Showing posts with label Recipes. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Recipes. Show all posts

Tuesday, October 25, 2016

From Finicky to Foodie and Back Again: Confessions of a Baby Boomer and What She Ate





Look at her.

She looks like such a nice, dutiful little girl with her neatly folded hands and her little braids with the bows and her crooked bangs (cut by her father), but, don't let that fool you.  That little girl was a very finicky little girl when it came to food and could case major scenes if forced to eat something that "looked funny."

She wasn't just finicky.  She was VERY finicky.

As the audience used to ask in unison on Johnny Carson's "Tonight Show" when he made a pronouncement like that: 

"How finicky was she?"

And like Johnny Carson, I will reply:

  • She was so finicky that she wouldn't eat steak because she had to chew it too many times
  • She was so finicky that she wouldn't eat spaghetti sauce on her spaghetti, just melted butter
  • She was so finicky that when she went to camp she worried more about the fact that she would have to try at least one bite of what was served than that she couldn't swim and might possibly drown
  • She was so finicky that her salad was plain iceberg lettuce
  • She was so finicky that she wanted her peanut butter toast cut into "fairy cakes" (I think the Brits call them "soldiers")
  • She was so finicky that she cried if cooked carrots were anywhere in her vicinity

You get the idea.  She was really, really finicky.  And as I sit here sipping my glass of gruner veltliner and nibbling on a little piece of taleggio and a baguette, with some baby gherkins and fig jam on the side, I can confess that little girl was yours truly.

So what happened?  How did that little finicky little girl turn into a foodie who thinks nothing of crunching away on squid tentacles or relishing a nice bowl of pho with beef tendon?

I tackled some of my childhood finicky food preferences back in 2013 with "A Baby Boomer's Food Memories," where I shared some of my mother's recipes too, so I won't repeat myself here, though I will remind you just how finicky I was. 

I don't know how it happened but I did not trust food.  Or maybe it was my mother.  She liked to make casseroles and those are anathema to someone with food fears.  When I would ask her what was in it she would say, "Oh, butter and flour and meat and other good things."  I was suspicious that she would sneak something I didn't like into it, to say the least (which she often did), so I just said, "I'll have a tuna sandwich."  And when I say tuna sandwich, I am not talking about tuna SALAD.  Oh, no...that would include onions and mayonnaise (I only ate Miracle Whip in those days) and, horror of horrors, possibly mustard.  No, my tuna sandwich was plain albacore tuna laid out on bread that had been spread lightly with Miracle Whip.  Or if my mother was feeling particularly motherly, she would serve it to me on toast that was buttered on both sides.  Yum.

So besides tuna sandwiches, what else would I eat?

  • Cottage cheese (I liked to stir a little milk into it to make it more like soup)
  • Kraft dinner with pieces of bacon mixed into it (most people call this Kraft Macaroni and Cheese, but we always called it Kraft dinner - I guess because it WAS dinner)
  • Soft-boiled eggs with a dollop of butter 
  • Peanut butter on toast
  • Campbell's Cream of Tomato soup (made with milk, not water, and sometimes my mother would float pieces of peanut butter toast in the soup - I know it sounds weird but it's actually delicious.  Peanut butter is one of those things that goes with everything! See there was a bit of the foodie already starting to creep out though I can't quite explain why tomato soup was OK but tomato sauce on my spaghetti was not)
  • Grilled cheese sandwiches
  • Fish sticks
  • Hamburger with just ketchup
  • Likewise hotdog with just ketchup (I abhorred yellow mustard and actually still do - if I was presented with a sandwich with mustard on it I would go hungry rather than eat it because once that yellow goop gets on the bread, there is no getting it off no matter what you do!)
  • Potatoes in any incarnation
  • Chicken and turkey (but only the dark meat)
  • Jello and anything sweet (but no coconut)
  • TV dinners if the vegetable was corn.

(Speaking of TV dinners, I don't think anyone these days realizes what a big deal TV dinners were when they were invented back in the 50's.  I think my mother must have died and gone to heaven, even though she was a really good cook and cooked most things from scratch.  But when you have a finicky kid like I was, she just had to put one of those babies in the oven, then set it on the TV tray and put me in front of the TV and she was done.  Yes, we had TV trays).

