Men sometimes go a couple days without showering. If it’s a weekend, and nobody’s coming over, most men just let it go. I hate to admit this, SlimNation, but I do this maybe once a month when I’m in solitary confinement at the Fortress of Slim Solitude.Well, a couple days ago, I was tired, dead on my feet. I was starving, but I didn’t want to take a shower and go to the store; I just wanted to barricade myself in the Slim Shack and hibernate. So I took a look around to see what was available.I call this pot luck pasta. I’ve done it many times. Back when I was a starving musician, I’d take a look in the cupboard and the fridg and make a sauce of whatever I could find. Sometimes it was good. Sometimes it wasn’t.I once made a pasta sauce with Swiss cheese that was so hard to gag down that one of the guys in the band named it “Fettucine del Cemento.” Seriously.It sat in the bowl like a mound of muddy muck. It was so chewy that it could’ve pulled the fillings out of your teeth. I could have fixed the front sidewalk with it.But last night I made this pot luck pasta sauce and it was really good. You know it’s really good when you heat it up the next day and it tastes even better than the day before. And this was good, Slim People.So, taking inventory at the Slim Shack, I saw that I had some broccoli. I also had a thing of grape tomatoes. I tasted both, because if you take a taste of broccoli, for instance, and your first instinct is to spit it on the floor, you might not want to use it in your sauce.The broccoli tasted good; the grape tomatoes were some of the most delicious I’ve ever tasted. They were organic, they were not expensive, and they were so good I ate a handful right there. I just kept popping them in my tomato hole. The tomatoes were also beautiful; red, yellow, orange, green.Then, I looked in the freezer and noticed some frozen shrimp, wild. And on the refrigerator door I had about a half a glass of pinot grigio left in the bottom of a bottle, and I found a Tupperware of toasted pine nuts (pignoli) on the shelf that I had leftover from making pesto sauce.So I put them all together, and…she was a-so nice! Seriously delish and nutrish.I put it over pasta, but you can put it over bruschetta, or rice, or on a pizza. The pasta I used had a strange name that I don’t remember, it looked like penne rigate, but it had a fold running down the center. It was in a half-pound package. And it was delizioso!So, here it is. Slim’s Pot Luck Pasta without the pot. But with all the luck!Oh, and I took a shower the next day. I didn’t want you Slim People to think Uncle Slimmy had gone all raggedy on ya.
INGREDIENTS ½ pound of pasta (spaghetti or linguine work well, but use what ya gots!)Olive oil, a couple tablespoons6 large garlic cloves, smashed and peeledCrushed red pepper to taste1 cup broccoli florets (make sure the pieces are small)½ cup dry white wine¾ pound medium wild shrimp, de-shelled and de-veined2 tablespoons of butter, cut into small pieces1 cup grape tomatoes, cut in half, seeds squeezed out¼ cup toasted pine nuts (pignoli toasted in a dry pan over medium heat, shake often)OPTIONAL: freshly grated Parmigiano cheese for schprinkling, will explain later!HERE WE GO…Get a large pot, fill it full of cold water, put it on the highest heat possible. ALWAYS KEEP THE HEAT HIGH!When the water comes to a boil, add a couple tablespoons of coarse Kosher salt.Add the pasta. Stir often. As the pasta cooks, now let’s whip up the sauce…DA SAUCEGet a large saute pan, put it over medium heat, and add 2 tablespoons of olive oil.Add the garlic cloves, let them saute a couple minutes until pale gold, then turn over and do the same to the other side. DON’T BURN YOUR GARLIC. It tastes really bitter, Slim Folks.
Add the broccoli, and give it a stir. Cook for a couple minutes until the broccoli wilts, stir often.Add the white wine, turn up the heat to high, and let the wine cook off for a minute or two.Turn the heat back to medium and add the shrimp in a single layer, sprinkle with a little salt.Let the shrimp cook for 2 minutes or so, then turn them over, sprinkle a little salt on top.Add the butter, arrange the pieces between the shrimp.Let this cook for 2 minutes or so, and then add the grape tomatoes.Give it a GENTLE stir, and let the tomaters heat up for a minute or two.REMOVE FROM HEAT, SAUCE IS DONE DA DONE DONE!The pasta? Remember that?When the pasta is al dente, firm to the bite, drain it, put it in a beautiful bowl, and drizzle with a little olive oil, give it a stir or three.Add the sauce right on top of the pasta, and give it a gentle stir.Dish it up! Put a serving in one of them expensive-looking plates, sprinkle a few pine nuts on top.Some women folk I know like to put grated Parmigiano cheese on top. Most Italians don’t do this, but if the Slim Woman wants cheese, save yourself some trouble, my Man Friends, and just shut up and grate.
