Slim Man Cooks Asparagus with Parmigiano

Our manager told us about this new television network that was about to launch, a 24-hour network that was going to play nothing but music videos. They were gonna call it…MTV. Music Television.He played us a few videos that were scheduled for rotation, and asked us if we could do a couple like that. We, the boys in the band, looked at each other and told him, ”Yes, we can.”But we didn’t have a lot of time. The launch of MTV was about to happen.Our manager was Carl Griffin (Griff), the same guy who signed me to Motown. Our band was BootCamp. We had just released a 7” vinyl single with two songs, “Hold On to the Night” and “I’m A Victim.” It was doing really well.We had no idea how to make a music video. We didn’t even know what a music video was until Griff showed us the MTV demo reel. But we knew a guy who worked as a cameraman for the local TV station. He worked in the news van, doing live remotes.We called him. He told us he could “borrow” the cameras and stuff from the TV station, but it had to be after hours. My guess is that he was gonna borrow this stuff without asking, because he asked us to keep it on the down-low. The hush-hush.The first video we shot was for the song “Hold on to the Night.” I wanted to shoot the video at night (clever!) on The Block, which is a two-block section of Baltimore Street in downtown Baltimore that has strip clubs, adult bookstores and peep shows. And a hot dog place called Pollack Johnny’s.But how were we gonna get Baltimore Street closed down in the middle of the night, when all the action was going on?I called the Baltimore Police Department. I told them we were shooting a movie with Ben Vereen. It was the first name that came to mind. To my surprise, the BPD agreed to shut down the street. Ben Vereen is an actor and singer, he was pretty popular in Baltimore, had done a bunch of shows there. So the Baltimore Police Department put out the order to close Baltimore Street for a few hours for a movie shoot for Ben Vereen.We showed up with our TV cameraman, and a couple of guitars, and…we had no idea what to do. We had no script. We had no Ben Vereen. We had a boombox and an empty street. It started to drizzle…so we pressed “record” and started rolling. In the rain.Action! We did take after take. The drizzle worked in our favor—it made the street look shiny and cool. The camera guy was really creative. He did takes where he was lying on the wet ground with the camera looking up. He swooped and swerved and shot some crazy footage.Hit Man Howie Z started banging his drumsticks on the side of a trashcan. Some garbage got stuck on one of his sticks, and crap started flying everywhere. The cameraman was getting it all, but if he had panned out, you would have seen a sergeant with the BPD standing next to Howie, yelling at him…“You better clean up all that s**t when you’re done, son!”We did some more takes, and…Maybe the cops finally figured out that this wasn’t a Ben Vereen movie, or maybe the strippers were complaining about us driving away the customers, but the police put a halt to the filming. They took down the barricades, and traffic started flowing slowly down Baltimore Street again.We left without having any idea if what we shot was good, bad or ugly.It’s a wrap! One down. One to go.A friend of mine had just finished working on an Al Pacino movie that was shot in Baltimore, And Justice for All. The filmmakers had used an old courthouse and the old Baltimore City jail for the movie, and the sets were just sitting there vacant, waiting to be torn down.All the props and the furniture had been left behind, completely intact. It would be perfect for the “I’m a Victim" video.Once again, we had to do it all on the hush-hush. We didn’t really have permission to use the vacant And Justice for All set. We just showed up on the sly and started shooting. Our camera guy had “borrowed” the gear from the TV station once again, and we all sneaked into the courthouse and the jail, and commenced with the craziness.For the “I’m A Victim” video, we actually had a vague idea of what we wanted to do. I was going to be a lawyer. Hit Man Howie Z (BootCamp drummer Howard Zizzi) would be the guy on trial, Rob Roberts (Bob Fallin, guitar) was the judge, and Tom Alonso (keyboards) was the stenographer.There wasn’t a real story. It was just us, in a courtroom, clowning around, with our assorted friends as jurors and observers.We just started filming and improvising. The camera guy was shooting everything, trying to get as much footage as possible in the little time we had. We had one camera, that’s it. We didn’t have any microphones, or audio. We just sang along with a battery-powered boombox. We didn’t have any lighting. We didn’t have any assistants or stylists or producers or directors telling us what to do, where to go or what to wear.At one point, we were filming in a jail cell, and the door accidentally slammed shut with a CLANG! I was locked inside and they couldn’t get the door back open. It freaked me out a bit. I have recurring nightmares about being in prison.We were making it all up as we went along. I was just hoping the real cops wouldn’t bust in, and bust us for trespassing and send us to a real jail.We wrapped up—no sense in pressing our luck. Once again, we left the shoot with no idea if what we shot was any good.The cameraman edited both videos on his own. He snuck into the editing suite at the local TV station, and “borrowed” a few hours at a time. He eventually cut all the footage together. He showed us the two videos.They had a certain charm, for sure. Maybe the cinematography wasn’t gonna win an Oscar, and our acting wasn’t gonna keep Robert DeNiro up at night worrying about us stealing his next acting job, but the videos had a unique down-home allure.Griff sent them to MTV. We, the BootCamp Boys, didn’t think much about it after that. We had no idea how big MTV would be.When the network launched, MTV included the two BootCamp videos. They were two of the first 100 videos MTV ever played. They put us in regular rotation. MTV caught fire. We started getting calls…labels, agents, producers.It was an exciting time. I gotta give it to the camera guy. His name is Kurt Kolaja. He did a great job doing everything, from shooting to editing.MTV took off. So did BootCamp. We were in for a crazy ride…Asparagus with ParmigianoWhen you’ve just finished a video shoot outside a strip club, ain’t nothing like a little asparagus to make your pee-pee smell funny.I like to use thin asparagus—the size of a pencil.  