So growing up, that was about the extent of my food repertoire.

And, yes.  If I didn't like what my mother made for dinner, she would fix me something different, one of my acceptable foods.

Now I can just hear you parents out there thinking what a spoiled child I must have been and you certainly wouldn't do that for your child.  My mother would prepare the meal for the family, and then if I objected to the menu, make something special for me.  I probably was spoiled in many ways, but I don't think that is one of them.  My experience has been that most parents force their children to at least try the food that is put in front of them, that they eat what the rest of the family eats or go without.  Some parents even make their kids sit at the table until they eat what is put before them even if it takes hours.  And if that is what you believe is the best way to raise your child, then that is your right, but I am also going to say that it is also the quickest way to create food issues for your children. 

I applaud my mother for not making a big deal about food and what I ate.

The way I see it is, the best way to create an aversion to certain foods, or saddle your children with food issues, is to make them eat what they don't want to eat. You have no idea what a casserole looks like to a little kid. Certain foods would literally make me gag and that was not creating a very relaxing dinner table.



Yes, I was a finicky little girl and my mother catered to me, but I grew up to be a woman who has no food issues and eats just about everything.  I was never a model, but I was in the normal body weight range for most of my life (and if you want to know why I am now no longer in the normal range, read my post "My Menopause")!  But I digress.

Though I didn't appreciate it at the time, I believe the fact that my mother catered to me in that way also made me feel very loved and looked after, which in turn led to the confidence I would need to go out and make my own way in the world.  And looking back, being a mother myself, I know she didn't mind doing it, because she was able to show her love.  My mother was not a particularly outwardly affectionate woman, but she showed her love in ways like that.

So how did that little girl who cried if there was mustard on her sandwich or considered iceberg lettuce "eating her vegetables" turn into a foodie?

After years of spending massive amounts of time trying to avoid most foods and causing a scene while I was doing it, I had an epiphany my senior year in college.  I realized my finickyness was affecting my life.  I mean, it is a bit embarrassing to ask at a Thai restaurant if I could have a cheese sandwich.  

But I do have to give myself a bit of slack.  It's not all my fault.  I didn't exactly come from a foodie background.  I grew up in the Midwest and a town that would hardly be called a fine dining town.  Howard Johnsons was my parents idea of fine dining and even then we were not allowed to order anything special to drink or dessert, because that was extra and my Dad only wanted to pay for the entrees.  He would have a heart attack if he knew what we pay for wine these days when we dine out.  Sometimes the wine is a bigger part of the bill than the food!  It was also not a town with a lot of diversity in the food options nor were my parents very adventurous. Let me just say that my mother once told me she had tried "Thigh" food.  I think she was almost 80 at the time.  I didn't have the heart to correct her pronunciation.

So when I moved to San Francisco after college, I vowed that I would no longer be finicky but rather I would eat EVERYTHING. 



Though San Francisco is a town renowned for its food, when I lived there I was, shall we say, a bit cash deficient and thus not really able to avail myself of all of the fine dining the town had to offer. But I was still able to hone my love of Chinese food in that City's famous Chinatown, eat Chicken Kiev at a local Russian mom and pop, try kimchi in Korea Town and expand my hamburger orders to include onions and tomatoes.  I was getting there.

Then when I moved to the Monterey Bay Area where I was married and raised my family, it was all about seafood - sand dabs, abalone, sushi and calamari were favorites. 

But it wasn't until I moved to Seattle over ten years ago, that I became a real foodie.



Seattle is the premiere food capital of the Pacific Northwest (sorry, Portland), and I embraced it with a passion. 

I discovered that I loved not only eating food, but reading about the restaurants serving the food and the "celebrity chefs' who were making it.  The city was awash in new restaurants, and I read every review and attempted to go to every restaurant.  I even made a list of the best restaurants A-Z and started my quest to sample them all in order.  (However, by the time I got to the "F's," I realized that more and more new restaurants were opening with names that began with letters before "F," so I changed my strategy to restaurants by neighborhood).

Moving to Seattle, I became a fervent foodie (and if you want to know which restaurants are my favorites, you will have to check back on this blog) and embraced all things foodie with a passion!

