What Steve Carrell, Tina Fey and The Second City Taught Me About Cooking

Before I embarked on my career as a full-time writer - or as my friends would snidely put it: "creatively unemployed" - I spent several decades doing inner-city youth work. Which means that I spent a lot of time with guidance counselors, teachers, coaches, pastors, and many a frustrated parent trying to come up with ways to make a difference in kids’ lives.

At times it was grueling. Sometimes even discouraging.

And many times supremely rewarding.

Like the times when we did things together that none of us could've done alone.

Like when me, 15 to 20 teenagers, and a handful of adult volunteers would take those whirlwind trips to Chicago. To eat in world-class restaurants. Roam through the Art Institute and the Museum of Contemporary Art. Attend plays at the Steppenwolf and Touchstone Theaters. And take improv classes at the Second City.

Yep. To see the likes of Steve Carrell, Tina Fey, Scott Adsit and others before they 'made it big.' To run into them afterwards in the deli across the street and tell them how much we enjoyed the show. And to take improv classes where we were all taught a great lesson: to learn to say "Yes, and..." rather than "No, but..."

Let me explain.

Many of us believe that we're funny when we put down someone else. Or we respond to someone else's joke by trying to outshine them with a different joke of our own. That doesn't work in improv where teamwork is the rule of the day. When someone starts a sketch, the others on stage don't respond with a completely new idea ("No, but..." thinking), they respond by building on the original idea ("Yes, and..." thinking).

For instance, Actor One might start the sketch off by saying: "This ballet performance is the best I've seen in ages."

Actor Two says: "No, we're not at the ballet. We're at the zoo."

Don't you just feel the air being sucked out of the room?

There's a tug of war. One actor might win. One won't. But it's the audience that will be the real losers.

Now compare it to this:

Actor One says: "This ballet performance is the best I've seen in ages."

Actor Two says: "Yeah, but whose idea was it to use real camels?"

You see the difference? The ballet and the zoo ideas merge and create new possibilities. Both actors win and the sketch may move in a direction that neither of them anticipated. And the true winners? The audience.

And this is how I often cook. When I read a recipe I rarely ever say, "No, but..." Instead, I take what's offered and build on it with a "Yes, and..."

I found a recipe for pork tenderloin the other night. It sounded good, but not great. Rather than toss it ("No, but...") I decided to give it a shot with some tweaking ("Yes, and...). So I built upon a good foundation and expanded on it by adding to the marinade and creating a sauce to finish it off.

Both my guests and I were the richer for it.

So go ahead, pull out those cookbooks. Even mine. But feel free to use them as suggestions and build on them.

And once you get it down in the kitchen, feel free to apply the "Yes, and..." philosophy to other parts of your life.

I have. I believe it's not only made me a better cook, but a better human being as well.

Can I get a "Yes, and..."?

As American as Mom and Apple Pie

I love Mother's Day.

It is truly a holiday that celebrates the heroes of our age (or any age for that matter).

Not to take away anything from July 4th, Veteran's Day and Memorial Day. I know that I would probably not be writing this if it weren't for the brave American men and women who paid the ultimate price for my freedom.

Heck, without them we all might've found ourselves working in a non-air conditioned plant for a dollar a month adding melamine and other toxins to baby formula for the health and economic well-being of The State.

Well...At least the males of The State since so many females, and yes, future moms, are aborted (for the good of The State, of course). Can you say, "Nice revolution you got going there, Chairman Mao."? Hmm...I knew you could.

So yes. I salute those great men and women - past and present - who guarantee our freedom.

But the truth of the matter is: most of us would not even be here if it weren't for moms.

"Wait," I hear some of you saying. "Don't you mean all of us wouldn't be here if it weren't for moms?"

Perhaps. Except that I have a few friends who, in spite of their loud cries of denial, have questionable pedigrees.

Don't believe me? Then you haven't met my friend Alan.

But back to moms.

Here's the deal: Moms put up with a lot.

Think about it.

Our moms cleaned up all the crap in our diapers when we were little ones. And most moms have been cleaning up our crap ever since. I know my mom has.