They’re more tender and tastier than the big boys.So try to find asparagus that’s not the size of a tree trunk.  As a general rule, the larger the vegetable, the tougher it is.If the asparagus are really thick, you’ll have to peel the skin off the outer stalks.This dish should serve four people, depending on the people.  Members of my family eat like horses. That’s why I feed them in the barn.INGREDIENTS1 pound thin asparagus2 tablespoons olive oilKosher saltFresh cracked black pepper¼ cup fresh grated Parmigiano-Reggiano cheese, plus a little more for sprinklingHere we go…Rinse off your asparagus and pat dry with paper towels.Preheat your oven to 400 degrees.You need to break off the bottom ends of the asparagus.  Grab an asparagus spear.  Grab one end with your thumb and forefinger, and the other end with the thumb and forefinger of your other hand, and bend until it snaps.  Discard the bottom end.Do this to all the asparagus.  Rinse well, pat dry with paper towels.Put them in a glass or ceramic baking dish.Drizzle with olive oil, about 2 tablespoons.Mix them up; make sure each spear is coated.Add some kosher salt and some freshly cracked black pepper.Mix them up again.Put the dish in the oven.Bake for 15 minutes.  Check the asparagus, make sure they’re done.  If they ain’t, put ‘em back in for 5 minutes. They should be firm, but not crunchy.Take the dish out of the oven, sprinkle the asparagus with the grated cheese.Set the oven to broil. Put the dish back in the oven for A MINUTE OR TWO! Keep an eye on these guys!When you see the Parmigiano start to brown, take the baking dish out of the oven, try an asparagus spear, make sure it’s done, and dish it up!This dish goes well with Slim chicken Marsala, or chicken Milanese, or lemon chicken.MANGIAMO!!!!!!!!

Slim Man Cooks Broccoli and Peppers

Broccoli and peppers and My Dad's Cell PhoneWhen my Dad found his dream spot on top of a mountain in the Catskills in upstate New York, there was nothing there but an empty cinder block garage with a dirt floor and an incredible view.No electricity, no running water, no phone, no nothin’.My Dad took that garage and slowly built it into quite a nice cabin. Then he built a small compound around it. He built a tiny log bunkhouse on the hill. Then he built a small barn next door with a small apartment over top. My Dad didn’t do any of the actual construction; he supervised and lent a hand.The place was called Rat Tail Ridge. Batu loved it up there. Summers were magnificent. Winters were brutal. There was so much snow on his roof in the wintertime, that my Dad had to get somebody to climb up and shovel it off so it wouldn’t cave in.It wasn’t an easy place to get to or get out of. It was kinda isolated, especially in the winter, when you needed a front-loader to plow the driveway.In the morning, my Dad liked to drive into Meridale to the tiny post office, get his mail, and talk with the woman behind the counter. Then he’d grab the New York Times and the local paper at the small coffee shop next door and drive back to Rat Tail Ridge.Most old people drive slow. Not my Dad. He drove like he’d just robbed a 7-11. I used to jog from his house down the side of the mountain, and I could hear him a mile away, tearing up the dirt road, a cloud of dust behind him.I would dive off the side of the road, afraid he wouldn’t see me and run me over. He’d fly by without recognizing me, his head barely visible above the steering wheel. One time he drove into a snow bank. He got stuck there for a while. That was when I decided it was time to get him a cell phone.I got him in my car and we drove down to the AT&T store in Oneonta. The drive is about 40 minutes. He wasn’t pleased with the idea of getting a cell phone. It was like driving someone to get their arm amputated.AT&T is the only carrier that works up at my Dad’s place. We got to the store. My Dad wasn’t happy, at all. Keep in mind; he wasn’t a happy guy to begin with. We went up to the counter, a sales guy came over – a young kid, friendly and clean-cut. I told him what I wanted...A cell phone. One with big numbers. One that was easy to operate. I didn’t need it to make movies. I didn’t need it to tune a guitar. I didn’t need a phone that was also a microwave oven.I just wanted a simple phone for my Dad for emergencies and stuff like that. Maybe a phone where he could receive text messages and photos from his kids and grandkids. I thought that would be nice for the old grouch.The sales guy looked at me, then looked at my Dad. He cheerfully asked us if we wanted a two-year plan or a five-year plan.My Dad looked at him and said,“Are you fuckin’ kiddin’ me? I’m 86 years old! Give me the shortest plan you got, ‘cause I don’t know how much fuckin’ longer I’m gonna be around.”My Dad wasn't trying to be mean or rude. That’s just the way he talked, excuse the language. He cussed a lot and was not apologetic about it. I use it here for verisimilitude. My dad was rough, gruff and tough as iron. He never minced words, he gave it to you straight between the eyes. He was well-read, well-educated and eloquent. Poetic, even. But the “F” word in all its forms was a regular part of his daily vocabulary.I explained to the sales guy, we just need a phone with a pay-as-you-go plan. A phone that was cheap, easy, and so simple that a chimpanzee could figure it out. No offense to chimpanzees. Some of my best friends act like chimpanzees.I asked sales dude if we could get a number my Dad could remember, something like 607 S-L-I-M-M-A-N. They guy explained that there weren’t a whole lot of numbers available for that area. I had no idea what he was talking about, but he told me a number had just become available – some guy had just cancelled his service.We took that number.We got in the car, started the long drive home, up the small, winding two-lane mountain road that led Rat Tail Ridge. My Dad held the phone in his hand, like he was holding a severed animal head in his palm.PING! My dad got a text message. He looked at me.