Flying high now!”I jogged up those steps. And when I got to the top, I played my own theme song. “It’s All About Love!” Seemed suitable for the City of Brotherly Love, which is Philly’s nickname. I jogged back to the hotel, and right next door was one of the best urban markets I’ve ever been to.The Reading Terminal Market. They had everything. Bay scallops, sea scallops, all kinds of fresh fish, meats, produce, Philly cheesesteaks, pastries...they even had pig’s feet.
Which were pretty disgusting looking.My Mom was from down south, and they had big jars of pickled pig’s feet in this red liquid, sitting on counters at gas stations. Unrefigerated. You could stick your hand in the jar, grab a pickled pig’s foot, and start gnawing.I never ate any. I couldn’t get past the visual.The night before the wedding, they had a rehearsal dinner. There wasn’t any rehearsing, it was just a way for folks from the two families to get to know each other. It was held in an upstairs room at one of those hipster restaurants, the kind where the guys have beards and glasses with big black frames, and boots that look like the kind that soldiers wore in the Civil War.Except this was modern-day Philly.I’ll admit this, the food was good. They had a couple choices for entrees, chicken or salmon. I’ve been eating a lot of chicken lately. I’ve been eating so much chicken I’m starting to sprout wings between my shoulder blades. I’m afraid I might start spitting feathers out of my mouth.So I ordered the salmon.When they brought me the plate, the salmon looked beautiful. I took a bite, it was pretty damn good. It was resting on...what was it? It looked like some kind of couscous. I took a bite, and it was delizioso. She was a-so nice!I could tell it wasn’t couscous. I asked the waiter what it was.Fregola.What?Fregola.Which had me looking it up on my phone. I was trying to stay off the damn phone, especially at a gathering where you’re supposed to get to know people. But I had to know what fregola was.
Well, Slim People…it’s a pasta from Sardinia. Sometimes it's spelled "fregola" and sometimes "fregula." It was about the size and shape of BBs, and that night in Philly it was done in a simple sauce, as a side dish.Sardinia is a place I’ve always wanted to visit; it’s an Italian island in the Mediterranean, off the East coast of Italy. I read an article in National Geographic a few years ago; the people of Sardinia live exceptionally long lives. The National Geographic folks were trying to figure out why.Maybe it’s the fregola!It’s usually served in a simple sauce, like a tomato sauce with some pecorino-Romano cheese. It’s usually a side dish, except when they make it with clams, tiny clams from the Mediterranean.When I got back to Palm Springs, I decided to find some fregola.I couldn’t. I went to all kinds of food stores, and when I asked for fregola, people looked at me like I had two heads.What to do?I went online. I found some on Amazon, and ordered it. It was expensive, about $8 bucks a pound. Normally pasta costs a couple bucks, but this was imported from Sardinia. Shipping was $6 bucks. I decided to splurge.
It’s a durum wheat semolina pasta, which is what most Italian pastas are made from. But fregola is toasted in an oven at the end of the pasta-making process. The pasta was many shades of brown. Each little pellet was a different color...beige, tan, burnt Sienna.What the hell is burnt Sienna anyway?So I followed the instructions on the package, cooked it in salted water for about 12 minutes. Then I drained it, and added a little olive oil and butter. I made one batch with some Slim pesto and another batch with Slim’s tomato sauce.It was so good. It had a slightly nutty flavor, and I thought I tasted a mild saffron-type spice. I like trying new foods, especially Italian foods. And this was one of the best new dishes I’ve cooked in quite a while. And it was so simple.How was the wedding the next day? It was great. Yes, it rained...torrential downpours and thunder and lightning. At least it was inside. Sometimes when the weather is really crazy, it somehow makes an event seem more memorable.“Remember the wedding? It was raining cats and dogs!”Now, I’m not sure where that expression came from. But it was raining really hard.Fregola. It sounds like an Italian curse word. "Slim Man! Che fregola!"This is gonna be quick, Slim People. And easy! And delizioso.INGREDIENTSA couple tablespoons of Kosher salt1 pound fregolaA couple tablespoons of olive oilA couple tablespoons of butter, room temperature1 cup simple tomato sauce½ cup of pesto sauceFreshly grated pecorino-Romano cheeseFreshly grated Parmigiano-Reggiano cheeseHERE WE GO!Get a large pot, fill it with fresh, cold water, and put it on the highest heat you gots.When it comes to a boil, add the Kosher salt (I use 2 generous tablespoons).Add the fregola pasta.Keep the heat up during the whole process!Stir and cook for about 12 minutes or so, until al dente—firm to the bite.Drain the fregola.Put half in one bowl, and half in another bowl.Add a tablespoon of olive oil and a tablespoon of butter to each bowl.Mix gently, make sure the butter has melted.Add the pesto sauce to one bowl, and the tomato sauce to the other.Mix gently.Dish it up!Put a serving of each on a plate. Add a little grated pecorino cheese to the tomato sauce fregola, and some Parmigiano to the pesto sauce fregola. 
MANGIAMO!!!
Slim Man Cooks Another Tomato Sauce
When I first started making tomato sauce, I minced the garlic. Then, one night, a Lady People friend of mine didn’t want minced garlic, she wanted sliced garlic, so that’s what I started doing.Then, I was making a tomato sauce for some meatballs for a restaurant in Palm Springs, Californy, where I was singing, and I thought it might be mo’ better if I used whole smashed cloves, so people could remove them more easily if they wanted.Because, if some octagenarian was eating a meatball, and got a whole clove of garlic stuck in their choppers and had a heart attack, that might not be good for business.So now I use whole, smashed garlic cloves when I make a tomato sauce. And you know what? It tastes better, and the fussy people can pick them out if they want.This tomato sauce is your go-to sauce and I’ll tell you why. You need a simple sauce when you’re making manicotti, eggplant parmigiana, or pizza, things like that. You load up your tomato sauce with a ton of stuff like carrots or celery or onion or oregano and all of a sudden you got too many flavors going on when you add it to something else.And sometimes a simple tomato sauce is great over pasta. My favorite pre-show dish is this sauce with penne rigate.So if you come up and say hi after a Slim Show, and I’ve got the old garlic breath kicking, you’ll know why.NOTES:I’ve been using Cento Italian tomatoes, they come in a 35-ounce can. I like them because they taste great, and the cans are lined, and I’ve been hearing some weird stuff about aluminum cans these days.Most Italian tomatoes come in 28-ounce cans. So, if you’re using 28-ounce cans, use two. I don’t think you’ll need to increase anything, there’s enough garlic here to keep vampires away for years. But if you want to add a little more garlic--or salt or basil--go ahead, Slim People!INGREDIENTSItalian tomatoes (one 35-ounce can, or two 28-ounce cans)8 cloves garlic3 tablespoons olive oilCrushed red pepper to taste (I use a ½ teaspoon)Salt (I use coarse Kosher, about a teaspoon)Fresh basil leaves (a bunch, a small handful)HERE WE GO!
Put your tomatoes in a large bowl. Smoosh them with your hands, dig in with your mitts and squeeze the tomatoes. Remove any funky-looking stuff…skin, stalks, and especially that yellow stringy stem in the center of each tomato. Smoosh until smoovy-smoov.Take a garlic clove, smash it with the broad side of a knife. Smash it good and flat! Remove the skin.Put the olive oil in a large sauté pan over medium-low heat, and add the crushed red pepper, let it heat up for a minute or two.Add the smashed garlic, let it cook for a couple minutes. DON’T LET THE GARLIC BURN! It tastes nasty when it does.When the underside turns pale gold, turn over each clove, and sauté on the other side for a couple of minutes until pale gold. PALE, Slim Folks!Then, turn the heat to high, and add the tomatoes.Add the salt.Take a half-dozen basil leaves, snip them with scissors, right into the sauce.Give it a stir.When the sauce begins to bubble and boil, turn the heat down to low, and let it simmer for 20 minutes, stirring every couple of minutes. Be gentle, SlimNation. Gentle and kind.After 20 minutes, take a few more basil leaves, and snip them right into the sauce with your scissors, give it a stir, and taste for salt and adjust.There ya go! Use this sauce over pasta, or use it with manicotti, eggplant parmigiano, pizza, bruschetta, and…
MANGIAMO!!!
