When I was growing up, every Sunday night my old man would cook up a fresh batch of sauce...homemade pasta sauce. We are a predominantly Italian family. Both of my old man's parents are second generation Italians; both born in apartments in Boston's North End (Italian section). My mom's mom is a blue blood, but her dad was half German, half English. 

Sundays at our house were the stuff of neighborhood legend. It would start at 10:00am sharp. Those of my buddies who didn't crash at my place after a Saturday night of striking sparks and chasing thigh-high skirts (circa high school years) would show up at my door at 10am on a Sunday morning. We'd set up shop in front of the TV to catch an hour and a half's worth of Three Stooges shorts. When that was over, it was time for ESPN GameDay at 12 Noon. 

Were we ready for some football? Hell, yes. We were ready for some plasma, too. My old man was the Kingpin. He loved hanging with us guys watching football and then cooking for us. My buddies all know "The Sauce" very, very well. Twenty years later, when my old mates go back to Keene, NH they stop at my parents place hoping that my old man has a some of The Sauce in the freezer and that we would be willing to thaw it out and fire up. Nine times out of ten...

My best buddy Gilly (who I gave the Steel Horse to) is practically one of the family. He spent many a Sunday at our place back in the heyday. He and his wife are here in London visiting us. They just took off for an overnight in Paris. I thought it a primetime opportunity to surprise him by whipping up a batch of the old man's sauce recipe. As hard as a I try, I can't replicate the old man's magic, but, in the end, I'm still going to have to wear my father's gun. 

It was usually a dog fight as to what was played first. My mom wanted Tina Turner and my old man wanted Aretha Franklin. They usually settled on common ground...anything from Motown.  The joint jumped, the pots boiled and everyone got their fill (of food and music).

While I was cooking up a storm tonight, I put on a "Home Cookin" playlist.  Music is the secret ingredient to any recipe. I thought I would share my Home Cookin' playlist with you (follow the link for downloads). The next time you are whippin' up some vittles you can whip up a frenzy with these choice cuts. Enjoy...

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When I was thinking up a name for the playlist, "Home Cookin", I thought of one of my fave rave "home" songs: "Feel like Going Home" by Charlie Rich. There is an official release of this song, but in my opinion, it doesn't hold a candle to the demo outtake of it. The emotional tug of this demo version is sinewy and gut-wrenching. It is just Charlie, piano and a truckload of longing. It flat-out kills me every time I listen to it.  

Hot, hot, slow-burning, damn...