Slim Man Cooks Grilled Vegetable Pasta Salad

Grilled Vegetable Pasta and My Dad’s GardenMost Italians I know have a garden. I don’t know why; it just seems to be the case. My grandmother Angela had a small garden. My uncle Oscar had a garden. Or rather, he had someone build him a garden and maintain it. Oscar wasn’t a dig-in-the-dirt kinda guy. I don’t think he ever mowed a lawn in his adult life. He had people who did that kinda thing. But My Dad? Oscar’s only brother? He loved getting down in the dirt.I remember one spring my Dad wanted to build a vegetable garden. He lived in an apartment above a big barn on a farm in Long Island, New York. I used to drive up from Baltimore, Maryland, and visit him in his little place on the top floor. My Dad had painted all the walls different bright colors; purple, yellow, orange. For his dining-room table, he had found a huge old wood spool that the phone company had used for wrapping telephone wire. He laid it on its side, and that’s what we ate on. His kitchen table was an antique foot-operated sewing machine.There was a dog kennel in the barn downstairs, which was a lot of fun when the volunteer fire department sirens would go off in the middle of the night, and the dozen or so dogs would start caterwauling.Along with the dogs, there were also horses residing in the barn below. Well, it wasn’t like Smarty Jones or Seattle Slew were living there. This was a working barn, with working horses. And when you have horses, you usually have horse flies. So in the upstairs apartment my Dad put fly strips on the ceiling.In case you’ve never lived above a barn with horses and horse flies; fly strips are basically rolls of sticky paper that unravel and hang from the ceiling. When flies would fly by, they’d get stuck to the paper. Since the ceiling at my Dad’s apartment was slanted and low, whenever you walked by, the paper would stick to your hair. This wasn’t a problem for My Dad, who had no hair. But for us long-haired teens, it was a big problem.I had a hairdo that resembled all three guys in the Jimi Hendrix Experience put together. Whenever I walked by these fly strips, my hair would get stuck, and I’d have to call for my Dad to cut me loose. So there were all these fly strips hanging from the ceiling, with dead flies and clumps of hair stuck to them.The other thing you have when you have horses downstairs? Fertilizer, to put it politely. The apartment had a certain aroma that they rarely use in aromatherapy. With all that free fertilizer, my Dad decided to create his garden. He wanted to border the garden with railroad ties; so one day he borrowed a pickup truck, and we drove to a deserted area of the Long Island Railroad.My Dad couldn’t just go to the Home Depot and buy wood borders. He had to go find old railroad ties. He couldn’t just go to a furniture store and buy a dining-room table, he had to go find a big old wood spool. He couldn’t buy a kitchen table at IKEA, he had to use an old sewing machine. He couldn’t just find a normal place to live, he had to find a place on top of a barn with a kennel and horses and ceilings that were so slanted that you had to walk around crouched over like Groucho Marx or Quasimodo.My Dad had it in his head to find railroad ties to border his garden. We found a stack by the side of some abandoned railroad tracks. The railroad ties smelled like creosote, and weighed what seemed like a ton. We put the back gate of the pickup truck down. We were able, the two of us, to get one railroad tie onto the bed of the pickup truck. The only problem was - the railroad tie was hanging off the back of the pickup.We drove off and when my Dad went over a bump, the end of the railroad tie closest to the cab of the truck would rise in the air, and the other end that was hanging off the back of the truck would hit the ground. It was like a see-saw. A dangerous see-saw. My Dad pulled the truck over.Then he had a brilliant idea. He wanted me to get out of the truck and stand on the end of the railroad tie that was close to the cab, using what little weight I had to keep the railroad tie from flying up in the air. He told me to hang on to the roof of the truck for stability. Brilliant.My Dad was a tough and gruff guy, an Italian who started off really poor, grew up on the streets of New York, and forged quite a life for himself. He was a lawyer. He worked for the Equal Employment Opportunity Commission. He wrote speeches for Vice President Hubert Humphrey. He helped start the Peace Corps. He was a professor of philosophy and literature at the State University of New York in Old Westbury, which was about 15 miles from the barn.My Dad yelled a lot. He laughed a lot, too, but he had a temper. I found it hard to say “no” to to my Dad; so I got out of the truck and stood on the end of the railroad tie, facing forward, holding on to the roof of the cab for dear life. The first bump we hit, I shot into the air like a rocket. It seems kinda funny now. It wasn’t real funny to me back then. I was terrified.That’s when I thought it might be best to prop up one end of the railroad tie on top of the cab of the pickup, and close the back gate to hold the other end inside the bed. And that’s the way we rolled. We ended up getting four railroad ties, and made a huge square outside of the barn. We shoveled horseshit for hours from the barn into the garden.That garden was incredible. We had Brussel sprouts the size of cabbages. Everything grew to amazing proportions and tasted incredibly fresh and delightful. When I think of vegetables, I always think of that garden. And how I almost died to get it built.GRILLED VEGETABLE PASTA SALADI like to grill. I like pasta. I like vegetables. So - I thought - why not combine all three? That’s when I came up with this recipe. I put the “j” back in genius with this dish. You’ll want to serve it at room temperature, but add the mozzarella balls when the pasta is hot, so the balls get gooey, so to speak. Fusilli pasta works best.I cut the onion into large slices, and the orange bell peppers, too, because they’re easier to grill and flip that way. When they’re done, I chop ‘em up into smaller, bite-size pieces. Also, the cherry tomatoes only need about five minutes on the grill, just to heat ‘em up.Serves four; or one teenage kid who’s been shoveling horseshit in the sun for hours.IngredientsA bulb of garlic, the root end cut offExtra virgin olive oil1 small zucchini, scrubbed, ends snipped off, sliced in circular slices1 small yellow summer squash, prepared the same way1 small eggplant, prepared the same way2 orange bell peppers, stems and seeds removed, cut in large slices1 Vidalia onion (or any sweet onion except purple/Spanish), sliced into large circular slices2 dozen cherry tomatoesA dozen small balls of mozzarella½ cup pignoli (pine nuts), toasted to a golden brown in a dry pan over medium heat — you can also use sliced almonds, toasted the same wayBasil leaves, a large handful (a cup) – save a few whole leaves for garnish1 tablespoon of balsamic vinegar1 pound of fusilli pastaFreshly grated Parmigiano-Reggiano cheeseSalt and freshly ground pepperNon-stick cooking spray (optional)Here we go…Make sure your grill surface is clean. A little non-stick cooking spray on the grill surface will help keep your vegetables from sticking. Be careful! Don’t spray it into the fire.If you’re using a charcoal grill, light the coals, and let them burn for 20 to 30 minutes, or until the coals are ash-gray. You don’t want the fire to be too hot, or you just end up burning the vegetables. If you’re using a gas grill, put the heat on medium.Take the bulb of garlic. Slice the root end off. Put the whole garlic bulb on top of a piece of aluminum foil. Drizzle it with olive oil, about a teaspoon. Wrap it up, and put it on the outside part of the grill – the place with the least heat – and let it slow-roast for the whole time you’re grilling.For the pasta, get a large pot, fill it with water, and let it come to a boil.Now for the vegetables. Put them all on a large platter. Drizzle with olive oil, about a tablespoon, make sure they’re all lightly coated. Sprinkle with a little salt and fresh cracked black pepper. Then flip ‘em over and do the same on the other side – drizzle with a little olive oil, and sprinkle with a little salt and pepper.Put all the vegetables on the grill, except the tomatoes. Let everything grill for about 5 to 7 minutes, depending on the heat of your grill, then turn ‘em over.Put the tomatoes on the outside of the grill. Grill all your vegetables for another 5 to 7 minutes.Remove the vegetables from the grill, and place them on a large platter. Cut the onion and the orange bell peppers into bite size pieces.For the pasta, when the water is a-boiling, add a few tablespoons of kosher salt, and then add a pound of fusilli. Follow the directions on the box. Two minutes before the pasta is supposed to be done, start tasting. Bite through a piece of pasta, look at the center. If it is chalky, it is not done. Keep tasting every 2 minutes until it tastes right, not too chewy. When the fusilli is al dente (firm to the bite) drain, put it in a large bowl and drizzle with a tablespoon olive oil, and toss.Take your garlic bulb out of the aluminum foil, make sure it’s cool enough to touch, and grab the bulb by the top. Squeeze the cloves out through the bottom, right onto the pasta. Mick ‘em up.Add your grilled vegetables, give them a stir.Add your mozzarella balls and toss gently.Add the toasted pignoli – save some for sprinkling on to each plate.Take the basil leaves (save a few for each plate for garnish), and snip ‘em with scissors into small pieces right onto the pasta. Toss gently.Add a little more olive oil if you like and toss again - gently.Add the balsamic vinegar (about a tablespoon or so to taste) and toss once more.Dish it up! Make it look nice! On each plate, add a couple basil leaves, sprinkle a few toasted pignoli on top, and add a little freshly grated Parmigiano-Reggiano cheese on top, if you like. And…MANGIAMO!!!

