YOU NEED THE GOOMBA DIET IF . . .

•You have an offensive nickname, like Joey the Stomach.

•Your waist size is larger than your IQ.

•It's been more than a month since you saw your penis.

•They start asking you to use the freight elevator at your apartment.

•It takes more than two people holding hands to give you the Heimlich.

Food is like religion to the goomba. He believes in his mother's marinara and Sunday sauce the same way he believes in the Virgin Mary — only more so. Insult his mother's cooking and you're a dead man. Some people just eat to live. The goomba, he lives to eat. You don't see the goomba taking a business meeting at Starbucks. He's going to suggest lunch at Luigi's or dinner at Mario's if he's serious.

I have a friend who everyone calls Big Rocco. He's a good friend and a great guy. And he's big. I mean, he's huge. He makes me look small. And he's always eating. And he's always excited about eating. You'd think a guy that big might be worried about his weight, or he might have eaten enough already that he wouldn't be too interested in the next meal. Not Big Rocco.

This guy is a perfect representative of the Goomba Diet. He eats everything, and he loves it.

A few years back Big Rocco went on the Atkins Diet. He was eating only meat. No macaroni. No bread. Just meat. But it was a special Big Rocco Atkins Diet. He'd go into a restaurant and make a big deal about how he was on this new food plan. He'd tell the waiter he couldn't eat any pasta. No carbohydrates! No sugar! No flour!

So he'd order the veal parmigiana. But then he'd say, “Double veal on that, all right?” Or he'd order the chicken marsala, and say, “Double chicken.” He was like a guy going into a bar and saying, “Make mine a double!” Whatever he ordered, it had to be twice as much as the menu said.

It wasn't just in restaurants. He ate that way when he was in people's houses, too. He and his girlfriend went out to the Hamptons one summer to visit another friend of mine. He was still on the Atkins Diet, so he brought this suitcase filled with meat — steaks, sausages, ribs, hamburger, you name it. He took enough for thirty people.

The first day the three of them ate this huge meal for lunch — a giant Italian lunch, with seafood and roast chicken and steak and everything. Big Rocco got up from the table and said he was going to take a nap. He fell asleep on the sofa.

As soon as he was asleep, his girlfriend said to my friend, “Maybe you should start heating up the charcoal. He's going to be hungry later.”

My friend was shocked. “Are you kidding? We just ate enough for ten people!”

“He's on the Atkins Diet,” the girlfriend said. “He's going to be cranky if he wakes up and there's nothing to eat.”

So my friend started the barbecue. Sure enough, Big Rocco woke up and sniffed the air and said, “Hey! Let's put something on the grill.”

It was the same when he wasn't on the Atkins Diet. He'd go into a bar and, before he ordered a drink, he'd say, “You got any finger food?” He hasn't even got a cocktail yet and he's already ordering the Buffalo chicken wings.

In a restaurant, he'd order before the menu arrived. He'd say, “How about a pizza appetizer?” before the waiter even got there. Then he'd order a huge meal — rigatoni, chicken parmigiana, baked clams — and then he'd ask what's for dessert. If two or three different things sounded good, he'd order them all. “We'll share,” he'd say. Then he'd eat all three of them himself.

What I love about this guy is his appetite, and what I really love is that it's not just about food. This guy has a great appetite for everything. He loves girls. He loves sports. He's always got tickets to the Knicks and the Nets and the Rangers and the Yankees. Plus he's generous — really generous. He's always calling and inviting you to go to the game with him. He entertains, too. He rents these big houses for the summer and has all his friends come out. This guy is living a big life and loving it.

Last summer I had this party on a boat. I rented a big boat, so me and a bunch of my friends could spend the day sailing around the Hudson and the East River. I invited about thirty people. I told them, I'm taking care of the boat. You bring the food.” I didn't tell anybody what to bring. I just said, “Bring something to eat.”

Big Rocco went nuts. He went to Eli's, this great deli uptown, and ordered salads. I don't mean the little Styrofoam tubs of salad. I mean platters of salad. There was egg salad and potato salad and pasta salad. And, being Rocco, of course he brought dessert, too. There were these huge platters of cookies and cherries and Italian pastries.

Not only that, but when Rocco found out I had paid for the boat, he sent me a thank-you gift. A bottle of wine? No. It's Rocco. It was a case of wine.

Even a hungry guy like Rocco has certain foods he would never eat. Every goomba does. Some foods are just off-limits.

Excerpted from “The Goomba Diet,” by Steven R. Schirripa. Copyright 2006 by Steven R. Schirripa. Excerpted with permission from Crown Publishing Group, an imprint of Random House Inc. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.

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