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 Caprese Salad
I was conceived on the Isle of Capri. That’s what my Mom told me. She would know - I hope!Capri is an island off the coast of Italy. My Dad was in Europe, helping with the reconstruction after World War II. My Mom was with him. On their way back to the USA, my folks stopped in Capri. Lucky for me.I was born in Baltimore, Maryland, soon after my folks arrived from Capri. Couldn’t they have stayed on Capri for a couple more months?My folks loved music. My Dad loved old blues and Dixieland jazz; my Mom loved everything. When I say everything, I mean everything. Miles Davis, Chet Baker, Nat King Cole, Isaac Hayes, Aretha Franklin, Bonnie Raitt, Ella Fitzgerald, The Band, Dylan, Johnny Winter, Joan Baez, Hank Williams, Sr., Stan Getz, Astrud Gilberto, Dave Brubeck, The Beatles, Stevie Wonder, Harry Nilsson, Randy Newman, Donovan, Dave Grusin, Marvin Gaye, Norah Jones, Anita Baker, Gladys Knight. I could go on and on.I guess I just did.My Mom turned me on to so many great artists. We’d go see shows together; everyone from Gladys Knight and the Pips to Paul Simon. When Paul Simon came to town, she bought a couple tickets. When the young guy sitting in front of us stood up and started doing the hippy-dippy Grateful Dead dance, she pulled him by his shirt back into his seat and quietly told him to sit down.Dayuummm, Ma! Making me look bad! The guy sat quietly for the rest of the show. My Mom was quiet, but strong.
My Mom didn’t have a lot of dough, but she’d treat herself to music—she always had a nice stereo, and went to see concerts. I remember her going to see Bonnie Raitt when she was playing local college gymnasiums. My Mom would drive to Annapolis, Maryland, to see Charlie Byrd play jazz guitar at the King of France Tavern.My Mom had a lovely voice, sweet and clear with a natural vibrato. She would put on some music, and cook dinner and sing along. Then, we’d have dinner and read cookbooks—looking for new recipes to try. She loved music and loved cooking.She grew up poor in Eastport, which at the time was a ghetto across the bridge from Annapolis, Maryland, which was home to the Naval Academy, where her dad worked as a custodian. My Mom met my Dad in Annapolis; he was going to St. John’s College, and was in a school play. My Mom was also in the play, even though she wasn’t a student. They fell in love, and had us three dimwits. When I was born, we lived with my Dad’s Mom, Angela, in the basement of her house in Baltimore, near Pimlico Racetrack – a thoroughbred horse-racing track that was home of the Preakness Stakes.When I was six, we moved into a house a couple miles away, on a dead-end street named Rosebank. It was a great old house, what they call a “fixer-upper.” It had an upright piano in the dining room. The previous owners had built the room around the piano, and when they moved, they couldn’t get it out. So they left it there. I took the piano apart. I painted it black. I replaced the keys with new ones. I put it back together, and started playing.I was already taking trumpet lessons. Once a week, my Mom would take me down Greenmount Avenue, and I’d study trumpet with Mr. John at a place called Freitag’s. I absolutely loved Herb Alpert, and made Mr. John do all the Tijuana Brass duets with me.I used to read comic books. In the back, they had these advertisements for seeds. No, it wasn’t marijuana seeds. Vegetable seeds. You’d send away for seeds, sell them to your neighbors, and after you sold a certain amount, you could redeem your points for prizes--one of which was a guitar. I learned how to play by ear. It would have been a lot easier if I had used my hands.