When my dad was murdered back in 1976, my mom went on to start several successful businesses and helped put three of us through college. One of us went on to be an accountant. One a teacher. And one a dreamer.

I'll let you sort out who was who.

And even though she felt that I would've been a great lawyer, flying a desk just isn't in my genes - the genes that she herself and my dad passed down to me (I couldn't picture either of them flying a desk).

No. Instead of flying a desk, I chose to fly by the seat of my pants. Which, incidentally, is not something one should list under "Applicable Skills" when typing up a resume'. Trust me on that one.

Anyway, my mom has supported me both spiritually and financially throughout my years of successful self-employment and self-unemployment. I am highly skilled at both. It's even on my resume'.

So here's to moms.

My first cookbook was dedicated to my wife. The next cookbook will go out to my mom.

And if you don't have a book that you can dedicate to your mom, stop by and tell her you love her with some flowers and an apple pie.

I know she'll love it.

And if she's like my mom, she'll even offer to clean up the mess.

God bless moms!

How to be Clairvoyant. And a Damn Good Cook, Too.

I recently found out that Robbie Robertson released a new album, “How to Be Clairvoyant.”

Somehow, I knew that was coming.

Now...Do I still need to buy the album?

Anyway, I’ve been a fan since he was in The Band which, by the way, goes down in the annals of history as one of the best obvious names of all time. Right up there with “The Greatest” (Muhammad Ali), “She who must be obeyed” (Rumpole of the Bailey), “The Restaurant at the End of the World” (Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy), "The Lincoln Memorial" (Washington, DC) and “The Blog Stud” (me).

But even though they had a name that rocked, what rocked more is that their lead singer played the drums. (I can already hear some of my younger readers asking, “What are drums?” To that I reply, “Look it up on Wikipedia.”)

Seriously, Levon Helm was one of the few drummers that could sing lead. (Please folks, don’t cite Ringo.)

So in a brief twinge of nostalgia I watched some clips from The Last Waltz on YouTube and spun some tunes from the Best of The Band on my CD player.

It’s funny how, in spite of the goofy clothes and occasional goofy stage antics, the songs hold up remarkably well. Just ask anyone who has listened to “The Weight”, “Stage Fright” or “The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down.” And we won’t even get into BB King, Cole Porter or Vivaldi. Old is good. Often it is better.

And I find that it also applies to recipes. The good ones stand the test of time. I’m reminded of that every time I crack open a cookbook by Pierre Franey or James Beard. I not only say that because their books hit the shelves 50-some-odd years ago, but also because the recipes they contain were passed on to them from cooks who learned them 50 years or more before them.

The late great theologian and Yale professor Jaroslav Pelikan once said that, “Tradition is the living faith of the dead.” And that traditionalism was “The dead faith of the living.”

In some ways, I think that sentiment applies to cookery. Great cooking has passed the test of time and is worthy to be emulated. Faddish - or "-ism" cuisine is more risky. I’ll give these babies a shot, but I know it’s a gamble. (However, I'm well aware that some of these will find their place in the corpus and canons of cookery. But it will take time.)

So yeah, I'll give the "-isms" a shot. On weeknights, maybe. But when it comes time to presenting an elegant weekend meal to my lover or a group of dear friends? I’m hedging my bets with tradition.

I’ll also throw some Cole Porter, Vivaldi, BB King or The Band on the stereo.

And I predict a good time will be had by all.

I Was Going to Post Something Cute, But...

It's late Sunday night.

This is about the time I post some more blog buffoonery.

But this Sunday night is also when I heard that our Navy Seals took out Bin Laden.

Somehow, posting my thoughts about what I plan to make for breakfast or supper doesn't seem so important.

Instead, join me in giving thanks.

Not so much for the death of another (although evil) human being, but in the fact that perhaps dozens (hundreds? thousands?) of other innocent lives may have been spared by this action.

Join me in raising a glass to the men and women in the armed forces who brought this about.

It's a severe mercy. But it is, indeed, mercy for us all.

God bless, and I'll see you in a few days.