Slim Man Cooks Roasted Vegetable Lasagna
On Christmas Day, 1999, I sang for Pope John Paul II at the Vatican.When you read that first line, you might get the impression that I was strumming my guitar at the Pope’s bedside, singing Christmas songs as he dozed off to sleep.That ain’t what happened.A friend of mine called from LA. She was putting a choir together to sing two pieces of music written for Pope John Paul II. She was familiar with my music, and thought I might like to be included as a vocalist. Yes, indeed!Both pieces were going to be performed at the Vatican on Christmas Day, 1999, the last Christmas of the 20th century. She asked me to be in the choir, to sing for the Pope.You can’t say “nope” to the Pope.I drove over to my uncle Oscar’s house, not far from my hometown of Baltimore, Maryland. I told him what was going on – I was flying to Rome for Christmas to sing for the Pope. He was so happy, you would have thought I’d just cured erectile dysfunction.Oscar insisted on paying for my hotel as a Christmas gift. He wanted me to stay at the Excelsior, a swanky, luxurious, elegant hotel in the heart of Rome. Fellini shot part of a movie there, La Dolce Vita.A few days before Christmas, I flew to Rome. I had never been before. When I checked into the hotel, I was dazzled. It was beautiful. Elegant. I didn’t get to see much of the hotel, though. Most of my days were spent at rehearsals. The two pieces of music we were doing for the Pope were called “Magnificat” and “cantata Giubileo.”“Magnificat,” was written by Beppe Cantarelli, an Italian guy who had written songs for Aretha and Mariah Carey. “Magnificat” is truly magnificent, one of my favorite pieces of choral music.“cantata Giubileo” was written by Maurice Jarre, a pretty famous and serious film composer. He won three Academy Awards for the music he wrote for Lawrence of Arabia, Doctor Zhivago, and A Passage to India.Giubileo is the Italian word for “Jubilee.” Every 25 years, the Roman Catholic Church celebrates Giubileo. Cantare is the Italian word for “sing.” In other words, “cantata Giubileo” was supposed to be a joyous piece of vocal music.It was a difficult piece of music – difficult to sing and difficult to like. There were so many key changes, time signature changes, and tempo changes. To top it off, the choir had to sing the word “peace” in 33 different languages.I like to joke a lot. But I ain’t kidding, Maurice wanted us to learn how to sing “peace” in 33 languages. There were about 50 people in the choir, men and women, mostly from LA; a mixed bag of gospel singers, pop singers, R&B singers, and one lonely jazz guy - me. We were called the Millennium Choir.We rehearsed in the Sala Nervi, the concert hall that had just been built next to St. Peter’s Basilica. Sala Nervi was amazing. The acoustics, the mile-high ceilings, the marble floors, the masses of stained glass – they didn’t get this stuff at Home Depot. Sala Nervi was really and truly stunning.The orchestra was down in front in the pit. The choir was on stage in a semi-circle, on raised stands. I stood next to a well-dressed black guy, who introduced himself as Darryl Phinnesse. His claim to fame was that he had written the lyrics to the theme song for the TV show Fraser.I always wondered about the lyric in that song “tossed salads and scrambled eggs.” I asked Darryl about it. He explained that “tossed salads and scrambled eggs” meant crazy people, people who were mixed up.I didn’t get it. I still don’t get it.Rehearsals for “Magnificat” were magnificent. The choir, the orchestra — everybody connected with that piece of music in a big way. It sounded glorious. To sing that incredible song, with a full choir and orchestra, in that amazing hall - I could have sung it a hundred times in a row.But “cantata Giubileo”? Both the choir and orchestra were having a tough time. Even when we got it right, it didn’t sound right – it sounded like an orchestra tuning up. Cacophonous.Maurice Jarre was not happy. He didn’t look like a real happy guy to begin with.One night, after rehearsal, I was at the hotel bar in the Excelsior, singing “Blue Christmas”, when a very stylish Italian guy came over and told me he liked my voice, told me I sounded like Elvis. I had been studying Italian for months. I knew enough to get around, especially when someone was talking about The King.He asked me my name. I was gonna say Slim Man, but I told him my real name. When he heard me say “Camponeschi” his eyes lit up. He told me about Ristorante Camponeschi in Rome. He told me I had to go there. He introduced himself. Federico.Federico called me in my room the next morning to tell me he had made a reservation. Which was very nice - a little bit strange, but nice. How did he find out which room I was in? I thanked him, hung up, and promptly forgot about it. I showered, dressed, and got in a taxi. I told the cab driver to take me to the Vatican. When he asked me why I was going there, I told him I was going to sing for the Pope. He laughed. I guess it did sound like a joke.Rehearsal that day was no joke. “cantata Giubeleo” was still not sounding right. Maurice worked us hard. Towards the end of the long day, Maurice stopped the choir to yell at us. He was a fiery Frenchman, and he wasn’t happy with the way his masterpiece was sounding.In the middle of his hollering, I noticed a guy walking across the marble floor. He was about 100 yards away, but you could hear his footsteps echo in the hall, getting louder as he got closer.The guy stopped next to Maurice Jarre. He was dressed in a suit and tie with overcoat. He looked like a hit man. Maurice stopped yelling.The guy said, to no one in particular, that he was looking for Signore Camponeschi. I looked around. There were no other Camponeschis. I raised my hand. He motioned for me to go with him. I had no idea what was going on. Maybe the Pope wanted me to make him some meatballs.The orchestra, the choir, Maurice - everyone stood and stared in silence as I stepped down from the choir stand, walked off the stage, and followed the guy out of the Sala Nervi, our footsteps fading in the grand hall. We walked outside and the guy opened the back door of a Mercedes limo. I got in.I knew he wasn’t gonna kill me — he wouldn’t have abducted me in front of 100 witnesses if he were. But I was a bit curious as to where I was going. When I’d ask, he’d say “Camponeschi.”Ten minutes later, we pulled up in front of the French Embassy. I was really confused, until I saw a sign across the street from the Embassy. Ristorante Camponeschi. We walked in.I couldn’t have had a better reception if I were the Pope. They had everything but a brass band playing the national anthem. Alessandro Camponeschi and his Dad, Marino, owned the place, and they greeted me with hugs, and treated me like a long lost son.My grandfather, Romollo Camponeschi, was born in Rome. It's quite possible that Alessandro and I might be related. But what a welcome, regardless.Ristorante Camponeschi is very elegant. Alessandro and Marino wouldn’t let me order from the menu. I must have had 100 courses. They brought soups, salads and appetizers, lobsters, champagne and desserts as well as flaming liqueurs.When your name is Slim Man, it’s not a good thing to stuff yourself like I did.After dinner, I gave a warm goodbye to Alessandro and Marino. The Mercedes limo was waiting for me outside. He gave me a quick ride back to the Excelsior. I thanked him, walked inside, and went to sleep.I found out the next day that Federico had made all the arrangements – the limo pick-up from the Vatican, the dinner, the limo ride home. All because he liked the way I sang “Blue Christmas.” Long Live The King!On Christmas morning, I got all dressed up in my tuxedo. It took me a while to get my bow tie tied – I didn’t want to use a clip-on for the Pope! I caught a cab to the Vatican, and got ready for the Big Show. We took the stage, the lights went dim and…The concert was amazing. The choir sounded great, so did the orchestra, and it all went really well — both pieces of music sounded exquisite. I was concentrating so hard on the sheet music, on getting everything right, that I really didn’t have time to look around, and soak it all in.I didn't even notice where Pope John Paul was sitting. He could have started a mosh pit and I wouldn’t have noticed.But after the concert, as I walked by, the Pope gave me a chest bump and a high five, and let me try on his hat.Just joking. Lord, forgive me!After the concert, I walked out of the Sala Nervi into the chilly Christmas night and it was breathtaking. The streets of Rome were jam-packed with people, the church bells were ringing, voices were singing, the Christmas lights were twinkling, all the streetlamps were decorated, and it was glorious.Absolutely glorious.Roasted Vegetable Lasagna