“What the hell is that?”I grabbed the phone and looked at it. It was a photo of a woman with no clothes on.Now, I can appreciate the female form in its most natural state. Since the beginning of time, artists have been trying to capture that marvelous naked beauty on canvas and in marble.But the photo on my Dad’s cell phone was of a woman who weighed at least 400 pounds. She was completely naked, and it was hard to tell what she was doing. It looked like she was trying to scratch her head with her big toe. Not the kind of pose that would inspire Leonardo da Vinci.My Dad took the phone and looked at the photo.“Is that a vagina?”For all of my Dad’s cussing, he used delicate words when it came to the women folk.“It’s kind of hard to tell, Paps, but yes, I think it is.”A few minutes later - PING! He looked at his phone.“What the hell is that?”I grabbed his phone. I almost drove off the road. It was another photo of an incredibly large woman on her knees, completely naked, on all fours. It looked like she was looking on the floor for a contact lens.Funny, my Dad wasn’t into any of that kind of stuff. He never had girly mags around, never even had a Playboy. I never found any of that stuff around the house when I was a kid, and I rarely use the word “never.”PING!They kept coming. Text photos of huge naked women. My Dad asked if all cell phones were like this. I explained to him that the guy who had the number before was probably into some kinky stuff, and I would try and fix it when we got home.We got to Rat Tail Ridge, and I fixed his phone, blocked some numbers, cleared out some junk. I programmed some numbers on the speed dial. I explained to my Dad that all he had to do was press and hold the number "1" key, and it would call me.I set it up so number "2" was his Off-Track Betting account, so he could play the horses. Then I put in his wife’s number, my sister’s number, the other kids’ numbers, the nurse, the hospital, his proctologist and he was good to go.My Dad started enjoying his cell phone. Whenever my Dad called, he’d never say hello, how are you. He’d just start talking. Most of the conversations were quick and to the point. Then he’d hang up without saying goodbye. No hello, no goodbye.I loved my Dad even though he wasn’t an easy guy to love. We started talking on the phone, just about every day.He passed away last year. I still have his cell number on my phone.I just can’t bear to erase it.BROCCOLI WITH RED, YELLOW AND ORANGE BELL PEPPERSMy Dad didn’t like vegetables. When he got older, I would try and get him to eat a salad, or some vegetables, and he’d say,“I’m 86 years old. I’ve made it this far without eating that shit, and I ain’t startin’ now.”He wasn’t all warm and fuzzy.This dish can be used as a side dish, or as an appetizer. You can serve it over rice, pasta, or on bruschetta. Put it on a pizza! It’s colorful, healthy and delizioso.This will serve four people, or one really huge naked woman.INGREDIENTS4 tablespoons olive oil6 cloves of garlic, sliced thin, about 2 tablespoonsCrushed red pepper (to taste--I use ¼  teaspoon to start)¼ cup dry white wine1 orange bell pepper, seeds and stems removed, chopped1 red bell pepper, seeds and stems removed, chopped1 yellow bell pepper, seeds and stems removed, chopped4 cups broccoli florets¾ cup vegetable broth (or chicken broth)Salt (to taste)Here we go…Get a large pan, put it over medium-low heat.Add the olive oil, the garlic, and the crushed red pepper and cook for a couple minutes until the garlic is a light gold color.Add the white wine, turn the heat up to high, and cook for two minutes.Then reduce the heat back to medium-low.Add the peppers, and cook for 5 minutes. Stir often.Add the broccoli.Add the vegetable broth, and turn the heat to high until it starts to bubble.Once bubbly, turn the heat down to a simmer. Cook for an additional 6 minutes until the broccoli is done. Stir often.Taste for salt and adjust.Some people like their broccoli crunchy. I like it cooked – not mushy, but firm. This dish is delish with fish—any one of the Slim Fish Dishes would go well with this. Especially Salmon Ella.MANGIAMO!!!

Slim Man Cooks Monkfish Fra Diavolo

My cousin told me I needed a colonoscopy.This wasn’t just a casual conversation at a bar, or a football game, or in front of the family at Sunday dinner.My cousin was also my doctor.  Before that, his Dad--my uncle Oscar--was my doctor.I like to keep it in the family.Yes, it was a little embarrassing when it came time to…turn your head and cough and stuff.  But it was rather comforting to know that you were in good hands, so to speak.My cousin the doctor was a thorough guy who wouldn’t give you an aspirin without a complete physical.  So when he told me I needed a colonoscopy, I knew I needed to heed his advice.I went to the colonoscopy clinic in Baltimore, Maryland.  It was a friendly place.  The doctor seemed like he knew what he was doing, the nurses were nice, and I felt as comfortable as I could, under the circumstances.They asked me to take off my clothes, and put on one of those robes, the kind that are open in the back.  Can’t they just give you a normal robe, the kind that belts up in the front?  The other way is humiliating.So I put on the open-ass robe, and they asked me to lie down on the operating table.  They covered me with a white blanket, and one of the nurses started talking to me.