Sensual food, soulful songs and short stories

"Bam!" yells Adam Wilson as he throws a pinch of salt into his simmering marinara sauce. "Emeril's my man," the senior grins, adding garlic and basil to the sauce and stirring them in with a frenzied whirl.

"You gotta get into cooking, you know?" Wilson says. "It's your time to play God. He created the world in six days; I can create a mean marinara sauce in six minutes. I guess the main difference between Him and me is that He created women, I just like to get with them." Wiping his hand on his pants and then turning down the heat on his deep tomato-red sauce, Wilson turns with a smile. "Well, you've stepped into my office, so what do you want to know, baby?"

Known by his friends as "Wilson" (there's a Phish song by that name) rather than Adam, the 22 year old has taken his love of cooking beyond his own 'office' -- er, kitchen. Last semester, he and seniors Owen Sidd and Mia Segura created a cooking show for TUTV called "Sunday Night Dinner." The show features the trio creating dishes of all shapes and sizes.

Wilson prepares all sorts of meals on the show, but his favorite cuisine genre is Italian. "It takes me back to the womb," he says of Italian food, referring to his childhood in the North End of Boston, a center for Italian food and culture. "I was born into the smells of fine cuisine."

Some of the dishes Wilson has prepared on the show include Thai chicken with peanut sauce, Guinness beef stew, rosemary chicken with wild mushrooms, and -- sexual innuendo alert -- his famous putanesca sauce. (The sauce's name is derived from the Italian word for prostitute.) While the preparations of such dishes play a main role in "Sunday Night Dinner," cooking is not the show's sole focus.

"'Sunday Night Dinner' is about more than just food," Wilson says. "It is about a mismatched group of people -- two very raunchy men alongside a, how shall I say, prim and proper woman, and the discomfort that comes from blatant sexual innuendoes in the hot, cramped space of a kitchen -- it's pretty great."

Each week, the team comes up with new dishes to prepare and goes step by step through the process of creating them. "Ideally, I would hope that some underclassmen might watch the show and learn how to cook," Wilson says. "But I know that's probably unrealistic. Everyone eats at the dining halls or Expresso's. So at the very least, I try and get a few laughs with my phallic food references."

Food is only one of Wilson's creative outlets: he is an English major and aspires to be a writer in the future. Wilson is currently working on a book of short stories that he hopes to have finished by the end of the year. "I like short stories a lot," he says. "I like the idea that you can express a lot in a short amount of space."

Wilson's stories have appeared in various publications, including, most recently, Fusion, a national online literary magazine. Wilson was also recently informed that he is one of three winners of Tufts' Mary Grant Charles prize in creative writing.

Wilson also has a love for music. He has been a member of two bands during his time at Tufts: Raw Dog and The Pedro Martinez Experience. Some of the more colorful songs he has written include the much-acclaimed "Yankees Suck" and "Raw Dog Theme Song." Wilson's bands have performed at venues around campus including Hotung Caf?© and the 2002 Naked Quad Run.

While cooking, writing, and music may seem like a diverse assortment of interests, Wilson feels that his passions share some major connections. "The thing I like about music, or writing, or cooking, is that you are taking something that already exists -- notes or words or ingredients -- and then combining them in different ways to create something that is totally unique."

"Okay, I'll be honest though," he adds. "I do love the ladies, and I think actually every interest I've ever pursued, cooking, writing, music, etc., have all stemmed from my desire to endear myself to women."

Wilson's unabashed honesty is something that friends enjoy. "He's a great guy," says housemate senior Phil Harris. "He doesn't mince words; he lets you know exactly what he's thinking and how he feels, no matter how ridiculous. There's nobody like Wilson."

Senior Ryan Little agrees. "He's just Wilson, you know? He's the original raw dog."

In his kitchen, Wilson tastes his current creation, and the rich garlic and tomato smells bring hungry housemates out of their rooms to come see what's cooking. "Damn I'm good," he says with a cackle after tasting the sauce.

When asked about his dreams, Wilson leans his head back and closes his eyes. "You know what? I think in a perfect world I'd combine all of my loves," he says. "Ideally, I'd have my own T.V. show in which I cook for women, serenade them with my songs, and then make sweet, sweet love to them. And then, I'd use it all as material for my book."