I also threw myself into food-oriented TV programs. I am an avid viewer of "Top Chef" and have also watched all of Gordon Ramsay's TV shows from "Hell's Kitchen" to "Master Chef.  I read Marco Pierre White's memoir (he was the first enfant terrible of the kitchen), as well as all of Tony Bourdain's books (I watch all of his TV shows too).  I even paid extra for the VIP tickets so I could meet Tony when he did a show here in Seattle (he was very nice).



I "starred" on an episode of "Check Please," a PBS program that plays in several cities across the country.  The Chicago version can even claim a young Senator named Barack Obama (check You Tube). The gist of the show is that you and two others choose your favorite restaurant. Everyone goes to each other's restaurant choice, and then we get together with the host of the program to be filmed as we talk about our experiences.

(Here it is if you care to watch it).
 



And there I was expounding about food. And watching myself, realizing I was doing it insufferably so.

So as with most passions, it is easy to overdo it.

The finicky little girl who only liked her spaghetti with butter on it, had turned into a true foodie who could rave about her calamari steak, but as you can see, she had also turned into a huge, insufferable food snob!  I mean I am even saying on the show in front of millions of people that I don't like to dine in a restaurant with children!

If I were to revise that list of how finicky I was when I was a little girl to a list of how finicky I am today, it would look  something like this:

  • I am so finicky that I send my steak back if it's not perfectly medium rare (even though I know I risk the chef spitting on my food)
  • I am so finicky that if I want pasta, I don't even eat spaghetti anymore - more like lobster ravioli or braised monk fish on a bed of spiralized zucchini
  • I am so finicky that when I am at a high end restaurant I am disappointed if they don't give me an amuse bouche
  • I am so finicky that I won't order wine if the restaurant doesn't have a nice Oregon Pinot Gris or Pinot Blanc
  • I am so finicky that haven't set foot in a Denny's in over 10 years
  • I am so finicky that I refuse to be seated in a restaurant near the door, bathrooms or kitchen
  • And I could go on, but I won't

And I am not proud of all of that. 

I have also turned into a person who chefs don't even like.

I read an article recently where Seattle chefs shared food terms that are overused and they hate to hear:

"Foodie" is right up there but how about these?

  • Veggie
  • Like butta
  • Sando (for sandwich)
  • Food porn
  • Foodgasm
  • Yummy
  • "Chef" as a verb (as in "cheffing)
  • Ethnic food (as in throwing all food that isn't European into that category)
  • Umami (using that to describe any flavor your don't understand)
  • Sexy
  • Mouthfeel


There's more, but I will let you read the article for yourself. 

My point here is that I have used over half of those words myself and finding out that, if a famous chef heard me say any of those words to describe the food I was eating, he or she would describe me as an idiot, has made me rethink this whole foodie thing, er, I mean this thing about food snobbism.

I may eat everything and actually savor all kinds of great food that I would never have touched as a child, I may love to read restaurant reviews and talk about my dining experiences, I may know what buerre blanc and veloute are, but in so doing, I have gone in the other direction and my newfound passion has turned me into a finicky snob about food. 

I have reverted back to that finicky little girl.

However, there is hope.

The difference between me now and that little finicky girl who expected her mother to cater to her finicky nature is that the adult Rosy realizes she can be a pain in the butt about her passion for fine dining, so from this day forward I vow to continue to enjoy good food, dine in fine restaurants and review them (watch for the occasional restaurant review in my Friday "Week in Reviews" posts), but I am going to watch my language and stop showing off. 

I may know all about galettes, aguilettes and semi freddo, but I don't need to be snooty about it.  I don't want to be that kind of person. You know the type.. describing her meal and acting all shocked and snobby that you didn't know what she was talking about ("You don't know what bucatini is?  Well, bless your little heart!") or telling her that you are not a big fan of chicken feet and her looking all sorry for you, not to mention your nodding off because she was boring you to death. 

No, I don't want to be that person. I certainly don't want to shame people about their food preferences, just as I wouldn't have liked it very much if people had made fun of me when I was young because I had never tried pizza (it looked funny).  Well, they did, but I got over it. 

Food is like art.  It's a matter of taste.