“How are you?  Where are you from?  Are you warm enough?  Have you ever been convicted of a felony?”  It was just pleasant small talk.  We chatted for a little while, and then she said…“I think I recognize your voice!”I had a radio show in Baltimore for about eight years.  I played jazz on Sunday mornings.  It was the big Adult Contemporary station in town (Elton John, Olivia Newton John, Celine Dion) and the program director had asked me if I wanted to do a jazz show on Sunday mornings.I had never done radio.  I told him so, and he said it didn’t matter.  I gotta give it to the guy—Gary Balaban—he saw something I didn't, and he stayed with it for years.I got a lot of nasty phone calls in the beginning, folks bitchin’ about not hearing Michael Bolton and whatnot.  But I just kept on doing my thing.The radio station gave me a free hand--they let me play whatever I wanted to play.  So I did.  I’d play Louis Armstrong, and then some Dave Grusin.  I’d play Miles Davis and then segue into Marc Antoine.  I'd play Herb Alpert and follow it up with some Ella Fitzgerald.  I would also give local musicians I liked some airtime.  I stuttered and stammered when I first started, and then I got into the flow.I started interviewing artists, as well as playing music.   Big-name, small-name, no-name, I just loved talking about music.The radio station never paid me.  When I started, I wasn’t very good.  So I never asked them about the money.  It wasn’t until I’d been doing it for years that they started paying me…fifty bucks a show.  For a four-hour gig.It wasn't about the money, obviously.  I was starting to love it.  I would have continued to do it for nothing.It's hard to believe, but we started getting really good ratings.  Record companies started sending me CDs.  Managers were calling, pushing their artists.  Promoters were trying to get their records played.But all I wanted to do was play the music that I liked, talk to the artists I enjoyed, promote the musicians I thought worthy.  And that's what I did, for 8 years.  I was on the air every Sunday.  When I went on tour, I’d pre-record the show.  The Cool Jazz Café.  Folks were tuning in.  It was taking off.So, it wasn’t a huge surprise when the nurse told me she recognized my voice.“Are you Slim Man?”“Yes I am.”She yelled out…“You have the radio show on Sundays.  I know you!”I looked at her and said…“You’re about to know me a whole lot better.”It was weird, yes.  But what are you gonna do?  Jump up off the table and run out of the place, bare-ass hanging out?  They put the anesthesia mask over my face…Next thing I knew, I was in the recovery room.  The nurse was smiling at me.  She said…“Everything looks good.”It sounded a little strange, the way she said it.  I looked at her and said…“I guess this makes us friends.”Monkfish Fra DiavoloThe literal translation of fra diavolo is “from the devil.”  The expression is used to mean a dish that’s spicy.This dish is usually made with lobster.  I like lobster, but it’s a pain in the ass—like a colonoscopy.Lobster's expensive, hard to cook, and hard to clean up.  It’s hard to crack the claws and the shells.I was in Paris once and they had lotte on the menu.  I had no idea what it was.  The waiter told me it was "the poor-man’s lobster."  I felt like cracking him one.  But I ordered it and loved it.Here in the good ol’ USA, they call lotte "monkfish."  It’s one of the ugliest fishes you’ll ever see.  But man, does it taste good.  It has a taste and a texture similar to lobster, and it’s a whole lot cheaper, and a whole lot easier to deal with.Make sure to use monkfish filets.  Remove all the gray and tan membranes, and cut it up into bite-size chunks.I love this dish!INGREDIENTS 4 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil2 tablespoons sliced garlic (about 3 or 4 cloves, skin removed)4 tablespoons minced shallots (1 small shallot, skin removed)Crushed red pepper to taste (it’s “fra diavolo”--from the devil--so make it spicy!)1 cup white wineOne 28 ounce can (3 and ½ cups) of San Marzano or Italian tomatoes, smooshed up, yellow cores removed1/2 cup of  basil--a small handful½ teaspoon dried oregano1 pound monkfish filet, about 2 cups, membranes removed, chopped into cubesHere we go...If you are going to put this over pasta, grab a large pot, fill it with the coldest water you gots, and put it on the highest heat you gots.As the water starts to heat up, let’s cook our monkfish sauce.Put the olive oil in the bottom of a Dutch oven, or a large pan.Turn the heat to medium.  Let the olive oil heat up for 2 minutes.Add the fish.  Add salt and pepper to taste.Cook the fish on one side for two minutes.  Then turn over.  Cook for two more minutes on the other side.Remove the fish from the pan, and put on a plate.Add the garlic and shallots and crushed red pepper (to taste) to the pan.  Let them cook for about three minutes, stirring every minute or so.Then add the wine.  Turn up the heat to medium-high, and let the wine cook off for three minutes or so.  Stir frequently.Then add the tomatoes.  Grab your basil, and a pair of scissors, and snip the basil leaves into small pieces, right into the sauce.  Then add the oregano.  Turn the heat to high.  When the tomatoes come to a boil, reduce the heat to medium-low, and cook for fifteen minutes.Then, add the fish to the sauce.  Stir gently.  Cook for ten minutes on medium-low.  Don’t stir too often—we don’t want the fish pieces to break up.NOW FOR THE PASTA…When the water comes to a full boil, add about 3 tablespoons of Kosher salt.Then add a pound of linguine.Stir.  Stir it often.When the pasta is al dente, firm to the bite, drain it, and put it in a large bowl.Drizzle the pasta with a tablespoon of olive oil, and toss.Pour 2 cups of the monkfish sauce over the pasta and mix gently.Dish it up!  Put some pasta in a plate, add a spoonful or two of sauce on top, and garnish with a basil leaf or two.  And…MANGIAMO!!!!!!!!!!!!! 

