David DeLuise Home Page

Actor, singer, author, nice guy cooks, too

BY BEVERLY LEVITT
Times Correspondent
Credit: http://www.nwitimes.com

This story ran on nwitimes.com on Wednesday, June 16, 2004 12:12 AM CDT

"When my boys were growing up, all they wanted was my approval. Now that they're men with careers and families of their own -- all I want is theirs," muses Dom DeLuise, the burly actor, singer, author and chef.

Although some of his favorite roles in "Blazing Saddles," "The End," and "The Best Little Whorehouse in Texas" are comedic and endearing, nowhere is he more animated than in his country kitchen in the Pacific Palisades, sitting in front of a chopping block, creating mounds of minced garlic, piles of sliced mushrooms, while simultaneously opening a plethora of pasta packages.

No matter what he cooks, he throws in enormous amounts of garlic.

"Dracula would never come near my house," he jokes. "I love to cook and I love to laugh. We do a lot of that in our family," says DeLuise.

Professionally, DeLuise's hands are in a million pots -- from hosting his own radio cooking show, "Dishing with Dom," to guest starring on recent episodes of "Hollywood Squares," to dishing dirt with Jon Favreau and Burt Reynolds on the Independent Film Channel's "Dinner for Five."

This fall, his distinctive voice will be heard on the first computer-animated sitcom, "Father of the Pride," on NBC and in the upcoming feature "Instant Karma." And he just finished playing a flamboyant theater director in the independent film "Girl Play."

The very "hands on" father of three grown sons -- Peter, 37, Michael, 34, and David, 32 -- DeLuise can barely contain himself, and the Yiddish word "kvell," which means to beam with intense pride, comes to mind.

"I just want them to love me," he says. "When they say something touching, it melts my heart. One Father's Day, Michael presented me with a card, 'I want to thank you for being my father and making me realize that dreams do come true -- I can't imagine anyone not having you for a father.' I still have it hanging in my office. When Peter was younger, he asked, 'At what age do I have to stop kissing you?' I told him, never."

David -- ever the clown, the proverbial chip off the old block -- even sounds like his dad as he booms into the phone, his Italian accent reverberating. "Hellllooooo, this is David DeeeLuuuiiise."

DeLuise's youngest son -- not to be outdone by his dad -- also kvells.

"People stop me on the street to tell me something nice my dad did for them: 'My mother and I used to watch your dad on TV -- she was sick with cancer -- but he made her laugh. He made her feel better,'" David says.