I wanted to make a lasagna that was…Slim, so to speak. So I skipped the ricotta cheese, and just roasted some vegetables.The first time I cooked this I used no-cook lasagna noodles in a 9x13 dish. The lasagna fit in the dish perfectly, but I didn’t like ‘em. I know a lot of people use them. To me, no-cook lasagna don’t taste right.I really prefer to boil the lasagna the old school way. In boiling water. What a concept. I boiled my lasagna noodles according to the instructions on the package, and they turned out so nice! It didn’t add any additional time, I cooked the lasagna noodles as the vegetables roasted.I used an 8x11 glass baking dish, because the traditional lasagna noodles fit perfectly in there. I used 9 sheets of lasagna--3 layers of 3.I was gonna cook a tomato sauce for this, but then, in a stroke of genius, I decided to do a no-cook tomato sauce. When I usually cook a tomato sauce, I cook it for 25 minutes.I figured, the tomato sauce was gonna bake in the oven with the lasagna for 25 minutes anyway, why cook the sauce beforehand. Capisce?It saved a lot of time and effort, but the best thing about this no-cook tomato sauce? It tasted so fresh. Funky fresh!You’ll need 3 generous cups of tomato sauce. You can use bottled sauce, but my no-cook tomato sauce takes no time!I found some organic mini-bell peppers on sale. They were beautiful--red, yellow and orange and added a nice color and flavor to this dish. If you can’t find mini-bell peppers, you can use a regular orange, yellow or red bell pepper, or a combination of all three. Whatever combination you use, you’ll need to end up with a cup and a half, chopped.I found some multi-colored heirloom grape tomatoes on sale. They, too, were colorful and delizioso. And not expensive. I cut them in half, squeezed the seeds out, and they worked perfectly.Cippolini onions are sweeter and milder than normal onions. They’re good for roasting, and you can find them in normal grocery stores. If you can’t find cippolini onions, use shallots instead.I always clean my vegetables. I clean everything. You gotta keep it clean, Slim People.INGREDIENTS
For the lasagna:3 cups (2 medium) zucchini cut in ¼ inch circular slices1 ½ cups small cippolini onions (6), peeled and quartered1 ½ cups red, yellow and orange bell peppers, cored, seeded, cut into 1-inch pieces5 tablespoons olive oil4 cups (8 ounces) sliced portobello mushroom caps, 1/8 inch thick, cut into 1-inch pieces3 cups (2 small) yellow squash cut in ¼ inch circular slices3 cups grape tomatoes, cut in half, insides/seeds squeezed out1 package lasagna noodles (at least 9 sheets)¼ cup basil, loosely packed, snipped with scissors or chopped gently—it bruises!1 pound (or more!) mozzarella cheese, you’ll need 1 ½ cups shredded, plus 12 circular ¼ inch slices½ cup fresh grated Parmigiano-Reggiano cheeseKosher salt and fresh cracked black pepperINGREDIENTSFor the no-cook tomato sauce:1 twenty-eight ounce can crushed Italian tomatoes (San Marzano are best, $3.99 a can)1 tablespoon minced garlic¼ cup basil leaves, loosely packed, snipped with scissors or chopped gently!½ teaspoon kosher salt¼ teaspoon crushed red pepperCombine all the ingredients, stir, set aside. Taste for salt and pepper and adjust. This should make about 3 or 4 cups. How easy was that?Here we go…Pre-heat your oven to 400 degrees.Put your zucchini, onion and peppers in a bowl, drizzle with a tablespoon or two of olive oil, add some kosher salt and fresh-cracked black pepper, and toss.Get a large metal baking pan, line it with aluminum foil. Add the zucchini and onions and peppers to the pan.Put your portobello mushrooms and yellow squash in the bowl. Add a tablespoon or two of olive oil, some kosher salt and fresh-cracked black pepper, and toss.Get another large metal baking pan, line it with aluminum foil. Add the portobello mushrooms and yellow squash to the pan.Put both pans in the oven, as close to the middle as possible, and roast for 25 minutes. As the vegetables roast…Take your 2 cups of halved grape tomatoes, put them in a bowl. Add a tablespoon of olive oil, some kosher salt and fresh-cracked black pepper and toss. Set aside.Now, for the lasagna noodles. Get a large pot, fill it full of cold water, put it on the highest heat ya got. When it comes to a full boil, add 2 tablespoons kosher salt and the lasagna noodles.Cook the lasagna noodles according to the directions on the package. I followed the instructions on a package of Barilla lasagna, I cooked them for 7 minutes.Keep an eye on these guys, make sure they don’t stick together. People should stick together, lasagna shouldn’t. Use tongs. Be gentle. Be kind. But you gotta keep ‘em separated.When the lasagna noodles have cooked according to the instructions, drain gently.I used an 8x11 glass baking dish. The lasagna noodles fit perfectly.Put a generous cup of uncooked tomato sauce in the bottom, spread around evenly.Add 3 pieces of lasagna, lay like shingles, overlapping—just a touch!Add the roasted zucchini, peppers and onions.Add a cup of tomato sauce.Add ¾ cup shredded mozzarella, spread evenly and judiciously.Add 3 more pieces of lasagna, layering like shingles.Add the roasted yellow squash and portobellos. Spread ‘em out even.Add a cup of tomato sauce, spread evenly.Add ¾ cup of shredded mozzarella, evenly—capisce?Add another layer of lasagna noodles, 3, lay ‘em down like shingles.Add the halved-tomatoes, distribute evenly. Any part of the lasagna noodles that are exposed, rub with a little olive oil from the bowl that held the tomatoes. This will help keep the noodles from drying out.Stick the baking dish in the oven on the middle rack for 25 minutes.After 25 minutes, remove from the oven.
Sprinkle the ¼ cup of basil leaves on top of the tomatoes. Add the slices of mozzarella, make sure you cover all the tomatoes.Top off with the grated Parmigiano-Reggiano cheese.Turn the oven to broil. Put the lasagna in the oven and KEEP AN EYE ON THESE GUYS. Don’t burn the cheese. You want it to get golden brown. It should only take a MINUTE OR TWO.Maybe three…When the mozzarella is golden and bubbly, remove. Let it sit for 10 minutes.Dish it up! Make it look nice. Sprinkle with some snipped basil leaves, maybe some grated Parmigiano-Reggiano cheese. She’s a-so nice!
MANGIAMO!!!
Slim Man Cooks Monkfish Fra Diavolo
My cousin told me I needed a colonoscopy.This wasn’t just a casual conversation at a bar, or a football game, or in front of the family at Sunday dinner.My cousin was also my doctor. Before that, his Dad--my uncle Oscar--was my doctor.I like to keep it in the family.Yes, it was a little embarrassing when it came time to…turn your head and cough and stuff. But it was rather comforting to know that you were in good hands, so to speak.My cousin the doctor was a thorough guy who wouldn’t give you an aspirin without a complete physical. So when he told me I needed a colonoscopy, I knew I needed to heed his advice.I went to the colonoscopy clinic in Baltimore, Maryland. It was a friendly place. The doctor seemed like he knew what he was doing, the nurses were nice, and I felt as comfortable as I could, under the circumstances.They asked me to take off my clothes, and put on one of those robes, the kind that are open in the back. Can’t they just give you a normal robe, the kind that belts up in the front? The other way is humiliating.So I put on the open-ass robe, and they asked me to lie down on the operating table. They covered me with a white blanket, and one of the nurses started talking to me.“How are you? Where are you from? Are you warm enough? Have you ever been convicted of a felony?” It was just pleasant small talk. We chatted for a little while, and then she said…“I think I recognize your voice!”I had a radio show in Baltimore for about eight years. I played jazz on Sunday mornings. It was the big Adult Contemporary station in town (Elton John, Olivia Newton John, Celine Dion) and the program director had asked me if I wanted to do a jazz show on Sunday mornings.I had never done radio. I told him so, and he said it didn’t matter. I gotta give it to the guy—Gary Balaban—he saw something I didn't, and he stayed with it for years.I got a lot of nasty phone calls in the beginning, folks bitchin’ about not hearing Michael Bolton and whatnot. But I just kept on doing my thing.The radio station gave me a free hand--they let me play whatever I wanted to play. So I did. I’d play Louis Armstrong, and then some Dave Grusin. I’d play Miles Davis and then segue into Marc Antoine. I'd play Herb Alpert and follow it up with some Ella Fitzgerald. I would also give local musicians I liked some airtime. I stuttered and stammered when I first started, and then I got into the flow.
I started interviewing artists, as well as playing music. Big-name, small-name, no-name, I just loved talking about music.The radio station never paid me. When I started, I wasn’t very good. So I never asked them about the money. It wasn’t until I’d been doing it for years that they started paying me…fifty bucks a show. For a four-hour gig.It wasn't about the money, obviously. I was starting to love it. I would have continued to do it for nothing.It's hard to believe, but we started getting really good ratings. Record companies started sending me CDs. Managers were calling, pushing their artists. Promoters were trying to get their records played.But all I wanted to do was play the music that I liked, talk to the artists I enjoyed, promote the musicians I thought worthy. And that's what I did, for 8 years. I was on the air every Sunday. When I went on tour, I’d pre-record the show. The Cool Jazz Café. Folks were tuning in. It was taking off.So, it wasn’t a huge surprise when the nurse told me she recognized my voice.“Are you Slim Man?”“Yes I am.”She yelled out…“You have the radio show on Sundays. I know you!”I looked at her and said…“You’re about to know me a whole lot better.”It was weird, yes. But what are you gonna do? Jump up off the table and run out of the place, bare-ass hanging out? They put the anesthesia mask over my face…Next thing I knew, I was in the recovery room. The nurse was smiling at me. She said…“Everything looks good.”It sounded a little strange, the way she said it. I looked at her and said…“I guess this makes us friends.”