Slim Man 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 Zucchini, Summer Squash and Eggplant

"Everything I am I owe to pasta."You know who said that?Sophia Loren.I’ve had a crush on her for a long time.  My Uncle Oscar once sat next to her on an airplane. They flew from New York to Rome.  A long flight, for sure.But if I were sitting next to Sophia Loren, I would have been praying that we’d get stuck on the tarmac for a few days.Or better yet--crash into the ocean, where just the two of us would be stuck on a small, deserted island for the rest of our lives, where I'd cook for her every day on an open fire on the beach next to our thatched hut while the waves gently wash on the shore as the sun sets gracefully on the horizon while I play my guitar (that miraculously washed ashore) as we drink wine that I made from wild grapes that I discovered when we were bathing in a nearby waterfall.I can dream, can’t I?Sophia Loren loves pasta.  So do I.The key to eating pasta on a regular basis is…don’t eat a wheelbarrow full.  Italians eat small amounts of pasta.  Italian restaurants in America serve buckets full of pasta, all covered in cheese and sauce and goo.Take your hands.  Cup them together.  That’s the amount of pasta you should put on a plate--unless you're four feet tall and have hands the size of Shaquille O'Neal's.Let me tell you a little story, a heart-warming tale about a boy, a bike and a zucchini.I was living in Nashville.  I rode my bike to the post office.  I dropped off some thank you notes—I write a lot of them, I have a lot to be thankful for—and saw some beautiful mums outside the fruit and vegetable stand across the street.I walked in to the red and white striped tent, and there were so many vegetables and fruits; fresh, ripe, colorful, local…it was amazing.  They had baskets and baskets of home grown tomatoes.  So much stuff to choose from.Only one problem…All I had was a five-dollar bill in my pocket.So, I picked out a green zucchini, a yellow summer squash, and a brown eggplant.  I had enough left over for a bulb of garlic and a shallot.  The total was four bucks and change.  I put the stuff in my messenger bag and rode my bike home.It was a beautiful fall day in Nashville; sunny, cool, and clear.  On my way home, I stopped by a friend’s restaurant, a great place called Mafioza's.  These mobsters grow basil outside in planters that border the entrance.  I picked a small handful, put it in my bag, and rode my bike home in a hail of bullets, ducking and weaving.I got back to the shack and decided to make a little sauce.  I put the sauce over pasta, but keep in mind, you can use a dish like this for anything…a side dish, on bruschetta, on pizza, over rice, as an appetizer, on your corn flakes…use your imagination.The sauce was delizioso.  Batu loved it.  Start to finish, it took 30 minutes.  And it cost about five bucks.  My kinda dish!I added some freshly grated carrots, about a ¼ cup, for a little color, and a little crunch.This should serve about three people, unless those people are teenage boys, in which case this will serve one.INGREDIENTS1 green zucchini, ends cut off, chopped into 1” triangular pieces (about a cup and a half)1 yellow summer squash, ends cut off, chopped into 1” triangular pieces (about a cup and a half)1 small eggplant, ends cut off, chopped into 1” triangular pieces (about a cup and a half)1/4 cup fresh grated carrotsSmall handful of fresh basil4 tablespoons of olive oil6 cloves of garlic, peeled, sliced into thin slices, about 1 1/2 tablespoons1 small shallot, peeled, minced, about 1 1/2 tablespoons1/3 cup of white wine1 cup of broth (chicken or vegetable)¾ pound of spaghetti, or fusilli, or farfalleSalt and crushed red pepperHere we go...Put a large saute pan over medium-low heat.  Add the olive oil.Add the garlic and shallots and some crushed red pepper (to taste), cook for 3 or 4 minutes, until the shallots are clear, and the garlic is pale gold.Turn the heat to high for 1 minute.  Then add the white wine, let it cook off for a minute or two.Turn the heat down to medium-low, add all the vegetables.Add the stock, and salt to taste.Let it cook over medium-low heat for ten minutes.  Stir every so often.Taste the vegetables.  You want them firm--not crunchy (underdone) or mushy (overdone).Adjust for salt and pepper.Take your basil, and snip it with scissors right into the sauce.  Give it a stir.Remove from the heat.If you want to use this over pasta, get a large pot, fill it with cold water and put it on the highest heat you got.When the water comes to a boil, add a couple tablespoons of salt (I use Kosher salt, not for religious reasons—I just like the way it tastes).Then add your pasta.  Stir it up every few minutes, so it doesn't stick together.  People should stick together, pasta should not.When the pasta is al dente—firm to the bite--drain it in a colander.Put the pasta in a large bowl.  Drizzle with a little olive oil and mix it up.Add most of the sauce, save a large spoonful for each plate (save three large spoonfuls).Mix it up.  Then plate it up!Put a small amount on a plate.  Add a spoonful of sauce on top.  You can add some freshly grated cheese if you like—Parmigiano-Reggiano or Romano—and…MANGIAMO!!!! 