Shrimp, Scallop and Vegetable Kabobs with Sherry Sauce

Shrimp and Scallop Kabobs with Mack and Myer’sMight have fun, might not.That was the sign outside Mack and Myer’s nightclub in Essex, Maryland.My band, BootCamp, was the house band at Mack and Myer’s. In the music binniz, that means we played there almost every night. It was the ‘80s. The 1980s, not the 1880s.Essex is a town outside Baltimore with a bad reputation; I’ve always liked the place. It has a singular charm. People in Baltimore make fun of people in Essex. Why? Maybe it’s because it’s on a river that has two, well, poop-processing plants right in the middle of the water. They look like two huge silver breasts, side by side, floating in the water, pointing to the sky.They let off a stench that is hard to ignore. A HazMat suit or a gas mask might be in order while near that body of water. The river is named Back River. There is a bridge over those troubled waters, and right across that bridge was a club called Mack and Myer’s.The club was owned by Dave Hutchinson. Dave was a cool guy; smart, funny and hip. He was one of those guys who was in the know, but a little offbeat. Dave embraced Essex and all its lowdown uniqueness. His brother was an elected official, an important executive for Baltimore County. My guess is that Dave was the black sheep.When you walked inside Mack and Myer’s, there were all kinds of strange things hanging from the ceiling. Old wooden chairs. Trombones. Guitars. Old street signs. All kinds of junk, suspended by wires and string, hanging from the ceiling — which was only a few feet overhead. Mismatched Christmas lights were strung everywhere.There was a jukebox in the corner. A real old-time jukebox. Dave had it stocked with every funny crazy old single ever released.   "Yakkity Yak (Don’t Talk Back)". "Along Came John". "Sixteen Tons". The jukebox also had songs like "Paper Doll' by the Mills Brothers.I loved the jukebox. I loved Mack and Myer’s. I loved Dave. And I loved Sophie.Sophie was the waitress. She had a bee-hive hairdo of red hair that was so thick and lacquered with Aqua Net that you could have bounced bowling balls off her hair without so much as a dent. She had a thick Baltimore accent and called everybody “Hon.”She was darling. Her favorite song was “Do You Think I’m Sexy” by Rod Stewart; so the BootCamp Boys learned the song. Whenever we did the song, Sophie would get up on stage and dance the hootchie-cootchie dance and sing off-key.It was precious. She was precious. There was a band room in the back. One night, before a show, Sophie — a divorced cocktail waitress who lived down the street — ran her hands through my hair as I sat in a chair in front of her. The guys in the band were getting ready to go on.Sophie said, in that lovely Baltimore accent, “Your hair is just like the hair on my *****, Hon! If I didn’t trim it, it would grow down to my knees!”Forgive the language, but that’s the way she talked. That was so Sophie.Mack and Myer’s was funky. It was eclectic. It was a crazy mixture of people — black, white, rich, poor, gay, straight, intellectuals and blue-collars — who were all in on what seemed like an inside joke. Members of a crazy secret club.It was a three-ring circus. Dave was Ringmaster. He called me “Boot.” As in BootCamp.“Hey, Boot!” he’d scream across the club.BootCamp started getting popular. Mack and Myer’s was packed every night. It went on like that for months and months.Then we got an offer to spend the summer as a house band in a club that was on the beach - IN THE HAMPTONS. New York. Long Island. Movie stars. Seaside mansions.In the spring, we left Mack and Myer’s. We left Essex, Maryland. We left Back River and the Poop Processors. We left Dave. We left Sophie.We bought an old beat-up, yellow bread truck. No radio, no AC. We filled it with all our suitcases and equipment and we drove up the New Jersey Turnpike to the Hamptons. It turned out to be the craziest summer of my life. Everyone has one. That was mine.The club was called Neptune Beach Club. We played six nights a week until 4 AM and did double shifts on Saturdays and Sundays. After all those hours on stage, BootCamp was getting pretty good.When the summer ended, we drove back down the Jersey Turnpike in our yellow, beat-up bread truck; tanned and dead-tired. A peculiar stench told us we were getting close to Back River. We crossed the bridge and saw the Mack and Myer’s “Might Have Fun, Might Not” sign. The Boys Are Back!Dave was outside waiting, beaming like a proud poppa.We got out of the bread truck and Dave led us inside. He had us close our eyes. When we opened our eyes, we saw a huge sign, about 6 feet tall and 12 feet long, with big black letters on a white background. The sign took up the whole wall. It said:NEW YORK CITYDave looked at us and said, “Whaddya think?”We had no idea what the sign was about. That’s when Dave told us he’d re-named the band. Instead of being called “BootCamp” we were now -NEW YORK CITYWe explained to Dave - we’d been playing all summer in New York as BootCamp, we had videos on MTV, labels were interested, managers were calling, and a name change might not be the best idea in the world. We kept our name.Dave kept the sign up anyway. We kept playing Mack and Myer’s, but not quite as often as we used to. It was still packed whenever we played; but we were starting to get lots of other gigs.We were opening for Split Enz and Squeeze and the B-52s. We started playing other clubs, drawing 500 people on Monday and Tuesday nights. We were doing showcases in Manhattan for major labels.It was time to move on. Dave knew it. We knew it. We said a sad goodbye to Sophie, Dave, Mack and Myer’s, Back River and the Poop Processors. We crossed that bridge and took off for the Big Time.BootCamp never quite hit the Big Time. For about five years, we came as close as you can come; we were constantly on the brink, but never quite hit the Big Time. But we had a great time trying.A few years later, I was at the airport in Baltimore. I had just flown in from a Slim Man gig. Things were going well. It was late at night, and there weren’t a lot of folks around. I was facing the baggage carousel when somebody tackled me from behind.We fell to the ground. The guy had me in a bear hug. We started rolling around.“Boot!!!”Dave. Scared the shit out of me. We got up, and Dave smiled at me. He was a tall, burly guy, with a beard, curly sandy hair, laughing eyes and a distinguished voice.He thanked me. He thanked me for the good times. He thanked me for the money I’d made him. He told me Mack and Myer’s did so well while BootCamp was there, that he was able to relax for quite a while. Then he gave me a hug.Might Have Fun, Might Not.We had fun.A ton of fun.GRILLED SCALLOPS AND SHRIMP KABOBS WITH VEGETABLESWhen you make this dish, make sure your scallops and shrimp are not from Back River.I love grillin’. I love chillin’. This is one of my favorite grill dishes because there’s not a lot of fuss. You know what I don’t like about grillin’? When the food you’re grillin’ falls through the grill and onto the charcoals. That’s why I like kabobs. When you put your food on skewers, not only do you keep things from falling onto the charcoal, but they’re a lot easier to turn over.If you’re using bamboo skewers, soak them for in water for 30 minutes or more. If you don’t they’ll catch fire and burn down the trailer park.I skewered the vegetables on one set of skewers and the seafood kabobs on another. Why? Because the vegetables take longer. Also, when grilling, a little non-stick cooking spray (or olive oil spray) helps a lot. Spray your kabobs lightly before grilling.Note for my peeps - there are two kinds of sea scallops, dry and wet. Use dry scallops. Wet scallops are soaked in who-knows-what, and throw off a lot of liquid when cooking. I don’t use wet scallops. Ever. Ask your fish dude – he’ll know whether the scallops are wet or dry. Use the dry ones. Make sure you remove the small side muscle from the scallops. It’s about the size of a postage stamp, just peel the side muscle off, it should come off easily.Ingredients8 large shrimp, de-shelled and de-veined8 sea scallops¾ cup cream sherry (you can use sweet Marsala or port as a substitute)¼ cup extra virgin olive oil1 tablespoon each of fresh grated ginger, fresh minced garlic, fresh chopped thyme (or dried thyme)Some hot sauce, baby this evening½ Spanish onion1 yellow bell pepper8 cherry tomatoesSalt and pepperHere we go…Rinse off the shrimp and pat dry with paper towels. Rinse off the scallops and pat dry with paper towels until the towels no longer get damp.For the marinadeCombine the sherry, the olive oil, the ginger, garlic, thyme and hot sauce (to taste). Add salt and pepper to taste and mix ‘em up. Let it sit for a while.For the vegetable kabobsCut the Spanish onion and the yellow bell pepper (remove the stems and seeds) into pieces that are about the same size as your cherry tomatoes.Take a piece of onion, put it on the skewer, followed by a cherry tomato and a piece of yellow bell pepper. Then add another piece of onion, a tomato, a piece of pepper. Your skewer should be full. Make 4 skewers.For the seafood kabobsTake a shrimp. Pierce it with a skewer, going through the bottom of the shrimp, and then through the top. Then add a scallop—pierce it through the side. Add another shrimp. Then a scallop. That’s 1 skewer—2 shrimp and 2 scallops.Make 4 skewers. Put the seafood and vegetable skewers in a large baking dish, and drizzle the marinade over them. Refrigerate for an hour or so.Heat up the grill! Set the heat to medium, and when the grill is nice and warm, add the 4 vegetable kabobs. Cook for 5 to 7 minutes, and then turn.Put the seafood kabobs on the grill.Now, while the seafood kabobs cook, pour the leftover marinade from the baking dish into a small sauté pan and reduce over medium-low heat while the kabobs cook.When the seafood kabobs have cooked for 3 to 4 minutes, turn over. Cook for another 3 or 4 more minutes, until done. The seafood and the vegetable kabobs should be done around the same time. Remove to a platter, drizzle with the reduced marinade, and...MANGIAMO!!!!!!!