Monkfish Fra DiavoloThe literal translation of fra diavolo is “from the devil.” The expression is used to mean a dish that’s spicy.This dish is usually made with lobster. I like lobster, but it’s a pain in the ass—like a colonoscopy.Lobster's expensive, hard to cook, and hard to clean up. It’s hard to crack the claws and the shells.I was in Paris once and they had lotte on the menu. I had no idea what it was. The waiter told me it was "the poor-man’s lobster." I felt like cracking him one. But I ordered it and loved it.Here in the good ol’ USA, they call lotte "monkfish." It’s one of the ugliest fishes you’ll ever see. But man, does it taste good. It has a taste and a texture similar to lobster, and it’s a whole lot cheaper, and a whole lot easier to deal with.Make sure to use monkfish filets. Remove all the gray and tan membranes, and cut it up into bite-size chunks.I love this dish!INGREDIENTS 4 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil2 tablespoons sliced garlic (about 3 or 4 cloves, skin removed)4 tablespoons minced shallots (1 small shallot, skin removed)Crushed red pepper to taste (it’s “fra diavolo”--from the devil--so make it spicy!)1 cup white wineOne 28 ounce can (3 and ½ cups) of San Marzano or Italian tomatoes, smooshed up, yellow cores removed1/2 cup of basil--a small handful½ teaspoon dried oregano1 pound monkfish filet, about 2 cups, membranes removed, chopped into cubes
Here we go...If you are going to put this over pasta, grab a large pot, fill it with the coldest water you gots, and put it on the highest heat you gots.As the water starts to heat up, let’s cook our monkfish sauce.Put the olive oil in the bottom of a Dutch oven, or a large pan.Turn the heat to medium. Let the olive oil heat up for 2 minutes.Add the fish. Add salt and pepper to taste.Cook the fish on one side for two minutes. Then turn over. Cook for two more minutes on the other side.Remove the fish from the pan, and put on a plate.Add the garlic and shallots and crushed red pepper (to taste) to the pan. Let them cook for about three minutes, stirring every minute or so.Then add the wine. Turn up the heat to medium-high, and let the wine cook off for three minutes or so. Stir frequently.Then add the tomatoes. Grab your basil, and a pair of scissors, and snip the basil leaves into small pieces, right into the sauce. Then add the oregano. Turn the heat to high. When the tomatoes come to a boil, reduce the heat to medium-low, and cook for fifteen minutes.
Then, add the fish to the sauce. Stir gently. Cook for ten minutes on medium-low. Don’t stir too often—we don’t want the fish pieces to break up.NOW FOR THE PASTA…When the water comes to a full boil, add about 3 tablespoons of Kosher salt.Then add a pound of linguine.Stir. Stir it often.When the pasta is al dente, firm to the bite, drain it, and put it in a large bowl.Drizzle the pasta with a tablespoon of olive oil, and toss.Pour 2 cups of the monkfish sauce over the pasta and mix gently.Dish it up! Put some pasta in a plate, add a spoonful or two of sauce on top, and garnish with a basil leaf or two. And…
MANGIAMO!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Slim Man Cooks Tomato Sauce
Tomato Sauce and Bonnie Raitt
In the mid-1970s, I was doing sound-alike records in a recording studio in Timonium, Maryland. The studio was Blue Seas. It was owned by Steve Boone, who was the bass player in the Lovin’ Spoonful. Steve is from New York. How he ended up in Baltimore, I don’t know.I heard there was a woman involved.I was in Studio B doing ‘sound-alike’ songs for K-Tel Records. This is how it worked - K-Tel would keep their eyes on the pop charts. As soon as a song looked like it was gonna be a hit, they rushed you into the studio to do a cover version, which they would release as soon as possible.The song title would be the same, but where the band name was supposed to appear they would put “Not the Original Artist.”At the time, I was doing a version of “Rock the Boat” by the Hues Corporation. I was trying to make my voice sound like that guy’s voice. When he hits that really high note at the very end of the song? I tried to mimic it and almost gave myself a hernia.So if you ever hear a version of “Rock the Boat” and the band is listed as “Not the Original Artist” - that’s me.Who was in Studio A, the big studio with the grand piano and all the fancy gear?Little Feat. One of my favorite bands. They were working on Feats Don’t Fail Me Now. I would peek in the door every now and then. There was a lot of partying going on, right there in the control room. Don’t get me wrong – some great music was being made. But the atmosphere in Studio A was completely different than Studio B. Studio A was definitely more festive. I think the phrase “sex and drugs and rock ‘n roll” might have been coined there.I was in Studio B during the day. At night, I used to play a place called Mother Lode’s Wild Cherry. It was a crazy rock and roll joint. It had a curving sliding board that started on the third-floor balcony, crossed the stage – which was on the second floor–and emptied out on to the dance floor.The drummer in Little Feat, Richie Hayward, used to come and sit in with us at Mother Lode’s. He was amazing. The club was open until 2 AM, and the next day I’d go do sound-alikes in Studio B, and Richie would play drums with Little Feat in Studio A.One day I got to the studio about an hour early. My Mom had just brought home the Rags to Rufus record the day before. Rags to Rufus was the first record by a band called Rufus, Chaka Khan was the singer. My Mom brought home lots of great music. There was a record store up the street from our house. My Mom didn’t drive, so she’d walk up to the store. They guy would tell her what was good; she’d buy the record and bring it home.My Mom brought home a wide variety of incredible music, way before anybody else discovered it. Aretha. Isaac Hayes. Judy Collins. The Beatles. The Band. Donovan. B.B. King. My Mom had Bonnie Raitt records before anybody knew who Bonnie Raitt was.So, I was sitting in Studio B and I put the Rags to Rufus record on the turntable and turned it up. The first song came on. That’s when Bonnie Raitt walked in. I knew who she was, and asked her what she was doing in Baltimore. She told me she was in Studio A, singing back-ups for Little Feat. She listened for a minute and then asked me who the singer was. I told her. Chaka Khan. That first song kicked us both in the head—“You Got the Love.” But the song that really knocked us out was a song called “Tell Me Something Good.” When that tune came on, we both were floored.Bonnie Raitt and I sat and listened to the whole Rags to Rufus album together. We didn’t talk much. We just listened. Bonnie Raitt. And Yours Truly. The Rufus album ended, we said goodbye, and she walked out of the studio. I never saw her again.About five years later, I met the guy who placed “Tell Me Something Good” with Rufus.Carl Griffin discovered that song. He was VP at Motown, and he was going through old Stevie Wonder songs, and he heard this really rough demo that Stevie did of “Tell Me Something Good.” Carl loved the song, saw its potential, and placed it with Rufus.The song won a Grammy.I met Carl five years later. It was a strange coincidence, how I met him; but Carl ended up signing me as a songwriter to Motown - five years after I sat with Bonnie Raitt listening to “Tell Me Something Good,” a song Carl discovered.One last crazy thing -Blue Seas eventually moved their studio from Timonium to a barge in the Inner Harbor of Baltimore. Bonnie Raitt recorded an album there. Verdine White from Earth, Wind and Fire recorded there. On Christmas Day, 1977, the barge sank. It was not insured. There were rumors of drug debts, mob vengeance, and loan sharks. But not insurance fraud.