There I was, a little kid, learning how to play guitar and piano and trumpet. I can imagine all the horrible sounds my Mom had to put up with. It ain’t fun listening to a kid practice. My first gig was playing guitar and singing Beatles songs at the sixth grade graduation. I was in fifth grade. Roland Park Elementary School. My first gig!When I started my rock band, Momma Max, my Mom let us rehearse in the basement. It must have been incredibly loud upstairs. When I started writing songs, my Mom would type out lyric sheets, and write letters to publishers. When I got rejection letter after rejection letter, my Mom would quietly encourage me to keep going.When I got signed to Motown as a songwriter, my Mom was ecstatic. When one of the first songs I wrote for Motown – “Summer Days” – was recorded by Angela Bofill on her debut CD, my Mom could not have been more proud—she saved all the articles and reviews. When I got offered a record deal with Motown, my Mom’s house was the headquarters while we recorded in Baltimore. When Motown decided not to release the CD, it was my Mom who kept me from jumping off the roof.After my stint at Motown, I started a band called BootCamp. The music was loud, it was rock, and it was making some big noise in the music biz. But I was screaming at the top of my lungs, all night, every night, singing way out of my range.When I lost my voice after all that screaming, when I thought I’d never be able to sing again, it was my Mom who encouraged me to sing low and slow. And that’s what I did after BootCamp broke up. Slim Man was born!When the first Slim Man CD--End of the Rainbow-- was released, my Mom was at the release party. She was about the only one in the joint. Seriously. It was a howling failure. Nobody came out. I was convinced the CD was gonna sink like a stone in the sea.Not my Mom, she kept my spirits up, kept gently encouraging me. When the End of the Rainbow CD started getting airplay, I was playing piano in a dive bar in Baltimore called The Horse You Came In On. My Mom would call the bar on Fridays, and tell me how well the CD was doing on the charts. The CD ended up going Top Ten for the year. My Mom was a huge Slim Man fan. Whenever I played around Baltimore, she’d come see me play. And then she got sick.She had this horrible illness called Supra Nuclear Palsy, a disease where the body’s motors shut down. It becomes hard to move your mouth or tongue; it’s tough to chew or swallow or talk. It’s hard to move your arms or legs. It was difficult for my Mom to even close her eyes to sleep. And yet her mind was still sharp as a razor.My Mom never complained. Not once did I hear her say, “Why me?” I rarely say “never” but I never heard her complain. All she could do was lie in bed and watch TV or listen to music. I once got an advance from a record company; I spent it on a TV and a stereo for my Mom. It was the least I could do after all the hell I’d put her through when I was a teenage idiot.Even when she was sick, she’d get my sister to take her to the Slim Shows. It wasn’t easy, getting her around in the wheelchair, when she couldn’t even move a muscle. But she made it, even when it was snowing.I took care of my Mom the best I could. I brought her food all the time. I called her almost every day, even though she couldn’t talk. I had a jazz radio show in Baltimore on Sunday mornings, I always dedicated the show to my Mom. After the show, I would visit her, bring her a dish, and we’d drink a Bloody Mary and watch old movies. One time, I rented a handicapped van, and took her and the nieces to Pimlico racetrack. Nothing like some horse-racing to take your mind off things!When I got an offer to do a cruise, I was hesitant. I didn’t want to leave my Mom, but she insisted I go. Michael van Droff--who owned a German record company that had released some of my music--organized the concert cruise. I flew to Germany, practiced with the band, and then flew to Jamaica, where the cruise ship was docked. We were going to cruise the Caribbean for a week, cross the Atlantic, and cruise the Mediterranean for a week. Not a bad gig. My first cruise.My first night on the ship was a night off. I had dinner at the huge buffet, and then nestled into my tiny little cabin. Early the next morning I got a phone call.My Mom had died. I was crushed. I was inconsolable. The Germans, they’re a pretty stoic bunch. My grief must have been pretty alarming to them, because they had me off that cruise ship within hours. It was like an evacuation. A small boat picked me up, took me to a small island, where I caught a small cab to a small airport.How small? There was one tiny runway among the palm trees. The terminal had one counter and no walls; just an old rusted tin roof overhead. They had a small sound system that played music in between announcements – which were few and far between. I was pacing; I couldn’t sit still. I had a lump in my throat the size of a basketball. My eyes were swollen and red.
I was staring off into the distance, trying to wrap my head around what had just happened, when a song of mine came over the tiny sound system. How that happened, in that little airport, on that tiny island in the Caribbean, I’ll never know. The song was “Night Like This.”I picked up my cell phone and called the first person I always called when I wanted to share a moment like that. My Mom.Except she was gone.CAPRESE SALADMy Mom was an excellent cook. She prepared all kinds of foods—Indian, Mexican, Italian, French. She once made coq au vin—a French dish of chicken with red wine—for my entire seventh grade French class.