Slim Man Cooks a Fritatta

Frittata with Jimi Hendrix

I’d heard Hendrix was coming to town, so I bought two tickets. They were $6.50 apiece.On the day of the Big Show, my friend Jeffe and I — his real name was Jeff, my Mom gave him his nickname — caught the #44 bus from Homeland and headed to downtown Baltimore. We were too young to drive, but old enough to hop a bus downtown.We lived in Govans. It was a working-class neighborhood right next to Homeland, which was where the wealthy folks lived. There was a fence at the end of our dead-end street — Rosebank Avenue — that separated the two.I would cross that fence into Homeland and take the #44 bus downtown to see shows at the Civic Center. At that time of day — in the evening — almost everybody on the bus was black, mostly women who cleaned houses in Homeland, all catching the bus back downtown.The bus stopped right in front of the Civic Center. Jeffe and I got off, and walked to the entrance.I wanted to be first in line. And I was. Jeffe and I waited until the doors opened, and I told him,“We’re walking right on stage. Act like you own the place. If anybody asks, we’re with the light crew.”I walked right up to the stage, strolled up the steps, and five seconds later, I’m backstage, standing next to Mitch Mitchell, Hendrix’s drummer. He was trying to fix his bass drum pedal. He asked me if I’d hold the flashlight.There I was, holding a flashlight in my shaking hands, trying to help Mitch Mitchell fix his drums.He fixed his pedal, I gave him back the flashlight, and I went to the side of the stage and waited for the opening band to start. I felt like I was in some wonderful dream. It didn’t seem real.The first time I heard Jimi Hendrix was when Rob Grant brought the Are You Experienced? album down to My Mom’s house. We both lived on the same street, Rosebank Avenue. Rob played guitar, and he brought down this new album of this incredible guitar player, Jimi Hendrix.I couldn’t believe my ears. It sounded like music from Mars. I kept staring at the album cover. Hendrix looked like – well like nobody I’d ever seen before, not just him but his whole band. I thought they were the coolest-looking, coolest-sounding band I’d ever heard. His guitar playing was unbelievable.It was one of the reasons I took up the bass. When I heard Hendrix play guitar, I figured maybe I ought to play bass — there are less strings and, after all, how could I ever play like Hendrix?Now here I was, backstage at the Baltimore Civic Center, waiting for Hendrix to play. A band called Cactus opened. Tim Bogert was on bass — he’d played with Vanilla Fudge. Carmine Appice played drums — he’d been with Jeff Beck. And the guitar player?It was Jim McCarty, a blues guitarist who’d played with both Mitch Ryder and Buddy Miles.When Cactus started playing, I was behind the huge red velvet curtain. I was standing on the side of the stage. Jeffe was on the other side of the stage. We could see each other. The sold-out crowd couldn’t see us, but we could see them. Cactus started playing.I felt a tap on my shoulder.I heard a voice say, “This guy’s pretty good.”I turned my head. It was Jimi Hendrix. I was amazed. I was just hiding out on the side of the stage hoping security wouldn’t take me away in handcuffs, and here I am, standing next to Hendrix.We stood shoulder to shoulder for twenty minutes, watching Jim McCarty play guitar with Cactus.I didn’t say a word. I couldn’t speak. Jeffe was on the other side of the stage, going nuts. Pointing his finger. Making animated faces.All I did was stand there, trying to be cool, with Hendrix at my side.Cactus finished and Hendrix went on stage. Billy Cox was on bass and Mitch Mitchell on drums. There is some footage on YouTube of the concert, and Hendrix’s guitar-playing is jaw-dropping, show-stopping, some-kinda-wonderful.The date was June 13, 1970. Hendrix played his heart out. I saw the whole show from 10 yards away.It wasn’t the first time I’d seen Jimi Hendrix. The first time was also at the Baltimore Civic Center; May, 16, 1969. Noel Redding played bass, Mitch Mitchell played drums. That show was incredible, too. It was an amazing time for music.How amazing? Nine days later, I went to Merriweather Post Pavilion, an outdoor venue outside of Baltimore. Merriweather was designed by Frank Gehry, it is a natural amphitheater, with a stage and seats at the bottom, and a large lawn up top, where you can lay on a blanket and watch the show down below. I had seen the Doors there. I had seen Frank Sinatra there. But on May 25, 1969, I was there to see Led Zeppelin.They were opening for The Who. I loved both bands.It was the only time Led Zeppelin and the Who appeared on stage together. What an incredible evening, sitting on the lawn in late spring, listening to two bands that would make musical history.Here’s the crazy thing. Last year, I was at a funky little grocery store in a funky part of Nashville and I saw Robert Plant, the lead singer for Led Zeppelin, in line. He had a 12-pack of Miller High Life beer behind him — although I’m not sure it was his.Nobody recognized him. I did. I had to say something.I walked up to him and said, “I saw you do a concert with the Who in Baltimore back in 1969.”Robert Plant looked at me and said, “I remember that show. I didn’t want to do it.”“Why not?”“I always thought we were better than they were.”“Well, I’m glad you did that show. It changed my life.”And then I snapped a photo.Those two shows in 1969 did change my life. Those nine days in May had a monstrous musical impact on a young knucklehead like me.FRITTATAIf you ever want a wonderful breakfast after a big rock concert, don’t ask me to cook. I’m not very good with breakfast. I’ve messed up simple fried eggs. I’ve mangled pancakes. I’ve even screwed up oatmeal. All on a regular basis. So you know what I eat almost every morning?Fruit.That’s right, fruit. I try to eat nothing but fruit until noon. The key to this plan is to sleep until 12:30.But really, fruit is what I eat all morning. I like bananas. Old people with no teeth can eat bananas. Little kids with no teeth can eat bananas. They’re easy on the stomach. They come with their own wrapper. They’re cheap. They’re around all year. And they’re almost always good. You can spot a bad banana a mile away.I mean, sometimes with apples you get what you think is a good one, and it ends up tasting like mush. And cantaloupes? A crap shoot. Mangoes? Good luck.I like kiwi fruit. They’re weird, but cool. I like berries. Come to think of it, there’s not a fruit I don’t like, although pomegranates can be a little difficult. But I love their juice!I’m really good at making frittatas. A frittata is like an omelette, except it isn’t folded. You can stick anything in a frittata, just like an omelette – onion, peppers, cheese – but you know what I like to do?I take leftovers and beat them in with the eggs. For instance, when I cook my famous fish dish, Salmon Ella (inspired while listening to Ella Fitzgerald), I use the leftovers the next day in my frittata (my recipe is on page XX). I once used leftover asparagus and leftover scalloped potatoes in a frittata. It was incredible.For this recipe, I used some leftover farfalle pasta with cauliflower and bread crumbs. It was delizioso. The key to frittatas? Cook ’em low and slow on the stovetop, then slip ’em under the broiler for a minute to make the top to golden brown. The toughest part of cooking a frittata? Getting it out of the pan. I’ll tell you how.It is best to use a pan that has an oven-proof handle, so it won’t melt when you put the frittata under the broiler. You can also slide the frittata out of the pan onto an oven-proof plate, and broil it that way.Here goes…Serves four (unless you’re living with teenagers, in which case this serves one)Ingredients8 eggs1 cup freshly grated Parmigiano-Reggiano cheeseAbout 2 cups of leftover pasta (or salmon, or risotto, or…)2 tablespoons butterFresh ground black pepper and kosher salt to taste.Let’s Do It!Break the eggs in a large bowl. Add the cheese. Mix’em up.Add the leftover pasta, or leftover whatever, and mix’em up. Add salt and pepper.Put a large pan on medium heat. Add 2 tablespoons of butter.When the butter melts, add the eggs/cheese/leftover mixture.Smooth it out on top; you don’t want a lumpy frittata!Turn the heat to low, and let it cook for about 15 to 18 minutes. The top might be a little jiggly, but the rest should be firm. If it isn’t, cook it until it is.Next, set the broiler on high, and put the frittata under the broiler for a minute or two. We want it to be golden on top. Keep your eyes on it!Once golden, remove the pan from the broiler and let it cool for a minute or two.Take a spatula, and loosen the sides of the frittata from the pan. Slide it onto a platter.If you have a hard time getting the frigate out of the pan, take a large plate/platter, one that fits over the pan like a lid. Place it over top of the pan, and flip the pan over!The frittata will come out of the pan, and onto the plate.The only problem is the brown/bottom side is now up, and the pretty side is facedown.So, take another plate/platter the same size, put it on top of the plate with the frittata.Flip it over, and there you go! Pretty side up!Dish it up!MANGIAMO!