Slim Man Cooks Pasta Carbonara

Pasta Carbonara with Normy and Sam at OdessaIt was by far the biggest paying gig ever offered to the Slim Men. Not only that, but the promoter was going to put us up in a nice hotel, and buy us all dinner and drinks at the club after the show.The club was called Odessa. It was a fine-dining, elegant nightclub/restaurant in Laguna Beach, California. Swanky.Because it was so swanky and brand spanking new, and because they were paying us a lot of do-re-mi, we decided to pull out all the stops. We invited some guest soloists — guitarist Richard Smith and trumpet player Tony Guerrero.We made sure our shoes were shined, and our suits were pressed, and our wigs were in place. Showtime!John E Coale was on drums. The keyboard player that night was David Bach — it was one of his first shows with us. Mombo Hernandez played percussion. It was crowded, a good turnout of Slim People. Odessa had a 1960s supper-club vibe. Well-dressed guests sat at well-dressed tables and enjoyed dinner as they watched the show. We were scheduled to do two 1-hour sets.We did the first set. We sounded OK — we were just starting to catch our stride when we had to take a break to do a drawing. In between sets, they had scheduled a drawing for dinner with the band after the show. They brought a big fishbowl filled with tickets up to the stage. I picked a number from the bowl and called it out to the crowd. There was a short silence. A guy stood up. He didn’t yell or scream. He just stood up and sauntered to the stage.He was tall and thin, with blond hair. He was dressed casually, and had a loopy grin. He showed me his ticket. He had the winning number. So this guy and his guest were gonna join us for the post-concert dinner and celebration, a little after-party slurp and chew.The Slim Dudes went back on stage and did our second set. There were a couple of rough spots. At one point, Richard Smith came up to me after playing guitar on a couple of songs and said,“Nice trying to play with you.”But the Slim Men pulled it together. The crowd seemed to enjoy themselves. Nobody threw anything at us and nobody left. After the show, we walked over to the restaurant area of the club. They had a huge table set for us. Each setting had more forks and knives than anyone would ever need. I sat next to the couple who won the dinner drawing. It turned out to be quite a conversation.Normy was kinda quiet, and kinda quirky. His wife, Sam, was sweet with a quick smile.Normy and I started talking, and he told me that he made clay models for Porsche. Clay models are what they use to create the shells for the bodies of actual cars. And Normy worked with the designers making new Porsche sports cars. I’d been to the Porsche factory in Stuttgart, Germany. I did a private party there. Normy and I talked about sports cars, clay models, Porsche, Stuttgart, horsepower and how Normy did what he did. It was an intriguing conversation.We ordered food. We got appetizers. We got soups. We got salads. We drank more than a few bottles of wine. We had main courses. We had desserts. We had after-dinner drinks.It must have been around midnight when the waitress – who had been working so hard all night – gave me the bill. I was kinda embarrassed, but I told her that the promoter was picking up the tab. She told me the promoter was nowhere to be found.I got up, and started looking around the club; in front, out back, the men’s room, the ladies’ room, under tables, in the kitchen - I looked everywhere. I called him. I called the hotel. I sent out smoke signals, helicopters, and drones. Promoter dude had vanished.So I took out the old credit card, and prayed that the cops wouldn’t leap out of the woodwork and arrest me on the spot when it got declined. The wine alone must have cost a thousand bucks. Twelve courses for twelve people in a place like that? I was just hoping I wouldn’t have to wash dishes for the rest of my life.My card went through. I didn’t want to chance it with a tip, so we gathered some cash, and gave it to the waitress.We left the club that night a bit weary, kinda dreary, somewhat embarrassed, and a lot lighter in the wallet. We went to our hotel rooms and crashed. The next day, I was checking us all out of the hotel, and discovered the promoter had not paid for the rooms. Ouch.He never sent me the money he owed, and it was a lot. I never heard from him again. I ended up paying the band anyway. It was a huge loss, but…Normy and Sam have become good friends of mine. I’ve seen them at least a couple times a year for the past 15 years. We talk on the phone a couple times a month.They came to Catalina Island a few years ago to see the Slim Man Band at the Jazz Fest. We went out afterwards, and Normy had quite a few festive beverages. In his defense, Catalina doesn’t allow cars, people walk everywhere, so everyone tends to drink a bit more than usual. We were playing pool at a local bar when Normy started shouting at the band,“I LOVE YOU GUYS! I MEAN IT! I REALLY LOVE YOU GUYS!”He kept saying it; over and over, louder and louder. Quiet Norm was so loud and boisterous, that we ended up leaving the pool hall - after some encouragement from the staff and patrons. We walked on to the small streets of Catalina and Normy kept on yelling,“REALLY! I’M NOT JUST SAYING THIS!! I REALLY LOVE YOU GUYS! REALLY!”Sweet Sam finally dragged him back to his hotel room, screaming “I LOVE YOU!” all the way.The next morning, the Slim Man Band had breakfast with Normy and Sam. Normy was unusually quiet, turning whiter shades of pale with each bite. We quietly told him we really loved him, too. Really. To this day, when we see him, that’s what we say.Normy and Sam pop up a couple times a year at Slim Shows. They don’t ask to be put on the guest list. They don’t call in advance. It’s always a pleasant surprise when they show up. They usually manage to stay in whatever hotel the band is staying.Two weeks ago, I was in Palm Springs, California. Normy and Sam came out to see me play at a super swanky hotel called The Riviera.   