Insalata Caprese--that’s what the Eye-Talians call it--is my favorite salad. Yes, I was conceived on the Isle of Capri, where this recipe comes from, so I am partial. But this salad is so quick, easy and delicious.There is only ONE THING you have to remember.Every ingredient has to be the best.The tomatoes have to be ripe and luscious. The olive oil has to be extra virgin, or at least one that hasn’t been pole-dancing at the club every night.This would be a good time to splurge on bufala mozzarella. Yes, it’s expensive. But it’s really, really good. Take out a second mortgage, if you haven’t already. Break open the kids’ piggy bank. This is the one time to dig deep and fork it over.Bufala mozzarella comes from water buffalos. The scientific name for water buffalo is Bubalus bubalis. Which sounds like something I made up, but didn’t. Bubalus bubalis! Boo-Bah Lish!I used organic heirloom tomatoes. They weren’t expensive, and they were so fresh, ripe and colorful and tasted like heaven.Some people use balsamic vinegar as well as olive oil on their Caprese salad.I prefer using just olive oil. But what the hell do I know?INGREDIENTS2 or 3 heirloom tomatoes, or fresh vine-ripened tomatoes1 large ball of mozzarella — I suggest bufala — about a poundExtra virgin olive oilSalt and fresh-cracked black pepperFresh basil, a handfulHere we goSlice the tomatoes into circular slices, about a ¼ inch thick.Slice the mozzarella the same way.
Grab a small flat plate. We’re going to make individual servings. Put a slice of tomato flat on the plate. Put a slice of mozzarella on top.Grab another slice of tomato, preferably a different color. Lay it on top of the first slice of mozzarella, but down about an inch, so it’s layered, like when you play solitaire. Put a slice of mozzarella on top of the second slice of tomato.One more time! Grab a slice of tomato, lay it down, put a slice of mozzarella on top.If my math is correct, you’ll have three slices of each.Drizzle some olive oil on top.Add some salt and fresh cracked black pepper.Grab some basil leaves and a pair of scissors. Snip some basil right on top of the tomatoes and mozzarella.Make as many individual plates as you can, this usually serves four. Unless you’re in my family --this would feed only one of those monsters.Serve with some crusty bread, and…
MANGIAMO!!!
Slim Man Makes Tomato Salad
A-rabs.The “A” is long, like “A”–Rod. Except A-rabs are a lot more like-able.In Baltimore, they used to have street A-rabs. These guys had brightly colored wagons, pulled by small horses, that were decorated with bells and feathers and scarves The wagons were full of fresh fruits and vegetables.The horses would slowly pull the small carriages through the alleys of Baltimore City, selling produce to the fine denizens of that quirky berg.Baltimore has a lot of alleys--a whole network of alleys. When we were kids, we’d ride our bikes for hours through the alleys. We’d get home from school, and ride the alleys until dinnertime.I always had a bike. It was the way I got around as a kid.One of my heroes as a kid was Lawrence of Arabia. I thought of my bike as my camel. I was a strange kid.Sometimes, I’d put baseball cards, attached with clothespins, on the front and back forks of my bike, and when the spokes would spin against the cards, they’d make a flapping sound that I imagined sounded like a chopper.Other times, I would put balloons on the forks, and when the spokes slapped up against the balloons, it made a much louder ‘popping’ sound—you could hear me coming from blocks away.We never wore helmets, not like people do today. Back then, I guess it was nature’s way of weeding out the knuckleheads. Funny, nobody ever got hurt.
My Mom let me find my own way. It’s not like she didn’t care—you’d never meet a more caring woman in your life—she just wanted me to figure things out on my own. So if I needed to go somewhere, I’d figure out how to get there on my bike.Plus, my Mom didn’t drive. She stayed home a lot, and in the summer, she’d have the windows up, and the front door would be open.My Mom hardly ever locked the front door. It was that kind of neighborhood.For folks that didn’t drive, having the store come to you was a good thing. When the A-rabs came to the neighborhood, you could hear them from blocks away. They’d holler…”Watermelon! Cantaloupe!” They’d call out the names of whatever stuff they had in the back of the wagon.They were mostly small black guys—I don’t know if they were African-American, or Indian, or Jamaican or Aboriginal tribesmen.My Mom would hear them coming, walk out to the alley, and buy fruits and vegetables.