Grilled Salmon with Marsala and Merci, Philipe!

Grilled Salmon Marsala with Grilled Vegetables in World War II

My Dad told me that when his platoon was going across France behind General Patton in World War II, the towns they liberated were really grateful.  How grateful?In one town, as they went past an exuberant, cheering crowd, a woman grabbed my Dad, dragged him into her bedroom and made love to him right then and there.Now that’s gratitude.Before the war, my Dad was drifting.  He went to St. John’s College in Annapolis, Maryland.  He wasn’t a good student.  They put him in charge of the college café.  He took some money out of the coffers, and in a valiant effort to try and double the cash, lost it all in a late-night poker game. He was asked to leave the school.Soon after, he joined the Army and went to Europe to fight in World War II. It was a hellish and brutal experience that made my Dad a man. His father, Romollo, died of a heart attack while my father was away at war. They were close; he couldn’t go back for the funeral. It was one of the loneliest times of my Dad’s life.After the war, he went back to St. John’s.  He became a good student.  He graduated.  He went to law school.  He became a lawyer.  He did all of this with no money — he was the son of poor Italian immigrants.He became a member of the U.S. Commission on Civil Rights.  He helped start the Peace Corps.  He wrote speeches for Vice President Hubert Humphrey.  He became a professor of philosophy and literature.World War II, the toughest time of his life, turned out to be his proudest moment, the turning point that changed his life in the best way possible.My Dad was in the XVth Corps; they followed General Patton’s 3^rd 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 VEGETABLESI 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!!!!!   

