Recipes for Life (33 page)

Our room had a charming balcony, overlooking the water and Venice across the way. The day we arrived, we were sitting outside when Yanni was suddenly enchanted by the most beautiful song. It was coming from a sweet little bird that had landed on a nearby tree. Yanni has perfect pitch, so he was able to replicate the bird’s song. Soon, the two were serenading one another; it was a truly magical moment.

What was really amazing is that this was not a one-time affair: every morning, coffee in hand, Yanni went out on the balcony to rendezvous with his Italian girlfriend, and the two would make beautiful music together. I would have been jealous if I wasn’t enjoying it so much.

When it was finally time to leave, Yanni went out to say good-bye, but sadly, for the first time, she wasn’t there. I could tell Yanni was really disappointed, as was I. But we had a plane to catch, so we couldn’t wait around any longer, and hurried down to the dock to take the launch back to Venice.

As we were boarding the motorboat, I could see him stalling, looking around, still hoping. Then, suddenly we heard her sweet song. His little bird was perched on a branch, singing her good-bye. I wasn’t the only one with tears in my eyes.

When he returned home to the States, Yanni composed a song using her melody and then he performed it for the first time at his concert in
China’s Forbidden City. The song, which he named “Nightingale,” always touches my heart, as does the memory of them in Venice.

I love things that I can make ahead and don’t have to assemble until the last minute. This salad is elegant and quick—the only thing that takes time is roasting and peeling the peppers. I like to use peppers in different colors: look for red, orange, and yellow.

3 bell peppers

6 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil

2½ tablespoons red wine vinegar

⅛ teaspoon garlic clove, minced

2 teaspoons or more to taste anchovy paste

1 pound tomatoes, matching the size with the mozzarella balls

3 (4-ounce) balls fresh mozzarella, sliced ¼-inch thick or 6 (2-ounce) balls

Fresh basil leaves, to taste

12 kalamata olives

Place the peppers on a baking sheet and broil until the tops become charred. Turn and continue charring until they are slightly blackened all over. Remove from the broiler and wrap in a damp towel (or close them in a paper bag) until cooled.

When cool, peel the peppers and cut in two, lengthwise. Core and seed the peppers, and then cut them in half again so that each pepper makes four large slices. Place the peppers in a shallow glass dish.

Combine the olive oil, vinegar, garlic, and anchovy paste to make the dressing. After mixing the dressing extremely well with a wire whisk, pour half over the peppers, allowing the peppers to marinate for 6 to 8 hours. After marinating, remove the peppers and arrange two slices each on individual plates.

Remove the core from the tomatoes and cut a thin slice off the opposite end; discard. Then slice the tomatoes into ¼-inch-thick slices and arrange on the plates, alternating between the peppers (two slices per plate).

Next, drain the mozzarella cheese and pat dry with paper towels. Cut the mozzarella into ¼-inch-thick slices. Place one slice on each tomato slice.

Julienne the basil leaves into thin, ⅛-inch-thick ribbons. Scatter the cut basil leaves on top of each tomato/mozzarella combination, to taste.

Add salt and pepper to taste to the arrangement, then drizzle some of the remaining dressing on top. Garnish with two olives per plate and serve at room temperature.

I
HAD RECEIVED
a wonderful invitation to speak in front of hundreds of women at a convention in Anaheim, California. Greeny insisted it was a great opportunity and that I should do it in spite of my terror. I can’t even count the number of times Bunky has had to drag me out from under the covers on my bed to accept an award that was given to me for
Dynasty
. “Get up” she’d say. “You have to do this!” And she’d push me to the mirror to get myself together. I had been working at RSE on a discipline to help me overcome my fear of public speaking and I decided to accept the invitation. Maybe some of the work I had been doing was starting to sink in, I tried to convince myself.

I flew down to LA a few days early to be with Yanni. I loved staying with him in his house in Laurel Canyon. We mostly ordered takeout so we could have more time to sit together and talk. Bacon-wrapped shrimp with pesto and a crispy cheese pizza in a wood-fired oven—perfect every time. I was having such a great time with Yanni that the nervous thing I usually had proceeding a public appearance wasn’t there. “Oh,” I thought, “Love makes everything better!”