I don’t know where the A-rabs got their produce from, but it was always so funky fresh. My Mom would pick out some stuff, and the A-rabs would weigh it on the small scale hanging off the back of the wagon, and put it in a brown paper bag.Summertime! One of my Mom’s favorite things? Home-grown tomatoes.My Mom would make tomato sandwiches, just a thick slice of tomato on bread with a dab of mayo and a sprinkle of salt and pepper. Bacon, lettuce and tomato sandwiches with home-grown tomatoes? The best.My Mom would also make tomato salad, which was so simple and so good.She bought me a bike a few years ago. I hadn’t ridden since I’d gotten my driver’s license--about a hundred years ago. It was the perfect bike—a red, 18-speed trail bike. I was living in Roland Park, not far from her house.I used the bike to run errands--the bank, the post office, grocery shopping. I’d also ride through the alleys to my Mom’s house, which was a couple miles away. I’d check in on her.
That bike meant a lot to me. My Mom bought it for me right before she died. Right after she passed away, it got stolen. My uncle Oscar found out about it, and bought me the same bike.I still have that bike.When I was living in Nashville, I'd ride my bike to run errands. The post office was a couple miles away from the shack. Right across the street was a fruit and vegetable place.One day they had baskets and baskets of home-grown tomatoes. I picked out a couple, and put them in my messenger bag. When I got back to the house, I made a little tomato salad.Tomato SaladNot every thing you cook or make has to be hard, or take a lot of time. I’m not ashamed at how simple and delizioso this dish is. In general, I like fresh herbs. But I prefer dried oregano on this dish. Fresh oregano is OK, but I prefer the dried on these tomatoes.That’s the way my Mom used to do it.This is one of the simplest, quickest, freshest dishes you can make.Serves two.
INGREDIENTS 2 ripe tomatoes2 tablespoons olive oil2 teaspoons of balsamic vinegar1 teaspoon oreganoSalt and pepperSlice each tomato into wedges, six wedges per tomato. Get two small bowls, salad bowls work well. Put six wedges in each bowl. Using half the ingredients...Drizzle with olive oil (1 tablespoon per bowl).Sprinkle with balsamic vinegar (1 teaspoon per bowl).Schpreckle with oregano (1/2 teaspoon per bowl).Add salt and fresh cracked black pepper.Don’t toss! When you toss tomatoes, they lose their form.Serve it up with some crusty bread to your crusty friends 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.
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Grilled Salmon with Marsala and Merci, Philipe!
Grilled Salmon Marsala with Grilled Vegetables in World War II
My Dad told me that when his platoon was going across France behind General Patton in World War II, the towns they liberated were really grateful. How grateful?In one town, as they went past an exuberant, cheering crowd, a woman grabbed my Dad, dragged him into her bedroom and made love to him right then and there.Now that’s gratitude.Before the war, my Dad was drifting. He went to St. John’s College in Annapolis, Maryland. He wasn’t a good student. They put him in charge of the college café. He took some money out of the coffers, and in a valiant effort to try and double the cash, lost it all in a late-night poker game. He was asked to leave the school.Soon after, he joined the Army and went to Europe to fight in World War II. It was a hellish and brutal experience that made my Dad a man. His father, Romollo, died of a heart attack while my father was away at war. They were close; he couldn’t go back for the funeral. It was one of the loneliest times of my Dad’s life.After the war, he went back to St. John’s. He became a good student. He graduated. He went to law school. He became a lawyer. He did all of this with no money — he was the son of poor Italian immigrants.He became a member of the U.S. Commission on Civil Rights. He helped start the Peace Corps. He wrote speeches for Vice President Hubert Humphrey. He became a professor of philosophy and literature.World War II, the toughest time of his life, turned out to be his proudest moment, the turning point that changed his life in the best way possible.