Pasta with Shrimp, Spinach and Sun-Dried Tomatoes

Pasta with Shrimp, Sun Dried Tomatoes and Momma MaxMy first band was called Momma Max. We were a punk-rock band, although they hadn’t come up with that phrase yet. We did a lot of original material, and some covers—mostly songs by our favorite band, The Stooges.Not Larry, Moe and Curly. Iggy Pop and the Stooges. "Now I Wanna Be Your Dog." "Down On The Street."Momma Max played a lot at a club called the Bluesette, which was on Charles Street in Baltimore, Maryland. It was a club that didn’t admit anyone over the age of 21. Imagine that. The kids that hung out in the club were the kids who didn’t fit anywhere else.No wonder I felt so comfortable there.Hippies, rock stars, black radicals, black hippies, runaways, dropouts, gays, musicians, artists—it was a crazy mix of young people who found a place to hang in a town where there was nowhere else for kids like that to go.And Momma Max was one of the bands that played the Bluesette. We also played high school dances, festivals and concerts; but the Bluesette was our hang.I lived on a dead-end street named Rosebank. There was a kid up the street who played guitar — Rob Grant. A friend of his, Brian Cain, played drums, and the three of us started jamming in my Mom’s basement.My childhood was great. Up until the age of 15, things could not have been better. I loved school, had great grades, was president of the class, teacher’s pet; loved my neighborhood, rode bikes, had fun, loved my family, played music.Then all hell broke loose.My folks divorced; the three kids stayed in Baltimore with my Mom, and my Dad moved back to New York. My cousin – we were really close – died in a car accident. High school was a veritable hell; I didn’t fit in anywhere, so I started a band. It was the outlet for my teenage rage. We wrote a lot of angry, aggressive songs.My Dad had a dog named Momma Max, and I thought it would be a great name for the band. We started playing and word got out.Word of mouth was the way most kids heard about music. Iggy Pop wasn’t on the cover of People magazine. Led Zeppelin wasn’t on the Tonight Show. Kids found out about music from other kids. And when word got out about Momma Max, it spread like wildfire. We started selling out shows.There was a club outside of Baltimore called the Latin Casino. It was owned by some Greeks, who owned most of the nightclubs in Baltimore. The Latin Casino brought in big-name acts, and when they needed a band to open up for Iggy Pop and the Stooges, they called Momma Max. It was a perfect fit. We were ecstatic.We played our hearts out that night. Then we watched the Stooges from the side of the stage.Iggy Pop was in full effect — he came out shirtless, and sang and danced and broke glasses on the floor and crawled around the stage on his bare stomach.It was an incredibly exciting show. The Stooges did a live recording that night in ’73 – I found a copy on the Internet. Momma Max was not included! But we did get a couple more gigs out of that show. The Greeks liked us.When we got an offer to open up for the Raspberries at the Latin Casino, we were a little apprehensive, but we took the gig. The Raspberries were a power pop band, with matching suits and hairdos you could bounce rocks off of. Momma Max was a rough and tumble punk rock trio. Momma Max and the Raspberries?We took the gig. We needed the money! I brought a date, something I rarely did. She wasn’t a girlfriend, but she was beautiful and sexy and I wouldn’t have minded having her as my girlfriend.Momma Max opened the show. People didn’t throw rocks at us, but the response was underwhelming.Then The Raspberries came out and did their show.I wasn’t too impressed, but they must have made quite an impression on the girl I brought, because at the end of the night, I saw her walking out the back door with the lead singer, Eric Carmen.Welcome to the glamorous life of Show Binniz.Momma Max played around Baltimore for a while after that. The drummer brought in his girlfriend to sing. She was good, but I wasn’t ready to share the lead vocals. Maybe we should have tried the Sonny and Cher thing. Momma Max broke up not long after that.I’ve kept in touch with that girl singer. Her name is Kathy McCabe. We’ve become really good friends. She’s pretty amazing.How amazing? She just produced an incredible documentary about Freda, the Beatles' secretary. The film is called Good Ol’ Freda, and I saw it at the Nashville Film Festival last year. Kathy introduced the film to the crowd. Freda was the Beatles’ assistant from the very beginning until the bitter end. Her story is fascinating, and Kathy did a wonderful job capturing that story.After the movie, Kathy and I had a chance to hang out in Nashville, eat some hot chicken, and catch up on all of the crazy things that have been happening in our lives, We started off years ago in this crazy punk band in Baltimore, Maryland, and now here we are in Nashville; she’s making movies and I’m still making music. Momma Max had run its course. But the friendships that were made endured and matured. I haven’t matured, but the friendships have. PASTA WITH SHRIMP AND SUN-DRIED TOMATOESThere’s nothing like a dish of pasta after a night of punk-rocking and mosh-pitting.A couple of things to mention here. I don’t use farm-raised shrimp. They taste funny and have the consistency of wet cardboard. Use wild shrimp. As wild as you can get ‘em!You can de-shell and de-vein your own shrimp. It’s easy — remove the shell, make a split down the spine, remove the dark vein, and rinse. You can also buy shrimp that have already been de-shelled and de-veined.I use sun-dried tomatoes in oil. The dry ones soak up too much sauce.A note about pasta…I recently cooked a pound of DeCecco spaghetti (number 12) over the highest heat I had. The directions on the box said to cook it for 10 to 12 minutes. It took 16 minutes. Start tasting your pasta a few minutes before it’s supposed to be done, and keep tasting it every 2 minutes until it’s al dente, firm to the bite.Let’s start cooking!Ingredients:1 pound large shrimp, de-shelled and de-veined3 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil5 cloves garlic, sliced thin, about 2 tablespoonsCrushed red pepper (I start off with ¼  teaspoon)¼ cup dry white wine½ lemon (2 generous tablespoons of fresh-squeezed lemon juice)3/4 cup sun-dried tomatoes cut into small strips3 cups baby spinach1 pound of pasta; spaghetti or linguineKosher saltHere we go…Rinse off the shrimp and pat them dry with paper towels.Let’s get the pasta water started. Get a large pot, fill it with cold water, and put it on high heat. As the water starts to heat up, let’s make our sauce.Put a large sauté pan over medium-low heat. Add the olive oil. Let it heat for 2 minutes, then add the sliced garlic and some crushed red pepper. Let the garlic cook for 2 or 3 minutes, until pale gold.Add the white wine, turn the heat to high. Let it cook off for 2 minutes. Turn the heat back down to medium-low. Add the shrimp. Sprinkle a little kosher salt on top, and let the shrimp cook for 3 minutes, then turn them over.Add the sun-dried tomatoes; place them in between the shrimp.Take the half of a lemon, and squeeze the juice through your fingers over the shrimp, making sure no seeds get into your sauce. You don’t want Aunt Esmerelda busting her dentures on a lemon seed.Add the spinach. As the spinach cooks down, use a wooden spoon to mix it in between the shrimp. Let it cook for 2 minutes or so until wilted, and remove from the heat. Taste for salt and adjust.When the pasta water comes to a boil, add 2 tablespoons of kosher salt, and the pound of pasta. Follow the directions on the box. Two minutes before the pasta is supposed to be done, take a piece and give it a bite. It should be firm, not chalky or too chewy. If it’s not done, cook and check every 2 minutes until it is al dente, firm to the bite, and drain in a colander.Put the pasta in a large bowl, and drizzle it with a tablespoon of olive oil, and give it a gentle toss.Add half the sauce to the pasta. Gently mix the sauce into the pasta.Dish it up! Add a little bit of extra sauce on top of each plate.One of my Exes loved to put grated Parmigiano cheese on this dish. I was going to say something to her about how in Italy they don’t put cheese on seafood, but I just grated the cheese and kept my mouth shut.Like my Dad used to say, “Nobody gets in trouble by keeping their mouth shut.”MANGIAMO!!!!!!

