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Are you effing kidding me?
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| Quiche Tragedy |
[Feb. 28th, 2004|10:35 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| |  relaxed | ] |
First attempt at making quiche. Probable utter disaster.
Lessons learned:
1. Do not use frozen pie crusts. They crack. And shrink. Make the effing crust, it won't really take much time, and it's FUN!
2. Buy pie weights. Or get dried beans. But the pie weights will be fancy and FUN!
3. Fully follow directions for pre-baking crust, otherwise soggy crust. NOT FUN.
4. Use nice big glass pie pan when you make homemade crust to bake the quiche (NOT the aluminum shits with the frozen pie crust), because it will hold much filling and hold it all in instead of leaking all over the place and being generally structurally unsound. And it will be big and fluffly and FUN!
5. Do something with the cheese, perhaps layer it on bottom, or shred in smaller shreds, so that the cheese doesn't stick up in mounds over the custard mixture. Cheese what sticks up over the custard mixture BURNS! It BURNS and is NOT FUN. And your quiche will not cook correctly because the burnt cheese layer protects it.
6. More filling, less custard. Because filling makes quiche FUN!
I believe this quiche perfection will be my next project.
The Ultimate Deviled Eggs were the last project, and this is the ultimate perfect recipe, to the best of my recollection since I had the perfected recipe on my PDA and then the battery died and I had forgotten to back it up, so I will retry this recipe in the very near future to make sure that it is in fact the most perfect dvdegg receipt:
6 eggs, hard-boiled
1/2 tsp curry powder
1 tsp white wine vinegar
1/4 c mayonnaise
1 Tb deli mustard (NOT dijon)
several dashes hot sauce
couple dashes salt
Y'know, hard-boil eggs, halve them, mash yolks with rest of ingredients, stuff eggs back up. |
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| Passion (Torture) of Christ |
[Feb. 28th, 2004|07:53 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| |  angry | ] |
Mel Gibson has totally lost his mind, or he is a complete and utter sado-masochist, or he wants attention, or ....
I kind of expected the mawkishly weak Middle-Eastern soundtrack and the utterly unhistoric "humanizing" flashbacks (No WAY! Jesus invented the table!) -- after all, it is a Hollywood film. If I weren't with Boy Who Was Driving to the movie, I would've walked the hell out during the torturey. I mean, I know what Christ went through. As a Christian, I believe in his sacrifice. But I did not bargain for a nonstop pornographic depiction of whipping, caning, beating, nailing, prodding, goading, insulting, etc etc.
I know children are starving in Africa. MUST I see maggot-ridden bloated boney young bodies? I don't think so. I know what goes on in factory farms, I know how people live in the projects, I know about Dickensian child labor. I know what happens during a rape. An electrocution. A murder. WHY do people assume that these events have to be graphically depicted, in slow-motion, larger-than-life, with all appropriate musical and theatrical emphasis in order for us to truly UNDERSTAND the horror and pain?
Mel is just like PETA -- the shock tactics are insulting and unnecessary. This movie was utterly pointless and is going on my Top Ten Worst Movies of All Time [that I have seen], which now reads as follows:
10. xXx
9. Blair Witch Project
8. Strange Brew
7. Titanic
6. Requiem for a Dream
5. American Beauty
4. Star Wars -- all of them
3. Forrest Gump
2. Passion of Christ
1. Anything by Steven Spielberg |
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| Movie Reviews |
[Jan. 25th, 2004|04:57 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| |  contemplative | ] |
Seabiscuit
I was so ready to hate this movie. Really. But the crotchety horse and saucer-eyed Tobey sucked me in.... Despite the cheesy camera trickery and predictable dialogue, I loved Seabiscuit for what it was. I have decided that my old age has turned me into a schmaltzy wuss.
Big Fish
Ummm... wow. Go see this movie. I laughed like a lunatic for most of the movie; then cried like a schoolgirl during the last 15 minutes. Surreal, hilarious, and so touching.
The Last Samurai
When I first heard that Tom Cruise was making this movie, I automatically thought he was movie-izing the book by Helen DeWitt. And I was THRILLED, I tell you! What a fantastic read. Then I realized it was just another star vehicle Hollywood schlock-piece for Mr. Cruise.
I sat through an hour of this movie. That was all I could take. Scientologist, please... if I want to see samurai movies, I'll rent Kurosawa flicks. That is all.