My Dad was in the XVth Corps; they followed General Patton’s 3rd Army through France, liberating town after town. One of the towns the XVth Corps liberated was Lunéville, a small town in northeastern France, about 50 miles from the German border. Lunéville was still being bombed and strafed by the Germans. My Dad was patrolling the streets one day, when he heard a German Stuka approaching. Stukas were small bombers, two-seaters that also had machine guns. My Dad saw a one-armed Frenchman, frozen with fear.My Dad ran over, grabbed the Frenchman, and pushed him to the ground and covered him, bombs exploding, bullets flying. When the Stuka passed, the guy thanked my Dad, and insisted he come to dinner. My Dad spoke French; he had acted as an interpreter for the Army on quite a few occasions. He accepted the invitation. That night, my Dad had dinner with the Frenchman and his wife in their modest home. They sat and drank plum brandy after dinner as the Frenchman, a former captain in the French Army in World War I, told stories. He was a decorated war hero who had lost his arm in World War I. The German army had recently ransacked his home, taking his car and guns and war medals.Things got quiet when the captain started talking about his daughter, Jacqueline. He started crying as he explained that Jacqueline had been visiting a friend in a nearby town when the D-Day invasion took place and all hell broke loose. He hadn’t heard from her since. He feared the worse. He wanted to try and find his daughter, but the Germans had taken his car and guns. The Frenchman showed my Dad a photo. She was beautiful. My Dad offered to see what he could do to bring the daughter back. The Frenchman and his wife were ecstatic.My Dad left and went back to the makeshift barracks. He told the story of Jacqueline to his buddy Frank. He told Frank that he had offered to try and rescue Jacqueline. Frank thought my Dad was crazy. Or drunk. Or both.The next day, my Dad dragged Frank to see the French captain. My Dad told him they’d need a map, the address of the place Jacqueline had last visited, a letter from the captain so Jacqueline would know who they were, and the photo. The French captain gave them everything plus a 5,000-franc note for Jacqueline.My Dad and Frank left, and went back to the barracks. They were both on a two-day leave. Frank reluctantly agreed to help. But they didn’t have a jeep. They went over to the nurses quarters after sundown, figuring there might be a few male visitors who might have “borrowed” a jeep to get there.Frank and my Dad found a jeep and rolled it down the hill and started it. It had a mounted machine gun between the seats. The headlights had been blackened into little slits, and were of little use. They drove in the night. It started to rain. The windshield had been removed, so visibility was low. There were small pockets of German soldiers still in the area, and there were rumors of German soldiers dressed as civilians.My Dad and Frank were trying to get to Heudicourt-sous-les-Cotes, a small town about 60 miles away where Jacqueline had last visited. The rain and the lack of visibility slowed them down; they made it halfway there, soaked to the bone and dead-tired. They slept on the floor of a roadside house that belonged to a Frenchwoman who let them doze in front of her fireplace, so they could dry off and rest.The next day they made it to Heudicourt. They went to the address and showed the woman the photo and the letter. She explained that Jacqueline had caught a ride a few days before to stay with an uncle in Verdun, a small town 25 miles to the north. She gave them the address, and my Dad and Frank took offVerdun is close to the German border. It had recently been liberated by the Allies, but was still being attacked by the Nazis.
Frank and my Dad made it to Verdun, and found Jacqueline at her uncle’s house. My Dad gave her the letter and the 5,000-franc note. She started crying. Then she packed a small bag, said goodbye to her uncle, and my Dad put her in the back of the jeep and covered her with a blanket. There were still clusters of German soldiers roaming about. My Dad and Frank took off, Frank driving, machine gun mounted between them, Jacqueline in the back, bouncing around under the blanket as the jeep flew down the small country roads.They stopped at a town called Metz to gas up at an American motor pool. The MPs warned them about groups of German soldiers. As they were getting ready to take off, Jacqueline poked her head out. The MPs saw her. Before they could react, Frank floored the jeep and drove like mad to Lunéville . They got there at midnight. Frank dropped off my Dad and Jacqueline at her house and took the jeep back.Jacqueline ran inside and there were tears and laughter and hugs and shrieks of joy. My Dad stood in the doorway. The one-armed Frenchman kept pumping his one good arm in the air, crying and screaming, “Merci, Philippe! Merci, Philippe!”GRILLED SALMON MARSALA AND GRILLED VEGETABLES
I was at my Dad’s house when I concocted this recipe. It was Memorial Day weekend. He lives on top of a mountain, in the Catskills of New York. It’s incredibly beautiful. It’s also incredibly isolated - which can make you crazy after a while. Just look at me.When my Dad first got the place, he wanted it to be rustic. And that it was. It was just a square, cinderblock two-story structure that looked more like a garage than a cabin. The ground floor was well, it was the ground. It was dirt. The second floor was unpainted plywood, and there was a gas stove up there, and that’s where I slept.The stove is what we used for heat. For the whole place. Keep in mind; it gets down to below zero in the winter. There’s snow on the ground from November until March. And there was no plumbing. None. There was an outhouse, and it was pretty scary; especially late at night, when you had to walk 50 yards through the snow to go to the bathroom. That’s the way my Dad wanted it. Rough. No frills. No phones. No TV.That didn’t last very long. The thought may have been romantic, but there’s nothing romantic about getting up in the morning and walking across the frozen tundra to go to the bathroom in what is really just a hole in the ground. A stinking hole.And now? My Dad has three bathrooms, all indoors. The one on the second floor has a claw-foot bathtub with a view of the mountains. He has a big screen hi-definition TV, a satellite dish that gets a thousand channels, and the whole house has wireless internet. He has a phone. He even has a cell phone now. Now my Dad is all plugged in, hooked up, and well connected, which is a good thing, especially during the brutal winter months.