Slim Man Cooks Seared Scallops with Rosemary

After BootCamp broke up, I decided to circle the wagons.  So I gathered up the mules and the Conestogas, and sat by the campfire, trying to figure out my next move. One night, after getting kicked in the head by one of the jackasses, I came to the realization that I needed to go back into the studio and start writing and recording again.So that’s what I did. Monday through Thursday, from 10 AM until 3 PM, I wrote songs. The studio was owned by Rick O’Rick, AKA Cowboy Pickles; it was right outside of Washington, DC.I’d leave Baltimore at 9 AM, drive an hour to the studio, write and record for five hours, then drive back.At night, I was singing in piano bars.  I had decided to learn all my favorite songs, to find out what made them work.  From Sinatra to Elvis to Motown, I studied and learned every hit song I ever loved.  I would sing these songs and play piano at restaurants in and around Baltimore, Maryland. I also had a blues band — The Scrappy Harris Blues Band.  We played every Wednesday night at a dive bar called The Horse You Came In On.That was my Life After BootCamp.  I played piano bar.  I played the blues.  I wrote songs--all kinds of songs.I wrote a rock song and needed a singer for the demo.  Someone had mentioned the name Brian Jack.  I looked him up.  He was in a band called Child’s Play.  They had released an album on a major label, and had just broken up after being dropped.  I reached out to Brian and asked him to sing one of my songs.I picked him up — he didn’t have a car – and drove him to the studio.  He walked in, opened his mouth and sang that song like he’d sung it a hundred times.  It was magic.  Everyone who heard the song loved it, and loved his voice – he sounded like Bryan Adams meets Rod Stewart.I continued writing songs with Brian in mind.  I’d write a song.  I’d get everything done - all the guitars, keyboards, bass, backing vocals, horns, everything.  I’d go pick up Brian, drive him to the studio, and he would sing, as I guided him along.  It took us an hour a song – at most – to do the vocals.That’s the way it got started.  We became the best of friends.I wrote.  I produced.  Brian sang. He had an amazing voice.After about a year, when I had 12 songs finished, I suggested we put out a CD.  I borrowed some money to get the CDs made. Rick O’Rick and I took care of the studio bill. Brian did the artwork. He sent it off to the manufacturer. When we got the CDs back, I was pretty shocked when I read the back cover…All songs written by Brian Jack and Tim Camp.Dayuummm, son! Ain't that a kick in the head! Brian hadn’t written one word, hadn’t written one note of music.  When I asked him why he listed himself as songwriter on the credits, he said,“I always wanted to be a songwriter.”I suggested that he might start by writing his own songs, not by putting his name on mine. There was no way I could afford to get the credits changed. Not on this batch of CDs. I figured I’d correct the songwriting credits if we re-ordered more.The CD took off like a rocket.  We were getting airplay on the big rock station in Baltimore.  Lots of airplay.  Brian put together a band.  He asked me to play keyboards. I didn’t want to.  I had just finished the BootCamp saga, and I was in no hurry to play in a rock band again.  But Jackson — that’s what I called him — insisted.  I started playing keyboards in his live show.He was packing 1,000 seat clubs.  Jackson put together an incredible show.  At one club called Hammerjacks, he hung a rope from the ceiling, which was 20 feet high.  He would swing from the stage up into the balcony, hold the railing, sing a few notes, and then swing back on stage.He was like Tarzan, bare-foot and bare-chested, swinging from the rafters, screaming at the top of his lungs.   He was selling out wherever he went.  He had a great voice, along with charm, looks, charisma and stage presence.And he had incredible hair, which is the most important thing in the music binniz.I started calling some folks I knew in the music business.  I hooked Brian up with my attorney – who’s also my close friend – who hooked Brian up with a manager, Dee Anthony.  Dee came out to a show.  He loved it.Dee Anthony started off as a road manager for Tony Bennett.  Dee went on to manage Peter Frampton, J. Geils, Devo, and Basia, among others.  His daughter, Michelle, was a bigwig at SONY/Epic.Brian signed with Dee.  Dee signed Brian to SONY/Epic.  Frankie LaRocca was hired to produce — he had just come off a big hit with the Spin Doctors.  The future looked mighty bright.When it came time for Brian to record his CD for Epic, I found out that none of my songs would be included. Dee was under the impression that Brian had co-written all of the songs we had recorded.  Dee then set Brian up to write all new songs with other big-name writers.  I was out. Like Tom Hagen in The Godfather, I was out.Epic rented the finest studios, hired big-name musicians.  When they heard the first batch of new songs, they didn’t like them.  Epic decided to abandon ship.  After spending $40,000 they dropped Brian.  He hadn’t even finished half the CD.I didn’t see Brian much after the Epic disaster. I went back into the studio by myself and started writing again.  I wasn’t writing for anybody but me this time.  I just wrote whatever came to mind.  After a few months, I put all of these songs together and decided to do a CD of my own.I needed a CD cover, so a friend arranged for a photographer to shoot some photos of my donkey face.  I sat at the piano and he took pictures.  After the photo shoot, I made dinner.As we were having dinner, I asked the photographer what kind of stuff he liked to photograph.  He told me he was a forensic photographer for the police department.So…The guy who shot the front cover of the very first Slim Man CD took photos of dead bodies for a living.  Come to think of it, the front cover for End of the Rainbow does look a little morose.  But even that didn’t stop it from being one of the Top Ten Jazz CDs for the whole year.One door closes, another one opens.SEARED SCALLOPSI have a great friend named Clubby Clubb who lives in Ocean City, Maryland – he was also good friends with Brian. Clubby Clubb has the most incredible wine store and deli a block from the beach.  He lives a charmed life.  He only works six months a year, April to September.  The rest of the year?Mostly, he goes fishing. He plays with his kids.One day when I told him I wanted some fresh scallops, he told me about a bayside fish store where the boats bring everything in fresh each morning, to service the resort restaurants.I went there one morning and they had these incredible scallops.  I love scallops and I created a way of searing them that is so quick, so simple and so delicious that you are going to send me a million dollars after you try these.Make all checks out to Mr. Man.Scallops are expensive—I’ve seen them as high as $36 a pound. I found them for $20 a pound recently, and bought a pound. There were 10 big scallops, which I seared. They were delizioso!One last note - make sure you buy dry scallops.  This is very important.  Your fish guy should know. Wet scallops are injected with chemicals and crap and are impossible to sear.Buy dry scallops, and gently rinse them. Then gently pat them dry with paper towels. Keep patting them dry until the paper towels are no longer damp. Even dry scallops retain a bit of water. Water ain’t good for the searing process! Capisce?And finally, if you don’t like prosciutto, just leave it out. You can still pierce the scallops with the rosemary—without the prosciutto.INGREDIENTS10 dry sea scallops, about one pound10 slices of prosciutto, sliced thin, fat trimmed off10 thin rosemary sprigs, each at least 4 inches longA little brown sugar or turbinado sugar (you can use regular sugar in a pinch)Salt (I use kosher salt)Fresh cracked black pepper1 tablespoon butter1 tablespoon extra virgin olive oilHere we go...Rinse off the scallops and pat dry with paper towels.  Remove the small side muscle from each scallop, and discard - the muscle, not the scallop!  Place the scallops on a plate.Take a slice of prosciutto, and trim it so it’s about the same size as the scallop. Remove some of the fat if you like, and wrap it around the sides of the scallop.  I wrap the prosciutto around once, and slice off the remaining prosciutto.Then, take a sprig of rosemary, about 4 inches long, and strip off about an inch of the leaves from the bottom of the sprig.  Take the bottom end of the rosemary sprig, and pierce it through the side of the scallop, to hold the prosciutto in place.The end without the leaves should be poking out of one side of the scallop, and the other end – the top of the sprig – should be poking out of the other side of the scallop.Do this with all 10 scallops.Add a sprinkle of brown sugar, salt and pepper to the top of all 10 scallops.Put a large sauté pan over medium-high heat.  Add 1 tablespoon of butter and 1 tablespoon of olive oil.  When the butter starts to bubble and turn brown, place the scallops in the pan, salted/peppered/sugared side down.Cook for 90 seconds, 2 minutes maximum. As they cook, add a LITTLE salt, pepper, and brown sugar on top of each scallop.Use some tongs to turn each scallop over.  Before you set each scallop back in the pan, swirl the butter and olive oil around in the pan, so you’re not placing the scallop in a dry pan. Cook for 90 seconds, 2 minutes maximum on the other side.Remove the scallops with some tongs.  Make sure the scallops are done.  Cooking times can vary according to the heat of your stove and the thickness of the scallops.Dish it up! You can serve these over some wild greens, with some tomatoes on the side. Or eat them all by themselves.MANGIAMO!!!!!!!

Seared Salmon with Ginger and Scallion Glaze

The first time I went to Nashville was when Ronnie Dunn was competing in the finals of the Marlboro Country Music Talent Contest.  It was the late 80’s.We had discovered Ronnie in Tulsa, Oklahoma, at a place called Tulsa City Limits.  He did his soundcheck before the show, and I knew he was going to win the whole competition.  He did.And he did it in Nashville at a place called the Stockyard, a restaurant that specializes in…beef.I fell in love with Nashville.  It’s still one of my favorite towns.When my friend Patrick Clifford moved there a couple years ago, I started going back.  I got such a great vibe from the place.  But I wasn’t ready to make a move from my hometown of Baltimore.My Dad was not doing well.  He was living alone in upstate New York, and it was getting tough for him to deal with all the snow and freezing cold.  The closest town was about a half-hour away.  To get there you had to drive down dirt roads.Most old folks drive slow.  My Dad drove like he’d just robbed a bank.A couple times, he slid off the road into snow banks.  So it was time to make a move.  He kept the house upstate, and moved to Annapolis, where he was much closer to the family.When he got settled in, I decided to drive to Nashville.  I took Batu with me.  We looked at a couple of places, and I found a place I really liked.  It was dog-friendly.  I signed a lease.I wasn’t really looking to make a move.  And I don’t know why I pulled the trigger right then and there.  But I did.I went back and told my Dad I was moving.  He asked me when.  I told him…two weeks.  He was surprised, but happy for me.  I was sad, but it wasn’t like I was moving to the Amazon.  Nashville is 700 miles from Annapolis.  If anything were to happen, I could be back in a day.So I packed up all my stuff.  I don’t have a lot of stuff.  I never really wanted to have a lot of stuff.  I could put everything I own in a Hefty trash bag liner, sling it over my shoulder, and be gone.And that’s what I did.  I grabbed Batu, put him on top of the stuff piled in my car, and I drove to Tennessee.  My apartment in Nashville was in a place called the Gulch.  The Gulch is Nashville trying to be Manhattan.  They had a few high-rise, modern apartment buildings, and some cool little bars and cafes and restaurants, but it wasn’t real popular.  Or populated.My building was called the Velocity.  It was maybe half-full.  It had covered parking, and it was very modern.  The apartments were very small.  Mine was 500 square feet or so.  But I dug it.There were train tracks right behind the apartment.  Not just one or two…a bunch of them.  It never bothered me; I liked the sounds of trains going by.I had a balcony out front.  I could see Music Row.  And I could see that the Gulch was starting to build up.  An organic grocery called The Turnip Truck was going up a block away.  A clothing and music store called Two Old Hippies was being built.  More high-rises were being built all around.Nashville was growing up in a hurry.My amigo Patrick was taking me around town, introducing me to some wonderful people.  Robert Ellis Orrall and I became friends.  He’s an amazing guy.  He set up the showcase at the Bluebird that launched Taylor Swift into the stratosphere.  He co-wrote a lot of songs with her.Robert also has a very cool record company called Infinity Cat.  It’s a pop/punk/alternative label.  His sons, Jeff The Brotherhood, were on Infinity Cat.  They just got signed to Warner Brothers.  Infinity Cat has a band called Diarrhea Planet that is about to blow up—they just got a rave review in Rolling Stone.Patrick also introduced me to Angelo Petraglia.  Angelo produces Kings of Leon.  He gave them their signature sound.  Angelo has a band called The Jane Shermans that are one of my favorites.  Hiswife sings lead and plays bass.  They sound like The Pretenders meets Missing Persons meets U2.  I saw them at The Basement.The Basement is a showcase club that holds maybe 50 people.  It's in the basement of a record store called Grimey's.  That's right, a record store.  They used to have them all over the USA.  Now there are only a few left.  Grimey's is one of them.  And the club downstairs is one of the coolest around.

