Remember reaching the tennis ball hanging on a string and you knew you were finally tall enough to go on that ride?  I never reached it.  Not ever.  Really.

But, I don’t want to talk about my short stature.  I do, however, want to talk about my extra-small feet.  They are not very attractive; the toes are all the same length, appearing as if I might have had a run in with a paper cutter in art class.  Turned on yet?  If you have a foot fetish and love that Chinese bound foot look, then I’m your gal.  Oh, and to make matters worse, for most of my life, into my 40’s, I bit my own toenails.  Like a circus contortionist, I could (and did) pull my whole foot up to my mouth to tear away at a nail.  Mmmm, delicious story so far?  You bet. I’m just setting the stage.

I was a drummer, not that great of a drummer, but nonetheless, I played the snare and bass and all.  Remember the song “Wipe Out?”

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W5D07c0dJuQ

I can play that on the drums, but that’s not what I’m known for.  Oh, NO.  At parties, I was often asked to play it – but without using my hands.  I can still do it, it makes for a great show … if you’re into 59-year old women riffing classic drum solos with their feet.  I usually waited until about the third date with a man before revealing my Wipe Out stupid human trick.

Shoes were always a real problem.  It wasn’t funny.  When all my friends were all fitting into sexy heels, I was wearing shoes from the kids department.  Nothing stylish to be found.  Then, one day in high school, my dad announced he was taking me to a famous shoe and boot maker named Di Fabrizio.  It was all so exotic and specialized.  He had a heavy Italian accent and reminded me of Pinocchio’s dad Gepetto.  He took all my measurements.  I was thrilled.  Even more thrilled the day I put those soft, brown leather knee-high boots with a perfect small heel on that fit me so precisely.  I didn’t take them off for the next few years.  I’m not exaggerating.  Wherever they live today, those brown boots have plenty of secrets to tell.

http://www.seeing-stars.com/shop/Shoemaker.shtml#.UJ_Ma46fOfQ

When I was a high school senior and wanted to go to the prom, I designed my own outfit, but instead of my mother sewing it, which was our usual, my dad sent me to a high-class, cater-to-the-stars wardrobe designer to execute it.  I picked out my emerald green seersucker fabric with white Swiss dots.  The skirt had three tiers.  The top was a Renaissance-style puffed sleeve that had elastic at my wrist and then a very long bell that fell across my hands.  The front of the top had strings crisscrossing my whole chest down to my waist, opening seductively all the way to my nipples and down to my belly button.  Hot.  One of a kind.  Needed a nice shoe with a heel.  And not my over worn Di Fabrizio boots.  I went to the only place that carried my sorry size.  Cinderella shoe store on Wilshire, in very far east Beverly Hills.  I purchased a size 3-shoe that actually looked like a glass slipper.  It needed something more.  So, I painted small green daisies across the see-through vinyl toe area that matched my dress.  It was the piece de resistance.  Except, I then needed a tan.  So, off to Palm Springs with my friend Sherry to catch the better rays.  In her fast, blue, shiny Porche, to her grandparents house in the desert.  It rained that day and after four hours in a car, we were back in L.A.  Our goal was to get a tan and a tan we would still achieve.  I called my dad because I knew he was a friend of Jack LaLanne’s.  Random, I know.  But I knew his club had these ultra violet ray machines that could give us our color.  My dad made a call, and we went, pretending to try the club out.  We used those prehistoric (standing up, not lying down) tanning beds and then we made it to our prom. I wore a wreath I’d made of fresh flowers with Baby’s Breath.  I promptly took off those shoes to dance the night away and perform my “Wipe Out” trick for my fans, I mean friends.

In honor of Pasquale Di Fabrizio, here is a recipe you might like from the region of Italy he was from, the Campania Region.  Keep scrolling, sorry there is a tech problem.

Spaghetti alle Vongole

Spaghetti with clams is a Neapolitan classic. It uses fresh clams and just a few other ingredients to flavor the dish. Forget the image you might have of overcooked noodles drenched in thick tomato sauce with a few clams swimming in it; this is a light and tasty dish bursting with fresh clams. There’s no cream or butter, either, so it’s a healthy plate of pasta, too! There is debate about whether or not to add a few fresh tomatoes; many Neapolitans swear it’s the “right” way, others insist that “in bianco” (white) sauce is the real deal. In short, it’s a matter of taste! In Campania, they use baby clams known as “veraci” which might be hard to find where you live. Just get the smallest ones you can find. Frozen clams are okay, too (but don’t tell that to a Neapolitan!)

Spaghetti alle Vongole (Spaghetti with Clams)

INGREDIENTS:

1 kilo (about 2 pounds) of fresh baby clams
2 cloves garlic, minced
a dash or two of red chile flakes
1 cup white wine
a handful of parsley, minced
1 pound (about 400 grams) spaghetti or linguini

PREPARATION:

If the clams haven’t already been cleaned, you’ll need to soak them in heavily-salted water for a couple of hours to clean out the grit. Drain and rinse them well.

In a pan large enough to hold the clams heat the olive oil and lightly saute the garlic, red chile flakes and about half the parsley until garlic begins to color. (You can also add 6-8 quartered cherry tomatoes if you wish.) Add the wine and bring to a boil. Add the clams, cover, and cook until they open up, about 10 minutes.

Meanwhile, bring a large pot of water to a boil and cook the linguini or spaghetti until al dente. Drain and return to the pot. Add the clams and wine, drizzle on a bit of olive oil, and sprinkle in the parsley, tossing it all well. Serve.

Tags: biting toe nails, chicks who can play drums with their feet, Cinderella shoes, designing dresses in the 70's, fredde duke, girl drummers, Jack La Lanne's sport club in santa monica, Pasquale Di Fabrizio boots, Porche cars in the early 70's, proms, recipe for Spaghetti alle Vongole, shoemaker to the stars Di Fabrizio, wipe out with my feet not drum sticks

This entry was posted on Monday, November 12th, 2012 at 12:21 pm and is filed under Recipes. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.