Along Came Polly
Nice bit of fluff, very much needed after the turmoil of Big Fish and the irritation brought on by Last Samurai. However, I'd be lying if I didn't tell you that I expected more. Hank Azaria is, as always, comedy gold. Very underutilized in film today. [Trailer alert: I was v. pleased to see that Ben Stiller and Owen Wilson will be... STARSKY & HUTCH!!] |
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| Restaurant Review - Josie |
[Jan. 10th, 2004|11:08 am] |
| [ | mood |
| |  satisfied | ] |
So last night I went to this restaurant I've been DYING to go to for a while -- JOSIE. The meal I had was pretty damn good, and if I had the scratch, I'd make it back here once a month, most definitely. A benefit: this is NOT an over-the-top frou frou or pricey or uppity restaurant.
First, the joint itself has such a great atmosphere. Despite the average age of the diners being like 55, it felt alive and welcoming. Deep sage walls, an open kitchen, and a very nice back room and bar, perfect for a small party.
Josie presented us first with a mini slice of quiche, and I swear, I could've just eaten a bunch of that for dinner and been completely satisfied -- very light, not eggy at all, little sultry bits of mushroom, and the most perfect crisp savory crust. Heaven. For the appetizers, my dining companion opted for quail wrapped in bacon, and that was fairly succulent, nicely smoky. A good choice. He was intrigued by the accompanying apple stuffed with some kind of crumbie, but I do not generally like to mingle sweet with savory. Nonetheless, it was most excellent. I preferred my appetizer pick -- BABY cuttlefish. The morsels of squid-cousin arrived on skewers, but the bed of sausage, lentils, and greens upon which it rested was a perfect combination of savors. Again, food nirvana attained.
Dining companion definitely got the better end of the bargain as far as main courses. He ordered the buffalo burger, which was stuffed with oozes of gooey gruyere, and topped with... wait for it, wait for it... FOIE GRAS. Are you effing kidding me?? Who comes up with this stuff? Oh yeah -- Josie does. Josie's homemade mayo and an intriguing roasted red pepper spread accompanied the burger, as did truffle french fries, which tasted like freshly killed potatoes and truffles. Wow. Let me just digress for a moment on truffles. Everyone and his sister apparently ordered those fries, because by the end of the night the whole restaurant reeked of truffles. And that, mes amis, is a VERY good smell. It's the kind of smell that bypasses your nostrils and heads directly through your sinuses to your brain... like that ocean smell, or coffee, or garlic. It is unmistakeable, and distinctly of the earth. And I was so very happy.
Okay, moving on... my entree, because I wasn't really feeling anything adventurous, was salt-crusted chicken. Honestly, I could have stood to have it a tad juicier, and more salty-crusty, but it was totally fine. More important were the grits and market-fresh baby veggies. Josie loves her butter, I can tell that! mMMMM, MMMM. Seriously, the consistency of the loose grits was perfect; they held their integrity on the plate, and gave a great mouth feel. The fried cake grits were excellent, too, with the most delicate crispy outside.
Dessert was the only part of the meal I could have done without. Dining companion insisted on ordering two chocolate-type things, when I really could have used those pots de creme or the ice cream. The chocolate bread pudding was good, very moist and rich, and if I weren't so stuffed I think I would have enjoyed it more. The chocolate peanut butter "lava cake" (v. trendy these days) was kind of a let down. I wish it oozed more, and the cake part tasted a tad stale.
All in all, a definitely great experience, and while I didn't have to pay for this meal, I would have done so joyously. |
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| Class - a digression from Fussell |
[Jan. 2nd, 2004|12:29 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| |  amused | ] |
I read Paul Fussell's "Class: A Guide Through the American Status System"
, and spent an hour being alternately frustrated and vaguely amused, until Fussell's last-chapter kicker of a solution to his mess. I was entertained by his descriptions of how a violin is obviously upper class, but a trombone is not. Similarly, a Doberman is a dog for proles, while sporting dogs belong to the upper class. Fine, fine. I don't want to get into it with him about the musical instruments and how, truly, in the symphonic setting, the only musicians who get no respect are the drummers.
Then, frustrating Fussell struck -- the upper class is boring and insipid in conversation, and they don't read. The middle class only keeps books around to impress other people. The proles, well, if you consider "Popular Mechanics" to be reading, then they only read a little. So I'm thinking, "No one reads? WTF?" and, ok, I admit, we were doing a group read-aloud with the fam, and everyone's laughing and thinking the same thing. Then we get to the food section, and the "bland foods" of the upper and upper-middle classes -- like, oh, eggs and juice and quiche. Girlfriend OBVIOUSLY has no love for simplicity and freshness.