And one of the coolest bands I've seen at the Basement is St. Paul and the Broken Bones.  They are amazing.  The lead singer looks like Drew Carey, and sings like Wilson Pickett.

Patrick looked at me the first time we saw them and said…“Star Time!”

I told everyone who would listen to watch out for St. Paul and the Broken Bones.  Last week they were on CBS TV.Nashville is cool.  It didn’t used to be cool, but now it’s on fire.  GQ calls it “The hippest town in America.”  The New York Times calls it “The It City.”  I’ve seen more beards and skinny jeans there than Brooklyn.Artists, bands, songwriters are flocking to the place.  Record labels, music biz people, are moving there in droves.  The Black Keys, Jack White, Sheryl Crow and tons of other acts now call Nashville home.There is more construction going on in Nashville than I’ve ever seen in one city.  Houses, apartments, malls, restaurants, cafes, clubs, office buildings…the town is blowing up.The TV show ‘Nashville’ is bringing a lot of attention to the town.  I’ve done some acting on that show.  It’s pretty cool--since they had me on it!The only thing missing in Nashville is a cool jazz club, a place where a guy like Slim Man could play.Or cook.  Or clean...Seared SalmonI had a hot date.  It was a hot day in Nashville.  I had tickets to the Sade concert that night at the Bridgestone arena.  Patrick got me tickets at the last second.  He's a well-connected man.So I had this idea to do a little seared salmon with a glaze.  I went out to the store, bought what I needed for the glaze, went to the really expensive organic grocer to get the really wild Coho salmon, and I went back to the Slim Shack to put it all together.I was going to do a glaze with soy sauce, scallions and ginger, similar to my Salmon Ella recipe.  I put together some soy sauce, some grated ginger, some scallion, some garlic, and some hot sauce...and it sucked.  It was salty, so I added a little honey.  It didn’t taste right.  No matter what I did, I couldn’t get it right.Hot Date was coming over in 20 minutes, but I didn’t panic.  I threw the soy sauce glaze in the disposal, and started all over.  Tried it again with some olive oil and balsamic vinegar instead of soy sauce.  And I nailed it.I put the salmon over some organic mixed greens, and took an heirloom tomato and sliced it into small wedges, and placed them around the edges of the plate.  It looked great.  It tasted scrump-didlly-umptious.Oh, and Sade?  It was one of the best shows I’ve ever seen.  I’ve seen Hendrix twice.  Saw the Doors on the first tour, and their last tour.  Saw U2 at the Ritz in NYC on their first tour.  The Police on their first tour.  I saw The Stones (The Rolling Stones, not the Flintstones) in 1972 when Stevie Wonder opened up.  Earth, WInd and Fire, Gladys Knight, The Spinners...I've seen so many great shows.And Sade’s show--August 1, 2011--in Nashville was one of the best I’ve ever seen.  The staging, the production. the pacing, the musicianship, the lights, her voice, the songs...just excellent.  And Sade was born the same day as a guy named Slim Man.  January 16, 1914.IngredientsThe Salmon:2 pieces of salmon, about 1/3 pound each, filets, skinless, about an inch thickkosher salt (just a sprinkle)brown sugar or turbinado sugar (just a sprinkle)1 tablespoon of butter1 tablespoon extra virgin olive oilThe Glaze:3 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil1 tablespoon balsamic vinegar1 tablespoon chopped scallions (use the middle green part)1 teaspoon grated ginger1/2 teaspoon minced garlicThe SaladOrganic mixed greensOne heirloom tomato, sliced into small wedgesHere we go...Pre-heat your oven to 350 degrees.  Rinse off the salmon and pat dry with paper towels.Put all of the glaze ingredients in a jar, and shake it up.  Set aside.Sprinkle a little kosher salt, and a little brown sugar (just a little!) on one side of the salmon.Get a small fry pan, put it on medium-high heat.  Add the butter and the olive oil, and when it starts smoking, add the salmon, sprinkled side down, and cook for 1 MINUTE AND THIRTY SECONDS!While it’s cooking, sprinkle the un-sprinkled side with a little kosher salt and a little brown sugar.  Turn the salmon over, and cook for 1 MINUTE AND THIRTY SECONDS!Remove from the heat.  Get a baking dish, put just enough olive oil in the bottom to keep the salmon from sticking, and place the salmon in the dish.  Pour half the glaze over one piece of the salmon, and the other half of the glaze over the other piece of salmon.Put the salmon in the oven and cook for five minutes.  Don’t overcook.Put some greens on a plate.  Place the tomato wedges around the edges.  Put the salmon on top of the greens, pour a little marinade from the baking dish onto the salmon, and a little onto the greens, and…MANGIAMO!!!!!!!