So for those of you out there who consider yourselves food experts, or god forbid, foodies, this is a cautionary tale.  Realize that not everyone knows what rillettes are, and more importantly, not everyone even cares. Gauge your audience, realize everyone is not as gung ho about food as you and stop showing off. No matter how passionate you might be about something, nobody likes a show off, even when it comes to food! 

And, finally, there is a little irony in all of this. 

Despite my food snobbism, in weak moments or when I am depressed or late at night when no one is looking, I revert to my childhood.  That finicky little girl who didn't like much in the way of food, whose mother catered to her, is still in there.  When I am craving something to eat, I don't whip up a cheese soufflé or a fancy omelet or potatoes lyonnaise. OK, sorry, a fancy potato dish.  

No, in those quiet, soulful moments, there is nothing like a piece of toast with peanut butter on it (cut into "fairy cakes, of course) to dip into some cream of tomato soup or a soft-boiled egg mashed up with a dollop of butter or a toasted tuna sandwich buttered on both sides to make me feel better.

Those comfort foods from my past take me back to that finicky little girl back home again being cared for by her mother. 



And nothing served to me in even the best restaurants in the world can compare to that.

 

That's it for this week!
 

Thanks for reading!

 

See you Friday 

 
for my review of
 
"Denial"

 and 

  The Week in Reviews

(What to See or Read and What to Avoid)


 and the latest on



"My 1001 Movies I Must See Before  

 I Die Project." 

 

 
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Check your local library for DVDs and books mentioned.

 

Next time you are wondering whether or not to watch a particular film, check out my reviews on IMDB (The International Movie Database). 

Go to IMDB.com, find the movie you are interested in.  Once there, click on the link that says "Explore More" on the right side of the screen.  Scroll down to External Reviews and when you get to that page, you will find Rosy the Reviewer alphabetically on the list.

NOTE:  On some entries, this has changed.  If you don't see "Explore More" on the right side of the screen, scroll down just below the description of the film in the middle of the page. Click where it says "Critics." Look for "Rosy the Reviewer" on the list.

Or if you are using a mobile device, look for "Critics Reviews." Click on that and you will find me alphabetically under "Rosy the Reviewer."

 

Friday, August 8, 2014

My Cooking Conundrums (With Recipes) and The Week in Reviews

[I review the new movie "And So It Goes," DVDs Day Night, Day Night" and "On My Way," and the book "Man Called Destruction."]


But First

One of my favorite week-end activities is to cook.

I subscribe to "Cooking Light" magazine and collect cookbooks and love nothing more than pulling out recipes I have been wanting to try and cooking a bunch of them over the week-end.  Since it's just the two of us, Hubby freaks out when he sees all of the food. 

"Who is going to eat of all of this %$#&!! food," he shouts.  Well, he doesn't actually shout, but it still makes me feel bad.

Doesn't he realize I am tapping my creative side by making this food?  And then we can eat leftovers all week.  What could be better?

Though I don't by any means consider myself a gourmet cook, I do OK.  But I definitely have some cooking issues, so if you can help me with them, I would be most grateful.

What is the deal with slow cookers?

I love the idea of putting a few ingredients in a pot and eight hours later, a meal is prepared.  However, what I don't love is the fact that everything I put in that pot tastes the same:  tasteless.

What am I doing wrong?  I have "Not Your Mother's Slow Cooker (there was a reason why my mother didn't have one, I guess) and "Crock-Pot, The Original Slow Cooker Recipe Collection," and I have tried everything from mac and cheese to pork chops to chicken breasts and everything turns out tasting like an old tennis shoe (how I know what an old tennis shoe tastes like is a long story). 

If you have a foolproof, worthy slow cooker recipe, I would like to have it before I toss the thing into the trash.  It's taking up space.



Speaking of chicken breasts, why can't I bake a decent one? 

They are always over cooked.  Hubby says that's the problem.  Don't bake them. Hubby says the only way to eat chicken breasts is to fry them, but in my quest for the perfect body, I tend to shun fried things (except French Fries.  Those don't count, do they?)

I am thinking that it's the chicken breasts I buy.  We get the ones from Costco and they are unnaturally huge so I think I overcompensate for that.  I think I will stick with chicken thighs.  Those are even good when overcooked.

Another thing I can't fathom is seafood. 