So, who's the audience for this book? What is Fussell's agenda? He's so frigging hostile! We spent another 50 or so pages puzzling through it until Fussell unveiled his "key to escaping the class structure" -- be a member of the "X class"! As far as I could determine, Fussell thinks he is a member of this not-class, composed of aging ex-hippies. Apparently, THIS is the class that reads. This is the class that "answers to no man," that devotes lawn space to a marijuana patch, that eats Indian food, that doesn't have a set dinner time. OY! I wish he could have revealed his "thesis" up front instead of letting everyone wonder what the eff he was talking about. Thank you, Paul Fussell, for letting me know where to find all the educated free spirits!
In the end, all I could think was "Whatever..." which is what I think of when I read almost anything analyzing class in America. It exists, but it affects me only to the extent that I care about how people label me. Sometimes I care. Sometimes I don't. I hear people say that they can't be categorized because they're so UNIQUE. Get over it. Here is an amusing little website illustrating that point -- plug in your zip code, and a "segmentation system" tells you who lives in your neighborhood and what they consume.
And here are games from PBS based on their documentary on Class in America. Minutes of guaranteed entertainment!
Finally, a relevant article from the Atlantic Monthly on our tendencies to group with people who are just like us. I'll put in one vote for sad, sad, tragic, tragic. Sad likeminded people, please -- get the eff out there and get to know people outside your comfort zone!
Thanks, big bro, for bringing Fussell home this holiday season. |
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| Mashed Potatoes |
[Dec. 26th, 2003|12:38 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| | grateful | ] |
These are notes from observing the Brother of Much Skill With the Mashing of Potatoes:
NEVER use Yukon Gold if you do not possess Much Skill. These potatoes are tricksy and do not mash easily. The best are the white fleshed red skinned big potatoes.
1. Peel them and cut them into vaguely equal pieces.
2. Boil them, but not too long or they get v. starchy.
3. Mash them only with the masher that has a circular grid on the bottom. Do not process or blend the taters, or you will end up with glue.
4. Mash them completely, before adding anything. All lumps must be out. They are done when, after plunging the masher into the taters, the pieces of tater coming up from the grid lose their structural integrity and meld into each other. They are no longer distinct worms of tater.
5. Nuke your ingredients. You should have some sort of oil plus some sort of dairy. Half-n-half with butter is the usual combo. Also try olive oil & ricotta, or add a tad of shredded cheddar to the milk/butter thing. Variations are infinite.
6. STIR (do not mash!) your warm ingredients into the taters. Add freshly ground salt and pepper to taste.
...hopefully, Brother of Much Skill will soon acquire Skill with the Smoker, and we can make with the happy eating of smoked fishes and poultry. MMMMMMMM. |
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| Restaurant Review -- Morton's |
[Dec. 22nd, 2003|11:37 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| |  annoyed | ] |
Yet another overpriced restaurant with so-so food. This dining experience was, thankfully, on the company dime.
Since we were all encouraged to order cocktails, I began with my traditional Grey Goose martini. The perfect vodka martini shouldn't bite, shouldn't pucker, shouldn't kick. It should slide down your throat in a smooth column of liquid love. The best part of a martini is sucking on the vodka-drenched olives. I am partial to anchovy-stuffed or blue-cheese stuffed olives... alas, none were to be found at Morton's. The martini was sadly uninspiring.
Moving on to the "starters." I was feeling the salad. REALLY feeling it, especially after the description of the Morton's salad: blue cheese dressing, anchovies, chopped egg. I was envisioning... something other than what I got, which was lackluster romaine with a teaspoon of minced egg particles adorning a SINGLE anchovy. Lame. Lame lame lame lame. We're talking Tiny Tim lame.
I was unsatisfied. Proceeding to the entree...
Morton's is known for its steak; so I ordered a T-bone, VERY rare. Imagine my surprise when the steak emerged tough, chewy, and medium-rare. Thankfully, my second Grey Goose martini had kicked in by that point, and I didn't really care all that much.
I guess I should talk about the sides, which were shared by the table. The mashed potatoes were pretty damn buttery good. The creamed spinach suffered from a surfeit of nutmeg. The potatoes and onions could have been crisper, but were edible. I didn't bother with the broccoli or the asparagus because I was too drunk full.
