Cooking In The Key of
C-Sharp
He realized that I really got it,
empirically… and fast. As the giver of
those gifts, he expressed delight at
my adeptness in the assimilation of his
brief but impressionable lesson.
He seemed happy to play the role
of mentor for such an eager student.
Miles certainly observed the immensity
of my gratitude and excitement about
the new and creative wings that he
had imparted, wings I now deployed
taking flight far beyond my previous
boundaries and limitations. This set
a foundation that established and
solidified our nine-year collaboration.
On this day and during most of our
time to follow, we related as convivial
major third intervals… like the first
three notes of the Sesame Street theme
song— no dissonance—only harmony.
Next I learned the other reason Miles
asked me to come over early in advance
of the other musicians. I had no idea that
we would collaborate on another project
that day, completely unrelated to music.
Or I should say, at the time, I thought it
was unrelated. Miles said to me;
“So Bobby, I hear you cook a mean
dirty-rice with smelts.”
“Wow Miles… how did you know
about that?”
“Vince and Randy told me all about
you in the kitchen. So what do you
need to cook your dish?”
“Well, I start with brown rice and while
the rice is boiling, I sauté the onions,
garlic, mushrooms, celery, green and
red bell pepper. Then I add some diced
carrots, broccoli and corn. After that,
I put the cooked rice on top and mix
it all in. And I season it with soy sauce
and a little cayenne pepper.”
“What kind of oil do you use?” he asked.
“Olive oil or sometimes peanut oil.”
“That’s good,” he said. “What about the
smelts… how (do) you prepare them?”
14
“Oh yeah, I clean’um, remove the bone,
open’um up and marinate them in
balsamic vinegar. Then I batter’um
in cornmeal, add oil on top and bake
them on a cookie sheet. Sometimes
I’ll add some garlic and onion on top.
After they’re done, I squeeze some
lime and add a little cayenne too.
They come out like they’ve been fried.”
BRN-FALL-2013.indb 14
Whenever the band rehearsed at Randy’s
basement in Chicago, the group
would buy the groceries so that I could
cook what became, my signature meal.
I smiled, surprised that Miles knew
about my passion for cooking.
“Damn that sounds good Bobby… I’ll
show you my little secret trick that’ll
make the fish melt in your mouth.”
“Wow, I can’t wait!”
“Here’s a hundred dollar bill,” he said,
handing me the c-note. “I’ll call the
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