BASIC TOMATO SAUCEIf I ever have to face a firing squad, and they ask me what I want for my last meal, I’d ask for pasta with tomato sauce. Can I get a glass of wine with that? A couple meatballs? Take your time!This is a simple sauce: tomatoes, basil and garlic. It’s quick, easy, healthy and delizioso. It’s also versatile—put it over pasta, and it takes on a starring role, like Marlon Brando in The Godfather. Use it in lasagna or eggplant Parmigiana, and it takes on a supporting role, like Robert Duvall in The Godfather. Use it on a pizza, and it takes on a smaller, but important role, like Diane Keaton in…The Godfather.This recipe uses two 28-ounce cans of whole, peeled, Italian tomatoes. San Marzano are best, but a little pricey. The yield is about 6 or 7 cups. In the video, I use a 6-pound can of tomatoes. I have since come to my senses.Ingredients
2 twenty-eight ounce cans of whole, peeled Italian tomatoes3 tablespoons olive oil (extra virgin, or at least one that hasn’t been sleeping around)6 cloves of garlic, sliced thin, about 3 tablespoonsCrushed red pepper to taste (I start off with 1/4 teaspoon)1 large handful fresh basil, about 1 cup, loosely packed
Kosher saltHere we go…Put the tomatoes in a large bowl.Smoosh, yes, smoosh the tomatoes with your hands. Don’t be afraid, dig in and squeeze your tomatoes, it’s fun. There’s a small, bitter yellow core that needs to be removed. Also, get rid of any tomato skins, stems or other funky stuff that doesn’t look like it belongs.Put your olive oil in a large sauté pan over medium heat.Put in the garlic and the crushed red pepper. Sauté a couple minutes until the garlic is pale gold. Stir occasionally. Don’t burn your garlic! It tastes really bitter when burned.Add your tomatoes. Turn the heat on high.Grab half the basil leaves, and snip with scissors (or tear into small pieces by hand) right into the sauce.Add salt to taste.When the sauce comes to a boil, reduce to medium-low heat, and simmer for about 25 minutes. Stir it every few minutes.After 25 minutes, take the remaining basil leaves, and snip into the sauce. Stir it up.Remove from heat. Taste for salt and pepper and adjust, if needed.
MANGIAMO!!
Slim Man Cooks Eggplant Parmigiana
My old apartment had three bowling alleys in it. They were built in the 1930s and were a bit dilapidated. The balls and pins were made of wood, and they weren’t in the best of shape. But you could play a game, if you didn’t mind setting up the pins after each shot.There were two grass tennis courts out back, and they, too, were dilapidated. Overgrown. You could play a set if you brought a machete.The house was huge. It had a fireplace on the first floor that could hold a Volkswagen.The house belonged to Peggy Waxter. She was outspoken, feisty, cynical, and almost 100 years old. Peggy lived upstairs, and I lived downstairs with my dog, Batu. Peggy was hard-of-hearing. On her 100th birthday, her son gave her a present. They were on the screened-in porch upstairs; I was on the patio beneath them. I could hear the son yelling,“Mom! I got you a present!”Silence.“Mom! Open it up!”Silence. Then I could hear her opening the wrapping paper.“Mom! It’s a hearing aid!”Silence.“Mom! What do you think? IT’S A HEARING AID!”Silence. And then Peggy spoke softly,“I’m a hundred years old. I’ve heard enough.”The house used to be a country club called Stoney Run Club. Peggy and her husband bought it, and did some minor renovations — like adding bedrooms — but it still felt and looked like a small old country club.
The apartment downstairs must have been an old clubroom. There were the bowling alleys on the side, a large main room with a fireplace, and a huge patio that overlooked the overgrown tennis courts. You entered the apartment through a big screen door in the kitchen. The kitchen was great; lots of large windows, a big antique sink, and old wood countertops. It had a small four-burner stove in the corner that worked like a charm.Batu and I started making cooking videos in that little kitchen. I’d whip up a dish, shoot video, take photos and write down the recipe. I’d take Peggy a plate once in a while. I’d go up the ancient wooden staircase, past the moldy bookcases, take her a plate, and have a chat and a chew.Roland Park is wonderful neighborhood. The grocery store, Eddie’s, has been there for 70 years. It’s an old family store that has a guy who opens the door for you when you walk in and out. The hardware store, Schneider’s, has been there for more than a 100 years. The pharmacy (Tuxedo) has been there more than 75 years.It’s that kind of neighborhood. Big old Victorian houses, big old trees, and it’s right in the middle of Baltimore City. I went to school in Roland Park. I’ve always loved the neighborhood. I loved that apartment. So did Batu. It was my favorite place to live. And I adored Peggy.The Baltimore Sun newspaper called her “peppery.” She was not afraid to speak her mind. She was named one of the Top Ten Most Powerful Women In Baltimore by Baltimore Magazine. Not that she was impressed by that. She once said,“I’m the most-honored person who has never graduated from a school.”Her husband, Thomas, graduated from a couple of schools including Princeton and Yale. Peggy and Thomas came from money and they both dedicated their lives to helping “poor people.” That’s the way she put it.“He was the most important man in Maryland,” Peggy Waxter once said about Thomas. “He loved the poor people, and he went to Annapolis and fought for them.”When he died in 1962, Peggy harnessed her grief, and focused on community action. She fought for women’s rights and civil rights. She once got pissed off that a big department store in downtown Baltimore wouldn’t allow black people to try clothes on. So Peggy took a black friend and went shopping there. They tried on clothes. They didn’t get arrested, but it brought attention to the situation, and it changed soon after.At 100 years old, Peggy got around pretty well. She used a walker, but she got around. Whenever she had a problem, she’d bang her cane on the floor, and I’d come up and help.
Once a year, in late September, I’d grab Batu, and we’d head to Ocean City, Maryland. My uncle Oscar had a small apartment overlooking the Atlantic Ocean. He’d let the family use it for vacations. September is a great time of year to go – no crowds, no traffic, the weather and the water still warm.I’d hang out for a week or so; bodysurf, fly my kites, cook, eat, drink, write, play guitar. And then I’d lock up the joint and head back to 
Baltimore.I was driving home from the beach one early evening, Batu was in the back, I was listening to the Orioles and the Yankees baseball game on the AM radio. I stopped at a roadside stand and picked out two large, ripe and lovely home-grown tomatoes and an eggplant. I drove home, crossing the Bay Bridge as the sun went down. It was late when I got back to Roland Park.The next morning I heard that Peggy had passed away. She was 103. I was shaken.That day I was scheduled to mail out the new Slim Man CD single to 175 radio stations around the country. I stuffed 175 CD singles of “Every Time It Rains” into 175 envelopes and went to the post office.The post office was a little old brick building in the heart of Roland Park. I was friends with all the clerks. They used to let me bring Batu inside. Some of them would even come out to Slim Shows. I dropped off my 175 CDs and they mailed them off.I got home from the post office and needed to cook. I was really sad. I was gonna miss Peggy. I looked at the tomatoes and eggplant that I had picked up from the produce stand on the way home from Ocean City. What do you do with tomatoes and eggplant?You make Eggplant Parmigiana.After Peggy died, her son sold her house for half of what it was worth-he just wanted to get rid of it. Batu and I had to move in a hurry, in the dead of winter, right after Christmas. As I was going through my stuff, I came across a card Peggy had given me for my birthday.“Eat, drink and be merry, for tomorrow you may die.”Love, Peggy.EGGPLANT PARMIGIANA
If I have some amazing homegrown tomatoes, I’ll use them to make a sauce. I chop ‘em up, and remove any stems or blemishes.But I usually use Italian tomatoes in a can. San Marzano tomatoes are best. Most cans are 28 ounces, which is about 3 or 4 cups. Open the can, put the tomatoes in a bowl, and smoosh ‘em up by hand, removing any stems, cores, or blemishes.Some folks fry the eggplant slices first, some folks bake ‘em. I’ve done it both ways. In the video, I fry the eggplant.But baking is now by far my favorite; it makes the dish much lighter. Eggplant throws off a lot of liquid. But when you bake it, the liquid evaporates, so you don’t have to salt the eggplant and drain it, which is a pain.Preheat your oven to 375 degrees.INGREDIENTSYou’ll need 3 cups of tomato sauce, you can use bottled sauce—but I make my own, here’s how:2 tablespoons olive oil6 cloves of garlic, sliced thin (about 2 tablespoons)Crushed red pepper (I start off with ¼ teaspoon)4 cups of tomatoes, fresh or canned (I use 1 twenty-eight ounce can of whole, peeled Italian tomatoes)Fresh basil leaves about 1/2 cupKosher SaltHere we go…The SaucePut a large sauté pan over medium-low heat.Add the olive oil, the sliced garlic and the crushed red pepper.Cook until golden, 3 to 5 minutes.Add the 4 cups of tomatoes – canned or fresh.Add some salt, and stir.Put the heat on high.When the sauce comes to a boil, reduce the heat to a simmer.Take half the basil leaves, and tear or snip them with scissors into the sauce. Stir.Cook for 20 minutes, stir often.Then, taste for salt and red pepper and adjust.Take the rest of the basil leaves, and snip them into the sauce.Remove from heat.You might not use all this sauce for the eggplant parmigiana.INGREDIENTS The Eggplant3 small eggplant3 eggs3 cups Panko breadcrumbs, or whatever breadcrumbs you likeOPTIONAL: ¼ cup olive oil (if you’re frying, rather than baking)A handful of fresh basil (3/4 cup)1 pound of mozzarella, two large balls sliced into ¼ inch circular slices1 generous cup Parmigiano-Reggiano cheese, freshly grated, plus some for sprinklingKosher saltFresh cracked pepperHere we go!Slice off the ends of the eggplant, and cut the eggplant into circular slices, about ½ inch thick.Take the eggs, beat ‘em in a bowl, add salt and pepper.Take your breadcrumbs, put ‘em on a flat plate.Dip an eggplant slice in the beaten egg, let the excess drip off.Dip it in the breadcrumbs. Coat both sides. Do all the eggplant slices like this.If you’re baking, put them in a nonstick baking pan, and stick ‘em in the oven at 375 degrees until golden brown, about 12 to 15 minutes or so. Then, flip them over and bake for another 12 to 15 minutes until golden brown.If you’re frying, put the olive oil over medium heat, and fry on both sides until golden, about 4 minutes a side, then put the slices on paper towels when done.In the bottom of a baking dish (I used a 9”X13” glass baking dish), add a layer of baked/fried eggplant. Then add a cup of tomato sauce, spreading it out evenly. Then add some basil, about ¼ cup — snip the leaves with a scissors or tear them with your fingers.Then take a 1/3 cup of freshly grated Parmigiano-Reggiano cheese, and spread it on top. And then add a layer of sliced mozzarella, about a third of what you have (1/3 pound).Go back, Jack, do it again - a layer of eggplant, a layer of sauce, a layer of basil, a layer of Parmigiano, and a layer of mozzarella.Do three layers. Sprinkle the top of the final layer of mozzarella with grated Parmigiano and a few breadcrumbs.