Mike and Bunky picked me up midmorning. I could sense her watching me to see how I was doing. In typical Bunky fashion, she made me laugh all the way there.

As I was about to go onstage, I was surprised how calm I felt. They introduced me and I began talking about my life and the lessons I’ve learned, the insecurities and doubts that we all have as women, despite how successful we are or appear to be.

Halfway through my speech I was in the zone. You would need a hook to get me off the stage. I was loving it.

Then, in a flash of light, I saw myself in a discipline at RSE where I had left behind my past and reinvented myself to be able to do what I was now doing.

I was so overwhelmed with joy, I started to cry. I realized in that moment that nothing is carved in stone. Attitudes, painful memories, it could all be given up in a moment. I was in awe of the potential of the mind. Of course, the audience had no idea what I was going through or why I was suddenly smiling and crying, but when I explained how I’d just overcome my fear of public speaking, they burst into applause.

That day I started my public speaking career. It’s now one of the most rewarding things I do.

M
Y RELATIONSHIP WITH
Yanni opened doors to the world of music that I would never have entered. I was privileged to witness his entire creative process, from watching him compose his music, to recording for months in the studio, and, finally, to performing before live audiences around the world. What a magical ride. No matter how many performances I sat through, year after year, I was spellbound.

His music seemed to bridge all ages. The young and the old were on their feet applauding every night. Everyone, including me, left the theater uplifted.

I watched this beautiful, creative man also take on the business end of producing his concerts, an enormous task when it came to performing his music in Greece at the Acropolis, India at the Taj Mahal, and China in the Forbidden City.

No relationship ends without some warnings, and again, like most people, I tried my best to ignore them for as long as I could. Yanni was consumed with making his concerts unforgettable. I knew when I met him that his music would come first. It was a mistress I could live with.

But as time went on, it became his music along with performing, promoting, and producing. He was exhausted and stretched to the limit. I’d always admired his ability to work endlessly for something he loved and was passionate about. After nine years, somehow our relationship got lost in the journey. But I wouldn’t have missed what we shared together for the world.

O
NE OF THE
times my stepdaughter Sean had flown in from LA to visit me at Villa Madera, I decided to make us a special dinner (for once she wasn’t on a diet). I wanted to surprise her and make her favorite dessert: apple pie.

Villa Madera had an elegant formal dining room, but I loved having dinners in the library, with its rich dark wood paneling and shelves filled with handcrafted leather-bound books. For these more intimate dinners, I found a small round table that fit perfectly in front of the fireplace.

Once I’d selected a menu of some of her favorite dishes, I decided to try a new apple cider pie recipe that I had recently discovered that sounded outrageously delicious. Since Sean and I were visiting, I asked Nena to make the pie for us.

We shared a wonderful meal and then Nena came in with a big smile on her face carrying her beautiful, picture-perfect pie. She cut Sean a big piece and stepped back to proudly watch her take the first bite. And as she did, Sean’s eyes squinted and her face scrunched up like a prune. Then she turned away to spit (as politely as possible) into her napkin.

Nena and I stared at her in shock. I didn’t understand how she couldn’t love it. “Taste it!” Sean said. I did and instantly I was puckering and squinting, too, but I now knew why. Nena had used apple cider vinegar instead of apple cider. If that wasn’t enough, the recipe called for boiling down cups of cider into a syrupy consistency, which made the vinegar flavor and punch even more intense. It turns out Nena had never heard of apple cider, only apple cider vinegar.

We all started laughing, because the joke was that Sean was still on a diet, since the pretty pie was inedible.

Nena, making her magic.

Here’s the recipe!

FOR CRUST:

2½ cups all-purpose flour

1 teaspoon kosher salt

1 teaspoon sugar

4 ounces (1 stick) unsalted butter, chilled and cut into pieces