We had dinner that night after the show. We partied in the hotel room after dinner, drinking wine and whatnot.We had a wonderful time.Here’s the thing - I would never have met Normy and Sam if it weren’t for the Odessa gig.Sure, I lost a ton of dough. But would you trade two good friends for ten grand?Let me think about that one…PASTA CARBONARAIf you’ve been through a tough time, and you need a “What the hell, might as well” sauce, have I got a dish for you.I eat pasta carbonara a couple times a year. Any more than that and you’ll have to walk around with a defibrillator duct-taped to your chest.It’s a heart-stoppin’, artery poppin’ dish, but it’s one of my favorites. As soon as you try it, it’ll be one of your favorites too! This is my own version. I added white wine, which gives it a little kick.I use Parmigiano-Reggiano cheese. Most recipes call for Romano, which I find a little too salty for this dish. So I use Parmigiano, which is a little sweeter.The name ‘carbonara’ comes from the Italian word for coal, carbona. Legend has it that coal miners would put a couple of eggs, a piece of pancetta (Italian bacon) and a hunk of cheese in their pockets, and make this dish on their lunch break, using just one pot.Putting eggs in your pocket doesn’t sound like a good idea to me, especially if you’re mining, but what the hell do I know?INGREDIENTS3 eggs1 cup fresh grated Parmigiano-Reggiano cheese2 tablespoons fresh Italian flat leaf parsley, chopped8 ounces pancetta, diced into small cubesCrushed red pepper (I start off with ¼ teaspoon)4 cloves of garlic, peeled, and smashed/flattened with the broad side of a knife¼ cup white wine1 pound of spaghettiKosher salt and fresh cracked black pepperHere we go…We’ll do this all in real time.Get a large pot. Fill it with cold water. Put it on the highest heat. This is for the pasta. As it heats up…Get a large bowl, one big enough to hold all the pasta and other goodies.Break the eggs into the bowl. Add the cheese. Add the chopped parsley. Add some fresh cracked black pepper.Beat all this goodness with a fork. Now let’s cook our pancetta.Pancetta is Italian bacon. So treat it like bacon. Don’t be flippin’ it all around. You want it to brown on each side. It’s tough to brown pancetta that’s been diced, but you can try!Get a small sauté pan. Put it over medium heat. Put the diced pancetta in. Let it cook until it's brown, about 4 minutes.Flip it over, give it a stir, and cook until it's brown on the other side, about 4 minutes.When the pancetta is done, turn off the heat, and use a slotted spoon to get it out of the pan. Put the pancetta in a small bowl and set aside.You should have some pancetta drippings left in the bottom of the pan. You’ll need about a tablespoon to cook the garlic. Get rid of the rest.Put the pan on medium-low heat.Add the crushed red pepper and the smashed garlic, cook 2 minutes until the garlic is golden and turn it over. Cook for 2 minutes more.Turn the heat to high. Add the wine; let it cook off for a minute or 2 while stirring. Turn off the heat.Now back to the pasta…When the pasta water comes to a boil, add a couple tablespoons of kosher salt.   Add the pasta.Follow the cooking instructions on the pasta box. Two minutes before the pasta is supposed to be done, take a piece and bite into it. Look at the center of the pasta. If it looks chalky, it is not done. Check the pasta every 2 minutes. It might take longer than the instructions say. When the pasta is al dente, not chalky or chewy, drain it well.IMMEDIATELY put the pasta into the bowl with the eggs and cheese and parsley. You want the heat from the pasta to cook the eggs. Add the garlic and white wine from the small sauté pan. Toss gently. Add the cooked pancetta, and toss gently.Dish it up! Garnish with a piece of parsley, and…MANGIAMO!!!!!

Slim Man Cooks Chicken Piccata

Chicken Piccata and Hobnobbin’ with Slim Slimski

Follow a transvestite while he/she shops for clothes. Go to an underground tattoo parlor, get a tattoo, then go to a dermatologist and get it removed with a laser.Those are just a few of the episodes we did for a TV show called Hobnobbin’ With Slim Slimski.Rei Spinnicchio was the director. He was the cameraman. He was also the editor, the light guy, the sound guy. He was the guy. The guy behind the camera. I was the guy in front of the camera. It was just the two of us, thinking up wacky segments to shoot.We would then go around our hometown of Baltimore, Maryland, and film these episodes. Most of the stuff was completely spontaneous. Well, we’d make appointments; but what we did when we got there was just run and gun — improvise, see what happens. No script. It was a lot of fun. Nerve-wracking fun.Rei had the idea to follow a transvestite while he/she shopped for clothes. "He" was a man, dressed as a woman. He called himself Marilyn. Most of the clothes shops we visited were in Fells Point, which is a funkified neighborhood deep in the heart of Baltimore. Marilyn seemed to like biker clothes—black leather motorcycle jackets, things like that. A man, dressed as a woman, shopping for biker clothes.In another episode, we went to an underground tattoo parlor. It was in this guy’s kitchen, in his small apartment, in a nasty section of town. Strange-looking folks were waiting around to get tattoos. It wasn’t the cleanest place in the world and he was making some of the most bizarre tattoos I’ve ever seen.Of course, I got one. The tattoo guy asked me what I wanted. I asked for a simple heart with “Mom” in the middle, on the inside of my forearm.I got tattooed. The guy didn’t use any ink—he must have run out! So I felt the pain, but got no stain. It didn’t hurt as much as I thought it would. Even without the ink, you could clearly see the tattoo. The skin was raised and red and it looked like I had been branded with a branding iron.I showed my Mom and she thought it was real. Then she hit me in the head with a frying pan.Just kidding. How could she be mad? I got “Mom” tattooed on my arm!I went to the dermatologist soon after to see what it was like to get a tattoo removed. I wasn’t the first in line. There was a woman before me who wanted to get a big eagle tattoo removed from her chest. She was complaining that the wings of the eagle looked like chest hair when she wore low-cut shirts.The dermatologist let Rei and I sit in on her tattoo removal. We all had to wear special goggles, so the laser wouldn’t fry our eyeballs. We looked like mad scientists. The doctor placed the laser pen on her tattoo and zapped. She flinched, like she’d just been Tasered. He put the pen back on the tattoo and zapped. She flinched again. He’d zap, she’d flinch, dozens of times - it went on way too long, like a torture session. She looked like she was having some kind of strange conniptions every couple seconds.Rei and I were filming and watching all this play out with our mad scientist goggles on. I wanted to jump in, wave the white flag, blow the whistle, toss in the towel, call off the dogs.The doctor finally relented. The woman got out of her chair. The tattoo was still visible. Doctor Dude told us that a tattoo that big and dark would need a couple of sessions to remove. The gal didn’t look too happy. Plus, she had to pay for all this. She zombie-walked out of there.I sat down in the chair. The doctor revved up the laser and zapped me. It didn’t hurt as much as the time I got my genitalia caught in my zipper, but it was close. The laser hurt more than getting the tattoo. After a bunch of zaps, my skin was on fire. I would have confessed to anything, just to make it stop.No wonder that poor woman was flailing around like that.For another episode of Hobnobbin’ With Slim Slimski, we went to the Timonium Fairgrounds for the 4H festival. 