Put the eggplant Parmigiano in the oven. Let it cook for about 25 minutes.Then, put the broiler on high, and put the baking dish underneath the broiler for just a quick minute, to brown the top. Keep a close eye on this! When the top browns, take out the dish.If there is any excess liquid in the bottom of the pan, use a turkey baster to remove it.
Let the eggplant sit for a couple minutes. Then…Dish it up! Make it look nice, put some freshly torn basil leaves on top, add some freshly grated Parmigiano, and…MANGIAMO!!!!
Slim Man Cooks Pizza
Pizza with Marc Antoine and Dean Martin
I don’t know why Marc and I started calling each other “Bastardo.” We had just met.“How ya doin’, bastardo?”“What’s up, bastardo?”Marc Antoine is a tremendously gifted guitar player. I love the way he plays. He’s played with Rod Stewart, Sting, Celine Dion. Marc was born in Paris, and living in L.A. when I first met him.A percussionist named Steve Reid had put together a tour; he called it Jazzatopia. Marc on guitar, Me on vocals, and Everette Harp on sax. We traveled all over the US; Marc and I became fast friends. The year was 1997.We were in San Antonio playing a place called the White Rabbit. The night before the show, Marc and I went downtown to the Riverwalk, a collection of bars and cafes alongside the San Antonio River. I was in an open-air Mexican restaurant, and Marc was down by the water.I was sitting at the bar, surrounded by my Spanish-speaking brothers and sisters, when I heard one of my songs come over the sound system. It was one of the first times I’d ever heard my music on the radio. I jumped up and screamed out to Marc, who was about 50 yards away,“BASTARDO!”The restaurant went dead silent. A couple of guys pulled out machetes. For a couple moments there, I thought guns might be drawn. Everyone was staring at me. They finally relaxed when they realized I wasn’t screaming at any of them. I just smiled a sheepish smile, waved weakly and walked out. I don’t think Marc and I called each other “bastardo” after that.The Jazzatopia tour started with rehearsals in an industrial complex outside of L.A. There were three warehouses.In one warehouse they were building white plastic Storm Trooper uniforms for a Star Wars movie. There were hundreds of them hanging on racks outside in the sun to dry. It was bizarre.In another warehouse, Fleetwood Mac was rehearsing for their tour. A year before, I had played a club in D.C. owned by Mick Fleetwood, the drummer. We became friendly; he wasn’t the kind of friend I could ask to bail me out of jail, but he knew who I was. I went over and said hello. I stood around and listened to Fleetwood Mac rehearse.Then there was our warehouse, number three. The Jazzatopia warehouse. At our first rehearsal, Marc got into a fistfight with the drummer, who had to be replaced. Seriously. After that, things calmed down a bit. I think Marc scared the shit out of the rest of the band. Everybody fell in line.
One night while we were out on tour, Marc told me the story about a lovely woman he had met while he was doing a TV show in Madrid. He was playing, she was one of the dancers on the set, dancing to his music, it was love at first sight.She must have made quite an impression, because after our tour, Marc went to Madrid and asked her to marry him. He invited me to their wedding in Madrid.The wedding was wild and fun and crazy. We danced. We ate. We drank. We played. I think I sang a few songs with the band. The wedding started in the afternoon and went until 4 AM? Or was it 5? I think it was 6 AM when I caught a cab back to the hotel.The day after the wedding, I went to Marbella, a beach town on the Mediterranean. I was at a seaside bar, drinking sangria – the kind they make with white wine and brandy and Cointreau – and I’d had a few. It was late afternoon.A song came over the sound system as the sun was setting.“When the moon hits your eye like a big pizza pie, that’s amore.” Dean Martin was singing. I love Dino. I love that song. But when I thought about that opening line, I turned to the guy standing next to me and said,“ ‘When the moon hits your eye like a big pizza pie, that’s amore.’ What the hell kinda of lyric is that?”The guy turned to me and said, “I’ve never worked a day in my life because of that song.”He told me that one of his relatives had written that song, and a bunch of others. His relative had willed him the royalties when he died.The guy who wrote “That’s Amore” was Harry Warren, the son of Italian immigrants. He wrote “Chattanooga Choo Choo”, “Jeepers Creepers”, “You Must Have Been a Beautiful Baby” and a lot of other smash hits.
Harry Warren also won three Academy awards, and was nominated eleven times. No wonder no one in his family had to work. Ever. True story.I told the story to Marc. He wasn’t surprised. Marc then told me a story. His friend had written a song — not a hit song, just a song — that was included on The BodyGuard soundtrack. That’s the movie with Kevin Costner and Whitney Houston where Whitney sings “I Will Always Love You.”The soundtrack sold millions of copies. The movie was a smash. Marc’s friend’s first royalty check was for about two million dollars. That’s a lot of dough.Speaking of dough - want me to show you how to make a pizza?When the moon hits your eye, like a big pizza pie, that’s amore!
