The fish mongers always look at me funny when I ask for just two scallops, but I was just making dinner for one. Seared Sea Scallops on Waldorf Slaw with Ginger Tamarind Sauce. My lady has a habit of always getting the one scallop with a grain of sand in it. I can hear her teeth crunch into it from across the table, on her first bite. She’s like Rapunzel. Wait, Cleopatra? Something about a lumpy bed.

The bigger the better. This is true for monster trucks, tax refunds and scallops. Forget those puny Bay scallops, I want to have to cut my scallop into smaller pieces just to fit it in my mouth. Giant, massive bivalve mollusks. I interviewed a scallop a few weeks back and he had a shocking answer to a relatively easy question: how would you like to die? “On a raft made of cast iron, set afire with clarified butter, drifting on the open sea”. It’s a true story. Bob Dylan told it to me in a hotel bar in Cleavland.

The slaw is a mash-up. Traditional cole slaw with a twist on the classic Waldorf: Red Cabbage, Napa Cabbage, Grated Carrots, Cilantro, Mayo, Apple Cider Vinegar, Honey, Candied Pecans and Sliced Apples. After I mix everything, and check for seasoning, I let it sit on the counter for awhile. The cabbage will release water and change the consistency. I fine tune it again before I plate it.

It’s officially football season. That means two things: 1) I need to buy body paint and shave my chest, 2) I’ll be making a lot of Seven Layer Dip.

It seems like a simple thing, but there are seven ways to screw it up. Let’s start at the bottom: black bean puree. I like Central Market organic black beans. Open the can, pour off some of the liquid and sprinkle in some cumin and cayenne pepper. Then, and here is the exciting part, stick an immersion blender right into the can and hit the ‘go’ button. They go from whole beans to puree in five seconds.

On top of that goes a plume of grated cheddar and salsa (I cheated and used local boys Texas-Texas Salsa). I don’t trust pre-made guacamole, so get out a fork: mashed avocado, jalapeno, lime and diced white onion and tomato. Top if off with a dab of sour cream and minced chives. Now, lets get those horns up.

Wait a second, that’s only six ingredients. Sh#t!

First, get some Hatch chili peppers. Second, build a wood burning oven. Third, light a match. It’s as easy as that. Charred these babies beyond belief. Pulled them out and dropped them into a sealed container to steam the charred skins off. Now, what to do with them?

Give a boy some matches, raw protein, a hunger to char and this is what you get: Rosemary Grilled Pork Tenderloin, Quinoa Goosefoot with a Vermouth Cream Sauce.

I love burning stuff. I think it started when I set fire to a large swath of North Texas. The 1980’s were a heady time  and my Parole Officer has advised me against talking about it. Nowadays I stick to igniting things in the comfort of my own backyard. I refer to them as ‘controlled burns.’

You know the feeling. Sometimes meat doesn’t catch fire fast enough. So, what I do is tie dry, oily sticks to it. In this case, Rosemary. It leaves a nice char and a pleasant flavor.

America in the Summertime. Everyone should be eating burgers. Big, meaty burgers. Unless you don’t eat red meat, then a Tuna burger. Unless you’re Vegan, then some dust and twigs while you wipe your mouth with the American flag.

The masterpiece burger I created this weekend I have named ‘American Patriot Freedom Burger.’ It’s core is ground Bison (American buffalo), which were abundant during our forefathers time before they senselessly exterminated them for their skins, leaving the rest of the animal behind to decay. USA! USA! USA!

Who said the Seventies were for not. I’m Rock’n it old school with Iceberg lettuce. It’s almost not a vegetable. I think it’s more closely related to Funyuns. But I am not hearing any of that. Wonder if this would grow around here? I should try planting some in my Lego garden. (Attention Lego: I thought of it first. If you ever make a Lego garden, I get 16.4% of all sales.)

I have three basic rules for cooking a hamburger: don’t over mix, do over season and don’t poke at it. The first and third rules are similar. The more you mess with it, the more chance you have of something going wrong. Kind of like your hair. The second rule means ’salt and pepper are our friends.’ And, like any friend, you should use them till you can’t stand to be around them anymore. (I can’t believe no one has approached me to write a cookbook.)