4H stands for Head, Heart, Health, and Hands. It’s a collection of young folks trying to improve urban, suburban and rural communities.I walked into a large barn, with Rei following and filming. Some of these young folks were demonstrating how to milk a cow.I like farm animals. They look OK from a distance. But I’ve never felt the strong urge to get real close to any of them, let alone start mangling their mammaries. The cow they wanted me to milk was named Leslie. Really.I walked up to Leslie and sat down on a stool by her rear legs. She turned her huge head around and stared me up and down with these big dark eyeballs. I looked her in the eye, and then looked down at her udders and…It was a little too soon for me. Call me old-fashioned, but I think it’s more appropriate to go out on a few dates, have some drinks, get to know a female before you start yanking on her breastages.Then Leslie winked. I think she liked me. I liked her, too. But sadly, that was the end of our relationship. I walked away, knowing I did the honorable thing.The highlight of the 4H festival was Rei following me around, cameras rolling, as I walked among the fairgrounds, checking out the games; you know the kind - games where you throw a hardball and try to knock down some pins, or you try to shoot a basketball into a hoop a million times in a row or you throw darts at balloons or toss Ping-Pong balls into small gold fish bowls.If you win, they give you prizes, like huge stuffed animals. Those kinds of games.As we were checking out the games, I walked by a dunking booth. Let me explain the dunking booth. A guy sits in a chair over a pool of water. There is a target over his head. You buy three hardballs, and if you hit the target, the guy gets dunked in the water.This guy was hurling insults at people as they passed by. Calling people all kinds of nasty names. As I walked by, the guy got quiet. Then, all of a sudden I heard…“Hey, you! Donkey Face!”That’s what he said. Donkey Face. I kept walking. I had long hair in a ponytail. The guy kept shouting,“Hey you! Donkey Face! With the ponytail! You can’t cut off that pony tail ‘cause it goes with your donkey head!”That’s what he said.I stopped walking.“That’s right! Donkey Face! I’m talkin’ to YOU! Uno, dos, tres, come on, hit me Donkey Face!”He kept chanting.“Uno, dos, tres, come on, hit me Donkey Face!!”A crowd started to gather. That made him scream louder.“Uno, dos, tres, come on, hit me Donkey Face!”I calmly walked over to the booth and bought three balls. He kept chanting. I reared my arm back and threw as hard as I could. I nailed the target with the first throw. Bulls-eye. He fell in the water with a huge splash.But the damage was done. When my friends and family saw that video footage, they didn’t say, “That’s not funny. That guy was way out of line. Glad you nailed him.”No. Instead, they started calling me Donkey Face. Not behind my back. Right in front of my face. Friends, band members, and family. My own father called me Donkey Face.Not all the time.Just most of the time.Rei and I pitched the Hobnobbin’ with Slim Slimski TV show around to whoever would look. We had a couple of people interested. And then, suddenly nothing happened. I guess we were way ahead of our time. Again.CHICKEN SLIMMATA PICCATAAfter clothes shopping with a transvestite, there’s nothing like a home-cooked meal. This dish is perfect after a long day at work.I began with 3 large boneless, skinless chicken breasts that were a little too thick for this dish. So I cut them in half, and it worked out fine.INGREDIENTS6 chicken cutlets, each about 1/2 inch thick½  cup flourSalt and pepper2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil2 tablespoons butter¼ cup white wine½ cup chicken broth2 tablespoons fresh squeezed lemon juice (no seeds!)2 tablespoons capersA few sprigs of parsley for garnishHere we go…Heat your oven to warm (the lowest setting).Rinse off your chicken breasts and pat dry with a paper towel.Put the flour on a flat plate. Add salt and fresh cracked black pepper.Take a chicken cutlet, put it in the flour. Turn it over. Make sure both sides are lightly coated. Shake off any excess flour.Repeat with all 6 pieces of chicken.Put the oil and butter in a large sauté pan over medium heat. When the butter starts to bubble, put the chicken in the pan.Cook for 3 minutes or until golden brown on the underside. Use your tongs and turn them over.Cook for 3 minutes on the other side. Check for doneness. If done, place them on a plate and set them in a warm oven. If not, cook for another minute or so until done, then place them in the oven.Turn the heat on the empty sauté pan to medium-high. Add the white wine and stir and scrape (deglaze the pan) for a minute or so.Add the chicken broth and capers. Cook while stirring for a minute or two.Add the lemon juice and cook and stir for a minute or two.Take your breasts out of the warm oven. Place them on a nice platter. Pour a little sauce over each breast, garnish with lemon and parsley, 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.Ingredients2 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 packedKosher saltHere we go…Put the tomatoes in a large bowl.Smoosh, yes, smoosh the tomatoes with your hands.  Don’t be afraid, dig in and squeeze your tomatoes, it’s fun.  There’s a small, bitter yellow core that needs to be removed. Also, get rid of any tomato skins, stems or other funky stuff that doesn’t look like it belongs.Put your olive oil in a large sauté pan over medium heat.Put in the garlic and the crushed red pepper.   Sauté a couple minutes until the garlic is pale gold.  Stir occasionally. Don’t burn your garlic! It tastes really bitter when burned.Add your tomatoes.  Turn the heat on high.Grab half the basil leaves, and snip with scissors (or tear into small pieces by hand) right into the sauce.Add salt to taste.When the sauce comes to a boil, reduce to medium-low heat, and simmer for about 25 minutes.  Stir it every few minutes.After 25 minutes, take the remaining basil leaves, and snip into the sauce.  Stir it up.Remove from heat.  Taste for salt and pepper and adjust, if needed.MANGIAMO!!