PIZZAPizza is kind of like making love. Even when it’s bad, it’s pretty good.First things first - if you’re gonna make your own dough, you gotta do it a day in advance. There was a great deli in Baltimore named Mastellone that sold fresh pizza dough, and it was amazing, better than I could make myself. If you can find a great deli that has fresh dough, use it! If not, make your own, it’s a-not-a so bad!This recipe will yield enough dough for 2 pizzas.I make my own tomato sauce, it only takes about 25 minutes--my recipe is on page XX. You can use bottled tomato sauce. Either way, you’ll need about a ½ cup of sauce per pizza.Unless you have a wood-fired oven, you’re gonna need a pizza stone. You’ll also need a paddle to get the pizza on and off the stone – because that stone is gonna get really hot. How hot? Five hundred degrees. That’s how hot your oven should be. The pizza stone should sit in that hot oven for at least 30 minutes before you put a pizza on it.Ready?INGREDIENTS:For the Dough:3 cups of bread flour, plus a little more for dusting2 teaspoons turbinado sugar (turbinado sugar has a molasses flavor, but you can use regular sugar if you want)1 ½ teaspoons of salt (this is one of those rare instances when I DON’T use kosher salt, I use table salt)½ teaspoon rapid rise yeast1 and 1/3 cups really cold water1 tablespoon olive oil (plus a tablespoon for the kneading surface)Corn meal for dusting the pizza paddleTOPPINGS:1/2 cup of tomato sauce per pizzaFresh mozzarella cheese, sliced into thin slices, or shredded (about a cup per pizza)Parmigiano-Reggiano cheese, grated (about ¼ cup per pizza)Basil leaves (about ¼ cup per pizza)If you want, you can add — sausage, pepperoni, cut-up meatballs, diced chicken cutlets, Feta cheese, Asiago cheese, provolone cheese, spinach, peppers, onions, shallots – feel free to get creative.Here we go…
I do the dough by hand in a wooden bowl — it’s kinda sexy that way.Put the flour, sugar, salt and yeast in a wooden bowl. Mix by hand, just a couple stirs.Make a crater in the middle of the flour. Pour the cold water in the hole, and start folding the flour over the water. Mix by hand for a few minutes.When everything is combined, and all the flour is soaked up into the dough, take the dough out of the bowl, roll it in a ball and put it back in the bowl. Let it sit for 15 minutes, uncovered.Then, make a small crater on top of the dough ball, and pour the olive oil in. Fold the dough around the olive oil, so it blends in. Work the olive oil into the dough for a couple of minutes. The dough will be just a little sticky.Lightly oil a large chopping block — or you can use your counter top. Drizzle some olive oil onto a paper towel, and dampen the chopping block or countertop. Don’t throw away that towel. We’ll use it again momentarily.Take the dough out of the bowl, and place it on the chopping block or counter top. Let’s knead some dough! Make your hand into a fist, and press your knuckles into the dough, and roll it around, form it into a ball, and do it again. Knead, knead, knead.After a few minutes, take that lightly-oiled paper towel and rub it on the inside of a large glass or ceramic bowl.Shape the dough back into a ball, place it in the oiled bowl, and cover it tightly with plastic wrap.Put it in the fridge for 24 hours.Time to make some pizza…Take the dough out of the fridge. Cut it into two equal parts. Roll each into a ball. Put both dough balls on a lightly oiled baking pan. Cover loosely with plastic wrap.Put your pizza stone on the middle rack in your oven.Turn your oven to its highest setting, 500 degrees.Wait 30 minutes — for the stone to heat up and for the dough to settle.Time to grab your dough balls.Dust a chopping block or counter top with flour. Grab a dough ball, put it on the block and flatten by hand into an 8-inch circle.Using a rolling pin, roll the dough into a 12-inch circle.If you don’t have a rolling pin, do it by hand. Start working the edges, using your fingers to spread the dough into a larger circle, until it’s about 12 inches.You don’t want the dough too thick, or too thin.If things get sticky — your hands or your rolling pin — dust with some flour.After your dough is formed into a 12” circle, dust your pizza paddle with a little corn meal. Corn meal will help the pizza slide on and off the paddle. Corn meal doesn’t burn at high temperatures like flour does. Dust your paddle with corn meal, and put your dough on the paddle.Take a ladle of sauce, about half a cup, and spread it evenly around the dough in a thin layer.Snip some basil leaves onto the pizza. Add your mozzarella, spread it around evenly, and then sprinkle on the Parmigiano cheese.If you have any other ingredients you’d like to add —sausage, peppers, olives, etc. — now is the time.Now to the oven - 
When your pizza is ready, open the oven, and slide the pizza off the paddle and onto the heated pizza stone.Cook for about 10 minutes.Then, check your pizza. When the outer crust is light brown, and the mozzarella on top is browning and gooey, you’re done.If the cheese needs a little help browning, turn on your broiler, and let the cheese brown — THIS ONLY TAKES A MINUTE OR LESS!Grab your paddle, scoot the pizza off the stone and onto the paddle, and place the pizza on a platter. Eat it up! Then make another pizza with the second ball of dough. Go back, Jack, do it again. Use some different toppings! When it’s done…Slice it up, serve it up, and sing a little song…“When the moon hits your eye like a big pizza pie, that’s amore!”
MANGIAMO!!!!!!!!!!
Slim Man Cooks Angela's Chicken Stew
Angela's Chicken Stew and The Story of Angela
Almost every Sunday, we’d go to my grandmother’s house and have a big Italian dinner. The usual suspects would be there; my Mom and Dad and us three kids, and my uncle Oscar, his wife and three kids. The kids would play in the backyard, wrestle on the living-room floor, and jump on the beds in the basement. Angela would cook, and when the pasta was ready, she’d serve us kids at the kitchen table and say…“Eat that spaghetti or I’ll shove it down your throat.”Which we kids thought was ridiculously hilarious.Angela was my grandmother. She was an Italian immigrant, who came from Italy to New York City as a child. The family lived in Harlem. As a teenager, Angela and her sister, Marie, started working in a garment sweatshop — like so many other Italian immigrant women--seven days a week, all day long, for next to nothing. Disgusted with the working conditions, she and Marie helped organize the first dressmakers strike for the fledgling International Ladies Garment Workers Union.Their mother, Giuseppina, accompanied her daughters on the strike, brandishing a rolling pin, telling anybody within earshot that if anybody messed with her girls, they’d have to go through her first. Angela and Marie continued to organize, with Giuseppina following them with her rolling pin.Angela was very effective; she was an eloquent, persuasive and fearless organizer. She was eventually offered a chance to organize and manage the Delaware, Maryland, and Virginia area (later known as the Upper South Department of the ILGWU) and she accepted the challenge. So she gathered up her two sons, and moved to Baltimore, Maryland.Angela started by going to small towns on the Eastern Shore of Maryland. She didn’t drive. The ILGWU eventually found her a driver, a one-eyed African-American named Jesse. I can only imagine what it must have been like, going to these tiny towns in the not-so-deep south, an Italian woman and her black driver, trying to convince people to join the union.Organizing was a tough business in those days. Factory owners didn’t want anything to do with unions — it would obviously cost them money to pay a decent wage and provide benefits. A lot of those factory owners ran their towns. They had the politicians and police in their pockets.My grandmother was thrown down a flight of steps when she tried to organize one shop. She was thrown in jail after trying to organize another. She was beaten more than once.But she persisted. Why? Because it pissed her off the way the workers were treated. Women were locked in factories for hours at a time. One hundred and forty six garment workers died in a fire at the Triangle Shirtwaist factory in New York because the owners had locked the doors to keep the workers inside working. Women were sexually abused. They made very little money. They had no rights. Angela wanted to change all that.And she did. She took her region of the Ladies Garment Workers Union from nothing to about 16,000 members when she retired in 1972. She was the first woman vice president of a major union. She substantially raised the standard of living for thousands and thousands of people. And she did it without expecting anything in return. She told me more than once…“When you give, you give with no strings attached.”Everybody loved her, including the bosses she fought with. They respected her.
Angela made some tough choices when she started organizing in New York. Her marriage suffered. Her husband, Romollo, was an Italian from Rome; Angela’s father had arranged the marriage. Romollo, who was old-fashioned and older than Angela, didn’t approve of her radicalism, and they filed for divorce. During the divorce, her children — my father Philip and my uncle Oscar – were put in an orphanage while Angela and Romollo, fought for custody.Romollo was a waiter at a fancy hotel. Angela was a radical union organizer who’d been thrown in jail. Romollo used that evidence against Angela and won custody; a crushing blow to Angela. She started using her maiden name, Bambace.Angela stayed close to her kids; she moved to a house in Queens near Romollo’s. She watched over her two boys; she was determined to do whatever she could to help. When she moved the family to Baltimore, she put Oscar through medical school and Philip through law school.Angela was amazing –feisty, strong, and strong-willed. She drank (bourbon Manhattans or chianti), she smoked (Larks), and she cared more about people than anyone I have ever known.Angela used to wait in the alley in her housecoat during Christmas to tip the garbage men. Homeless guys would come to the back door; she’d make them a sandwich, and then pay them to do yard work. All this from a woman who was invited to John F. Kennedy’s inauguration and had U.S. Senators sending her Christmas cards. Mayors and governors would stop by the house during holidays.
One day she was in the hospital for a surgery when Hubert Humphrey, the Vice President of the United States called. They were friends. The nurse handed the phone to Angela, but she thought it was her son, Philip, playing a joke. So she hung up, saying she wasn’t in the mood for any of his “crap.”A few moments later the phone rang again. The nurse told Angela it was the Vice President. Again. She took the call.Angela would cuss on occasion. I remember one night she took us kids to a restaurant, and she told the Baltimore City Comptroller, Hyman Pressman, that he was “full of shit” after he recited an impromptu poem about my sister. Everyone laughed, including Hyman, who knew my grandmother well, and loved her.The politicians admired Angela because she was honest, uncompromising; she couldn’t be bought or influenced. She fought for what she believed in. She was a champion to the workers she represented; people who were really struggling to make ends meet.
Angela was modest, in every sense of the word. She never bragged about her accomplishments. She lived in a modest house. She didn’t wear diamonds or fancy jewelry. Oscar once bought her a fur coat; she didn’t feel comfortable wearing it, because she thought it would be hypocritical to be fighting for the causes of working people while waltzing around in a mink coat.My family lived with Angela from the time I was born until I was six. I lived with Angela again when I was in my late teens. I used to do her shopping. I’d drive (in the used American Motors Rambler she bought me) to a little store behind the Lexington Market in downtown Baltimore called DiMarco’s. They used to sell Italian meats, cheeses and wines.I used to buy her Chianti – in the small straw bottles — that didn’t cost more than two or three dollars. Angela and I would have dinner, we’d have a glass of Chianti, and she’d tell me stories about her life. I was fascinated. Crazy how some kids get so attached to their grandparents. I was really attached to Angela.One night Oscar, her first son, walked in with a suitcase and a case of wine. He told us he had just left his wife. I guess Oscar’s wife wasn’t too happy about it, because the reason he brought the case of wine was because he didn’t want her pouring his ridiculously expensive vino down the sink after he left.Oscar moved in. The two of us shared my bedroom in Angela’s basement.Angela and I were having dinner one night when Oscar told us he was going out. He left, and we finished our dinner and our glass of Chianti. When she asked me for another glass, I told her there was no more.