Swordfish with Shallots, Capers and White Wine

I grew up in Baltimore, Maryland, about three miles from Memorial Stadium. That’s where the Baltimore Orioles played baseball. It’s where the Baltimore Colts played football.My brother and I were crazy about the Orioles and Colts. Our uncle Oscar loved the Colts, took us to lots of games when we were kids. Fans at football games can get a bit rowdy. If you’re a 10 year-old, it’s good to have a sleeve to hang on to. Especially a sleeve connected to a guy like Oscar.But baseball? It’s a bit gentler, safer for a kid. In the summertime, my brother and I would go to Orioles games by ourselves. We’d get to the stadium anyway we could; walk, ride a bike, take the bus. We’d get there early, so we could catch batting practice. We’d stand out in the left-field bleachers with our gloves, two raggedy young kids, hoping to snag a batting practice home run. Or a foul ball. Or maybe a pitcher in the bullpen would throw us a ball. Anything.My brother and I collected Orioles baseball cards. We belonged to the Junior Orioles. When we played baseball in the backyard, we’d take the names of our favorite O’s players. My brother wanted to be called “Brooks” after Brooks Robinson (third base). I wanted to be Paul Blair, a black centerfielder. He was my favorite player. Paul Blair once threw me a baseball after I screamed “Hey, Paul, throw me a ball!” about 300 times during batting practice.Section 9 was our spot for baseball in Memorial Stadium—the outfield bleachers. There were rows of yellow aluminum benches with no backs and no padding; when the weather was hot, it was like sitting on a stove, when it was cold, it was like sitting on a block of ice. It didn’t matter to us. We loved the O's.My brother and I played little league baseball for years. My brother was really good; he got all the trophies. I wasn’t any good, but I loved playing. I still like throwing a ball around. I really like batting cages. You stand in a fenced-in cage, and a pitching machine throws baseballs at you, and you try and hit them with your bat.My Dad lived in upstate New York. Cooperstown—where the Baseball Hall of Fame is—is not far away. My Dad was an extra in a Tom Hanks baseball movie—A League of Their Own—that was filmed on the baseball field in Cooperstown. I’ve been to Cooperstown a couple of times, it’s a great place to visit if you’re a baseball fan. They’ve got batting cages—I tried the pitching machine that threw knuckleballs, and I didn’t hit one good ball.The next time I stepped into a batting cage, I hit two good balls.My band BootCamp was playing in a rock club in Ocean City, Maryland, one summer and there was a batting cage in an amusement park right behind the club. The afternoon before our Big Show, the drummer, Hit Man Howie Z, and our friend Roger—who would later name his only son Brooks—went down to the batting cage. We three were the only ones there.All I had on was a thin, baggy, nylon bathing suit and a T-shirt. It was the beach, it was summer. I grabbed a bat, put my money in the machine and stepped into the cage. This was hardball; I was staring at an 80 mile per hour fastball machine. I stood next to home plate, bat poised, waiting for the first pitch. It catapulted out of the machine, and screamed towards me.I swung, and hit the ball with all my might. The ball shot straight down, hit home plate, and shot straight up like a rocket and hit me squarely in the you-know-whats.I hit the ground like a sack of cement. I curled up in the fetal position, racked in pain, breathless. Fastballs were screaming over my head, smacking into the backboard, and bouncing all around. Hit Man and Rog were trying to grab me in between pitches, trying to avoid getting hit by 80 mph fastballs. My legs wouldn’t uncurl. They eventually dragged me—still curled up tight in the fetal position—by my feet, out of harm’s way.The BootCamp show that night was not as lively as usual. I sang while standing in one spot, all night long. I couldn’t move. But I did hit some high notes I’d never hit before.In 1983, BootCamp sang the national anthem at Memorial Stadium for the Baltimore Colts football team. A couple months later, the Colts moved to Indianapolis. I hope our rendition of the Star Spangled Banner didn’t affect their decision. I thought we sounded great.In 1986, BootCamp sang the national anthem at Memorial Stadium for the Baltimore Orioles baseball team. Earl Weaver, their long-time manager, retired a couple weeks later. I was starting to think maybe I was a jinx.In 1992, the Orioles moved from Memorial Stadium to a new ballpark in the heart of downtown Baltimore—probably to get rid of the jinx. The new stadium was called Orioles Park at Camden Yards, and it was and is a beauty.In 1995, I released the first Slim Man CD, End of the Rainbow. I wanted to take a copy to my dentist, who was also a friend.  Going to his office was like going to the Playboy Mansion; all the assistants looked like Playboy Bunnies and he was like Hugh Hefner—I think he even dressed in silk pajamas and ascots rather than scrubs and a mask.I drove to downtown Baltimore, parked in an underground lot, and got in a limited access elevator--it only went to the top two floors. Guess who got in right behind me? Cal Ripken, Jr., shortstop for the Baltimore Orioles. Rookie of the Year, 1982. Most Valuable Player, 1983—when the Orioles won the World Series. I’d seem him play hundreds of times, but had never met him. I introduced myself, told him I was a big fan. Cal Ripken, Jr. shook my hand. I gave him the End of the Rainbow CD that I was saving for my dentist. I told Cal it was my first CD; he gave it a look, and thanked me.About five years later, the Orioles asked me to sing the national anthem at Orioles Park. I guess they were desperate. I’m a patriot. I love the USA. And singing the anthem is an honor, plain and simple.I practiced “The Star-Spangled Banner” day and night for weeks. My neighbors probably thought I was either really crazy or really patriotic. Or both.  I tried singing the anthem every way I could.  I sang it slow.  I sang it fast.  I sang it half-fast, which is the way I normally sing.The day finally arrived.  I got to Camden Yards that September evening, 2000, and a young woman from the Orioles office led me on to the field. The sky was cloudy, it looked like it might rain. Hit Man was with me, so was Roger. So was Griff, the guy who signed me to Motown—he’s a huge baseball fan. My Mom, in her wheelchair, was in the stands nearby. She was also a big Orioles fan, used to listen to the games on the radio in the kitchen at Rosebank.The players were standing by. I walked up to the microphone at home plate, the crowd stood on their feet, hats off, hands on hearts. The announcer introduced me, and I started singing. I did the “Star Spangled Banner” Slim Man style—low and slow. The woman who had led me on the field kept waving her arms in a circle, motioning for me to speed it up. She looked like a third base coach waving a runner home.But, like Frank Sinatra, I did it my way.I thought it sounded good. Nobody booed and nobody left, which to me is a successful gig. The anthem is not an easy song to sing. At least I remembered all the words. When I finished, I walked by Cal Ripken Jr., who was warming up outside the dugout. I was hoping he’d come up to me, give me a high five and say, “Slim Man! That CD you gave me in the elevator is incredible."He didn’t. But he did smile and shake my hand and say, “Nice job" as I walked by.Then I started thinking…was he talking about my version of the anthem? Or the End of the Rainbow CD? He probably meant both. Right?Swordfish with Capers and ShallotsA couple things…before you buy or cook your fish, take a sniff.  It should smell like the sea.  Fresh.  Your nose knows.  When in doubt, throw it out.Swordfish sometimes has small, dark areas.  I cut these out.  They tend to taste really fishy.  You can use any firm-fleshed white fish — halibut, sea bass, or grouper.Cooking times are always approximate.  The thicker the fish, the longer it takes.Serves 3Ingredients3 pieces of swordfish, about a half pound each, about an inch thick, skin removed1 tablespoon extra-virgin olive oil1 tablespoon butterFlour (a ¼ cup should do)2 tablespoons minced shallots2 tablespoons capers, plus a tablespoon of their juice2 tablespoons chopped Italian flat leaf parsley¼ cup dry white wineSalt and pepper to tasteHere we go…Rinse off the fish, and pat dry with paper towels.  Sometimes frozen fish retains water, so pat dry until the paper towel is not damp.Heat your oven to the lowest possible temperature, which is usually 170 degrees.  The oven at Slim’s Shady Trailer Park has a “keep warm” setting that works nicely.Heat the olive oil and the butter over medium-high heat in a sauté pan, big enough for all 3 pieces of swordfish.  Let the olive oil and butter heat until the butter starts to bubble, about 2 minutes.While it’s heating, put some flour on a plate.  Add salt and pepper to the flour, mix it up.Press each piece of fish into the flour, lightly coating each side.  Lightly!Put each piece of swordfish in the pan.Cook for 2 or 3 minutes, depending on the thickness (thicker pieces take longer).  Grab your tongs.  Turn the fish over. Swirl the olive oil and butter in the bottom of the pan before you put the fish back in. You don’t want to put it in a dry pan.Cook for 2 or 3 minutes.Remove the fish to a plate.  Put it in the warm oven.Add the chopped shallots to the pan (the one you cooked the swordfish in), cook for 30 seconds or more until golden brown.Add the capers and their juice, cook for 30 seconds or more.  Then add the parsley and white wine, and cook for 2 minutes.Turn off the heat under the pan.Remove the fish from the oven.  Put it in the pan for a quick minute, then, dish it up!  Put each piece of swordfish on a plate.Pour a little sauce over top of each piece of swordfish.Add a circular slice of lemon (remove the seeds), and a sprig of fresh Italian parsley. My incredible Italian kale recipe goes well alongside this fish dish, or maybe my amazing spinach and almonds recipe. Or perhaps Uncle Slimmy’s rock ‘em, sock ‘em broccoli and peppers? Yes indeedy!MANGIAMO!!!!!!