Thank the Food Gods that I will have Peter Luger next week to erase this pathetic excuse of a steakhouse from my memory. If I had had to shell out $60 of my hard-earned cash for this glaringly average meal, I would have been more bitter than Anna Nicole after losing a bet. |
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| Earthquake! |
[Dec. 22nd, 2003|12:15 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| |  nauseated | ] |
http://earthquake.usgs.gov/recenteqsUS/Quakes/nc40148755.htm
So the building started a-swaying, and I felt like I was on the deck of a ship -- lasted several minutes, and then everyone evacuated. We stood around outside for a while, everyone saying that was the worst quake since Northridge.
All systems are back up, but I feel vaguely ill and dizzy. |
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| Restaurant Review - The Ivy |
[Dec. 21st, 2003|09:30 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| | full | ] |
If you go here, it's SO not for the food.
The first indication that this was going to be a BAD food evening: the glass of pinot noir I ordered arrived at room temperature. Okay, I realize this makes me sound like a right snobby cunt, but I'm sorry -- THIS IS BASIC!
My dining companion and I started with a steamed artichoke stuffed with grape tomatoes, basil, and croutons. The dressing was inappropriate -- heavily vinegared, and great for a simple green salad, but it killed the delicate choke and clashed with the fresh basil. Maybe I just prefer my artichokes dressed simply with butter.
Our other starter was crab cakes. The cakes tasted deep fried. Nothing remarkable. The sauce was far too mayonnaisey, but *disclaimer* -- I have a strong aversion to mayonnaise.
Moving on to the main course. I inadvisedly ordered the "lobster" rubber, oops, I mean ravioli. The tomato cream sauce was too goopy and clotted, and I don't recall tasting any lobster. Dining companion decided on the "Fish-n-Chips" which turned out to be Not Bad (cod, shrimp, scallops). Not terribly Good, either, as the fries decided to sog out after 10 minutes on the table. I didn't care for the cocktail sauce or tartar sauce, but *disclaimer* I am VERY picky as far as those condiments go.
Dining companion decided to order the banana split dessert, which consisted of four scoops of homemade ice cream sprinkled with berries, and accompanied by a pitcher of hot butterscotch, another pitcher of hot fudge, whipped cream and nuts. IF the ice cream tasted less like vaguely frozen milk, this would have been a fantastic dessert. I still love the concept.
Service: crappy. The gayters were nice enough, but slow as all get-out.
Ambience: The outdoor patio was pretty, and warm thanks to the heat lamps. Would have been nice for a Sunday brunch, watching the traffic on Robertson, having an inexpensive sammich. I don't think I've ever seen so many diamonds or plastic surgery victims in my LIFE, though.
Price: Over $100. Thank goodness this was on a gift certificate, because if I (or my dining companion) had plunked down our own hard-earned cash, I would have been extremely bitter. |
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| (no subject) |
[Dec. 21st, 2003|06:09 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| | discontent | ] |
"The Met lacks a Heldentenor who looks even a little bit like Viggo Mortensen." (http://www.newyorker.com/critics/atlarge/?031222crat_atlarge)
HELLO! How true that is. Though Bryn Terfel is doing his very best to bring sex appeal back into opera, I fear that may not be enough. Maybe if Brynnie-poo performed more than twice a year!
I hereby call for more hotties in opera! |
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| (no subject) |
[Dec. 21st, 2003|03:44 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| |  exhausted | ] |
I have been making butter crunch all day, to give as xmas gifts... OH, but it is tedious work! Cook the candy mix to soft crack, make sure it doesn't burn... dip in dark chocolate, roll in crushed cashews. All my party people had better appreciate this!
My self-appointed assignment for this year's family xmas gathering is a cheesecake and a Yule log. My bro will do mashed potatoes, and I am looking forward to learning his techniques. I failed miserably at Thanksgiving; they turned out all lumpy and gross.
And Fassbinder's "Whity" has been on and off all day during the candy-making process. Very, very odd... I wonder why Fassbinder paced this thing so damn slowly.
Recent movie thumbs-ups:
Return of the King
Mostly Martha
Finding Nemo
Blue Car
And I watched Rashomon again. Every time I think I get it, I don't. I try to find the common threads to the stories, try to find what the "truth" is, and I can't seem to do it. Then again, that may be the point of the movie - that there is no universal truth. Simple enough, eh? |
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