She asked about Oscar’s wine. I told Angela that all we had was Oscar’s special wine. She looked at me and said.“Who more special than we?”Angela told me to go get a bottle. So I pulled a bottle from Oscar’s case, and poured us each a glass. Angela took a sip and started laughing. The wine was that incredible.After we finished our glass of wine, she wanted to go to sleep. I asked her what to do with the wine. She said to stick a cork in it and put it in the fridge, just like we did with the Chianti. I did, and then went to bed.A little after midnight, I woke up when I heard Oscar yelling my name. He came into the basement bedroom. He wasn’t too happy about finding his fine wine in the fridge with a cork jammed in it. I told him the story. When I got to the “Who more special than we?” part, he started laughing.Oscar then gave me my first lesson in wine, one of many to come. He explained to me that the bottle I had opened was a 1954 Chateau Mouton Rothschild cabernet. The labels were drawn by famous artists –Salvador Dali, Picasso, and Miro. When he told me the bottle of wine was worth three hundred dollars, I was amazed. It was the early 1970s. At that time, three hundred dollars could buy a car. And a house. With a pool. And a wine cellar.
ANGELA’S CHICKEN STEWWe called Angela “Nanny”, which is a screwed up version of “nonni”, which is what most Italian kids call their grandmothers. Angela didn’t seem to love cooking, and who could blame her? She worked long hours, was frequently out of town. We ate out a lot. She loved Chinese food; we used to go to a place on Charles Street in Baltimore called Jimmy Wu’s. She ate lunch almost every workday at a place called Oyster Bay in downtown Baltimore, right around the corner from her office. Pete was her waiter. Angela loved steak tartare, and French onion soup.When Angela cooked, she had a rotation of three dishes for our big Sunday Italian dinners. She almost always made breaded cutlets (veal or chicken) with each dish.Pasta piselli was a spaghetti dish she made with peas and onions. She also made the classic Italian meat sauce—sausages, meatballs, and pork in a tomato sauce that cooked all day long. And she made an Italian chicken stew, which I recently tried to recreate with the few remaining brain cells that I have left. The stew was delizioso!Angela was a champion of the underdog, of the neglected.Most chicken recipes call for chicken breasts. I love chicken breasts. I’m a big fan. Yes, breasts are sexy. A lot of attention gets paid to breasts, and rightfully so. But what about the much overlooked chicken thigh?It’s an underdog. It’s neglected. It needs someone to champion its cause. If Angela were alive today, she’d be singing the praises of the dark meat, fighting for its rightful place in the culinary catalogue.So in Angela’s chicken stew, I use chicken thighs.I admire the thigh. It’s juicy. It starts at the knee and goes all the way up to the hip--which is really close to some sexy stuff. I think thighs are sexy. And I’m bringing sexy back.Notes…When you brown your pancetta pieces, or your chicken thighs, you want the heat high enough to make them brown, but not so high that they burn or stick to the bottom of the pan. Dutch ovens work well for a dish like this. Stoves vary in temperature—on my stove at Slim’s Shady Trailer Park, the temperature varies FROM BURNER TO BURNER! It’s enough to drive you crazy.Well, I was a little crazy to begin with.Angela liked to drink sweet vermouth. Not all day, every day. She’d have the occasional Martini and Rossi sweet vermouth on the rocks, sometimes with bourbon and a maraschino cherry—a bourbon Manhattan.In this recipe, I was going to add some sweet vermouth, but I didn’t have any. I used a medium sherry instead. It added a real nice flavor.If you don't like peas, you can substitute asparagus tips. If you’re using frozen green peas, measure out a cup and a half and let them sit. You don’t have to defrost them. By the time they’re ready to go in the stew, they’ll be defrosted.Finally, when I was at the grocery store, I was waiting in line to buy a whole piece of pancetta, which I was going to chop into small pieces for this stew. But the line at the deli was real long, so I picked up a package of Boar’s Head pancetta, four ounces, thinly sliced. I chopped it up into smaller pieces, and it came to about 1 ¼ cups.It browned really well, and got deliciously flaky and crisp. I’ll probably use it again in the future. It was delizioso!When working with raw chicken, wash your cutting boards, your knives, your hands.Serves six adults, or maybe two teenage boys.
INGREDIENTS2 pounds chicken thighs, boneless, skinless (6 thighs)Kosher salt and fresh cracked black pepper4 ounces pancetta cut in small pieces (1 ¼ cups)1 cup each—chopped onions and celery1 ½ cups chopped carrotsCelery tops—those leafy green things? Save 4 or 5 leaves!3 cloves minced garlic (about 1 tablespoon)½ teaspoon dried oregano1 cup white wine4 cups chicken broth3 tablespoons of flour4 small red potatoes, skin on, cut into pieces about the size of a ping-pong ball (you’ll need about 2 ½ cups)2 tablespoons medium sherry (or sweet vermouth, or sweet marsala)1 ½ cups green peas (fresh are best, frozen are OK)Extra virgin olive oil (optional)Here we go…Rinse the chicken and pat dry with paper towels. Salt and pepper both sides, I use kosher salt and fresh cracked black pepper. Rub it in. Rub-a-dub-dub.Heat a large pot, like a Dutch oven, over medium heat for 2 minutes.Add the pancetta, let it cook for 4 minutes, or until brown. Try and turn the pancetta over and let the other side brown for 4 more minutes or so. The objective here is to try and get all sides of the pancetta pieces golden brown.When the pancetta has browned, remove with a slotted spoon to a small bowl.There should be some drippings in the bottom of the pot/Dutch oven. We need just enough to coat the bottom of the pan—about 1 tablespoon.If there is not enough, add a drizzle of olive oil until there is. If there’s too much oil, the chicken won’t brown. If there’s too little oil, the chicken will stick to the bottom of the pot. You’re smart. You can do this.Turn the heat to medium-high for 1 minute.Add chicken and let it brown for 5 minutes. Don’t move it around! Let it brown.When it’s brown, use some tongs and turn each piece over. Let them brown on the other side for 5 minutes, until golden.The chicken is gonna cook in the stew for another 40 minutes. We don’t want to cook it all the way. We just want the outsides to be seared brown.Remove the chicken thighs to a platter, and let ‘em cool, baby.Turn the heat down to medium. There should be enough juicy stuff in the bottom of the pan. We’ll need about 2 tablespoons. If there’s not enough liquid/oil in the bottom of the pan, add a little olive oil.
Add the onion, celery--the chopped celery and the tops, carrots, garlic and oregano to the pot. Cook the vegetables for 5-6 minutes, until the onions are translucent. Stir frequently.Put the heat on high. Add the cup of white wine. When it starts to bubble, let it cook off for 1 minute.Reduce the heat to medium, and cook for 5 minutes, stirring often.Add the chicken broth, and turn the heat to high.Whisk in the flour, 1 tablespoon at a time, until it’s smooth and all the lumps are gone. When all 3 tablespoons have been whisked in, and it’s all smoovy-smoov…Add the potatoes. When the broth comes to a boil, let the potatoes cook for 3 minutes, while boiling.Reduce the heat to medium. Add the 2 tablespoons of sherry or sweet vermouth.Cook for 15 minutes.
The chicken should be cool by now. Cut each chicken thigh into smaller pieces, about the size of a small egg.Put the chicken in the pot. Reduce the heat to medium-low. Cook for 20 minutes.Don’t stir! This is a stew. Let it sit and stew for a while. You keep stirring this thing and potatoes are gonna break up, and chicken is gonna break down.After 20 minutes, give it a stir. Then cook for another 20 minutes.Add the peas and the cooked pancetta. Cook for 10 minutes.Scrape the sides of the pot, right above the stew-line. Scrape it right into the stew, this is some flavorful stuff! Give the stew a gentle stir, taste for salt and pepper and adjust.Stab a potato with a folk—it should be tender. Take a bite of the chicken—it should be firm and just a bit flaky—like me.Dish it up, and…
MANGIAMO!!!!