Rat Tail Ridge is a great place to grill in the summer, when it’s cool and breezy on top of that mountain. You’ve got a beautiful view, quite breathtaking. Batu loves it up there.Note: the salmon steaks I used were about an inch and a half thick. Keep in mind that thicker pieces of salmon take longer, and thinner pieces take less time. Also, some grills run real hot, some not-so-hot. No wonder it took me so long to get this recipe right. But I finally nailed it.Also, trim your asparagus. Grab an asparagus spear. Hold the top end in between the forefinger and thumb of your left hand, and hold the bottom end with the thumb and forefinger of your right hand, and bend until it breaks. Throw away the stalk end.There are two kinds of Marsala—sweet and dry. Sweet is the way to go. Sweet!Ingredients:For the sauce1 cup sweet Marsala (a wine from Sicily) or sweet vermouth¼ cup extra virgin olive oil¼ cup fresh squeezed lemon juice (use ripe, soft lemons, or Meyer lemons—remove the seeds)1 tablespoon chopped fresh oregano, plus a couple sprigs for garnish (you can use a teaspoon of dried oregano if you can’t find fresh)2 cloves of garlicFor the salmon and vegetables4 salmon steaksA dozen small potatoes cut in half (I used purple potatoes–found them in a local market)A bunch of asparagus (16 or so), trimmed6 Roma tomatoes cut in half length-wiseExtra virgin olive oilKosher saltFresh ground black pepperA small bunch of fresh chivesA handful of fresh basil leaves1 tablespoon of balsamic vinegarHere we go…Add all the sauce ingredients (except the garlic) in a small bowl. Mix. Put the garlic in a garlic press, and squeeze it into the sauce—you can also mince the garlic if you don’t have a press. Put the sauce in a small pan over low heat, and let it reduce while you grill.Rinse off the salmon steaks, pat dry with paper towels, and drizzle both sides with olive oil. Then give a shake of salt and pepper on each side.Keep your vegetables on separate plates. Take the potatoes, drizzle with olive oil, add salt and pepper, and make sure they’re coated well. Do the same with the asparagus, and the tomatoes – but be gentle. Don’t mangle your ‘maters.Heat your grill up! We want it to be medium heat; if it’s too hot, things will burn.The potatoes take the longest, about 20 minutes. Put them on first, cook for 10 minutes (depending on the heat of the grill) and then turn ’em over.Put the asparagus and the salmon on the grill, and cook for about 5 minutes. After 5 minutes, turn over the asparagus and the salmon.Add the Roma tomatoes to the grill, flat side down.Cook the asparagus, salmon and tomatoes for 5 minutes. Don’t turn over the tomatoes!Remove everything to a gorgeous platter.Use a scissors and snip some fresh chives on top of the potatoes.Snip some fresh basil on the tomatoes.Drizzle a little balsamic vinegar on the asparagus.Dish it up! Put a salmon steak on a plate. Take the reduced Marsala sauce and drizzle some on top. Add some asparagus, potatoes, and tomatoes. Garnish with a fresh oregano sprig.MANGIAMO!!!!!