Well, I have kind of figured out shrimp, but clams, mussels and scallops scare me.  And it's difficult for me to believe something cooks in just a few minutes, so I invariably overcook my fish. And lobster.  Oy.  I could never drop a writhing, living lobster into a pot of boiling water. 

Let me tell you a little story about a lobster.

Hubby and I were eating at Morton's, a famous but highly overrated and overpriced steak house restaurant (in my humble opinion).  The custom there was for the waiter to come around to each table and show you what you could order.  I am talking about actual baked potatoes, actual cuts of beef, actual lobsters.  Now the cuts of beef are just pieces of meat, so no matter how you may feel about eating meat, at least it's already dead.  But the lobster was alive.  After the waiter had made his presentation, he placed the tray with the lobster on it by the kitchen door and left it there.  As I sat through dinner eating my meal, I couldn't take my eyes off of that poor lobster sitting on that tray, probably thinking that even swimming around in a lobster tank with his other sentenced-to-death lobster friends was better than this.  What suffering was he going through in that little lobster brain of his?  It ruined my lobster dinner. (Just kidding.  I didn't order lobster).

It haunts me to this day.  No way are lobsters going to be languishing in my kitchen.

Then there is the conundrum:  who cleans up this mess?

When I cook, I can't say I clean as I go.  After all of those cooking shows I watch, you would think I would have that as a given along with my mise en place.  But no, I just jump in, and then when I find I don't have enough flour for my brownies, but I have already melted the chocolate, or I have run out of toasted sesame oil right in the middle of the stir fry, I yell, "Hubby!" and off he goes to the store.  He's good like that. But when I am finished cooking, he does say, "Who is going to clean up this mess?"


And finally, what the hell is fenugreek?


Well, there you have it.  My kitchen conundrums.  Well, some of them anyway.

But despite my cooking shortcomings, I love to cook and to collect recipes.  I even use a big photo album to store them in under the plastic pages.  My very own cookbook!



Here are four of my favorite recipes that I go back to time and time again and even I can't screw these up.




Nonstop, No-Chop Chili

(from Cooking Light, Sept. 2002) which I have adapted). 

The absolute best and easiest chili recipe you will ever make. 

It's true, you don't have to chop one thing.  Just plunk everything in a big pot and there you have it.

Ingredients:

    • 1 pound ground round or ground turkey (or a combination of both)
    • 1 cup salsa
    • 2 cups chicken broth (if you don't want it so juicy, one cup will work)
    • 1 can corn
    • 2 T chili powder
    • 1 T sugar
    • 2 1/2 t ground cumin
    • 1 1/2 dried oregano
    • 1/4 t salt
    • 1 16 oz can chili beans undrained (I used the fancy chili beans to vary the flavor depending on my taste - Louisiana chili beans, etc.
    • 1 14 oz can diced tomatoes undrained


    Preparation

     
    Cook meat in a large Dutch oven coated with cooking spray over medium high heat 4 minutes or until beef is browned, stirring occasionally. Stir in broth and remaining ingredients, and bring to a boil. Reduce hear, and simmer 25 minutes. Yield: 6 one cup servings.  This recipe is easily doubled.



    Comfort Meatballs

    I found this recipe in "Woman's Day Magazine" March 2010.  It is one of Ree Drummond's recipes from her Pioneer Woman show. You have never had meatballs quite like these.  They really are comforting to eat.





    Ingredients

    • Meatballs:
    • 1 1/2 pounds ground beef
    • 3/4 cup quick oats
    • 1 cup milk
    • 3 tablespoons very finely minced onion
    • 1 1/2 teaspoons salt
    • Plenty of ground black pepper
    • 4 tablespoons canola oil
    • 1/2 cup all-purpose flour
    • Sauce:
    • 1 cup ketchup
    • 4 to 6 tablespoons minced onion
    • 3 tablespoons distilled white vinegar
    • 2 tablespoons sugar
    • 2 tablespoons Worcestershire sauce
    • Dash of hot sauce, such as Tabasco

    Directions
    For the meatballs: In bowl, combine the ground beef and oats. Pour in the milk, and then add the onions, salt and pepper. Stir to combine. Roll the mixture into tablespoon-size balls and refrigerate them for 30 to 45 minutes to firm.

    Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F.
    Heat the canola oil in a large skillet over medium heat. Dredge the meatballs in the flour, and then brown the meatballs in batches until light brown. As they brown, place them into a rectangular baking dish.
    For the sauce: Stir together the ketchup, onions, vinegar, sugar, Worcestershire sauce and hot sauce. Drizzle the sauce evenly on the meatballs.
    Bake until bubbly and hot, about 45 minutes.


    Baked Risotto with Bacon and Peas
    (from Oprah Magazine April 2012)

    Yes, baked.  No more standing at the stove and stirring, stirring, stirring.  It's foolproof and only the pickiest risotto aficionado would complain about this version.

    Serves 4 to 6

    Ingredients

    • 4 strips bacon, chopped
    • 1 onion, chopped
    • 1½ cups Arborio rice
    • ½ cup dry white wine
    • 4 cups chicken broth or water
    • 1 tsp. kosher salt
    • ½ tsp. ground black pepper
    • 1 cup frozen peas
    • ½ cup chopped basil, plus more for garnish
    • 2 to 3 Tbsp. unsalted butter
    • 1 cup freshly grated Parmesan cheese (about 3 ounces), plus more for garnish

    Directions


    Active time: 20 minutes
    Total time: 45 minutes

    Preheat oven to 400°. Using an oven-safe, straight-sided saucepan or Dutch oven with a lid, cook bacon over medium-high heat. When cooked through, remove bacon and set aside, reserving fat in pan. Add onion and cook, stirring, until soft and translucent, about 3 minutes. Add rice and stir to coat with bacon fat. Stir in wine and cook until it has evaporated, 1 minute more. Stir in broth, salt, and pepper and bring to a boil. Cover and bake 20 to 25 minutes; check the risotto. Most of the liquid should be absorbed and the rice just cooked. Stir in peas and basil and return to oven, uncovered, for 5 more minutes.

    Remove risotto from oven and stir in butter and cheese. Add reserved bacon, season to taste with salt and pepper, and spoon into bowls. Shave additional Parmesan over the top and garnish with basil.




    Shrimp and Sausage Corn Chowder
    from "The Busy Mom's Cookbook"




    The Best Soup You Will Ever Make
     
    What you need:

    1/4 cup olive oil
    1 pound ground Italian sausage, without the casing
    1 small green bell pepper, cored, seeded and diced
    1 small red bell pepper, cored, seeded and diced
    1 small onion, diced
    2 tablespoons butter
    2/3 cup all purpose flour
    1 cup milk
    4 cups chicken stock (I use a bit more)
    2 cups fresh, canned or thawed frozen corn
    1 pound shrimp, peeled and deveined, chopped in thirds
    salt and pepper, if desired


    Directions:
    In a large sauce pot, heat the olive oil on medium high.  Add the sausage, red and green peppers, onions, salt and pepper. Saute, breaking up sausage into bite sized pieces, until sausage is cooked through. Reduce heat to medium.


    Add butter to the pan. After the butter is melted, stir in the flour. There should be enough liquid in the pan for the flour to be completely incorporated. Continue stirring for another minute.


    Pour in the milk and chicken stock, stir well and bring to a simmer. Reduce heat to medium low, and allow chowder to thicken for about 4-5 minutes. Stir in corn and let chowder simmer for 15-20 minutes. Add shrimp and simmer for about 3-4 minutes or until shrimp is pink and curls into itself. Remove from heat and serve!
     
     

    Now On To The Week in Reviews
     

    ***In Theatres Now***
     
    Oren Little (Michael Douglas) is a realtor, a widower and a curmudgeon...until the little granddaughter he didn't know he had enters his life.

    Oren's wife has died and he is selling his huge estate and moving to his other property in Vermont. In the interim, he moves into an apartment on one of his properties and Leah (Diane Keaton) is his neighbor along with an assortment of other folks:  the black cop and his pregnant wife, the married couple with two obnoxious little sons, etc.  It's apparent no one likes Oren very much and why should they?  He's a mean son of a gun.  When his errant, ex-druggie son shows up with the daughter Oren didn't even know about and asks Oren to take care of her while he is in prison, Oren balks because he doesn't like his "good for nothing" son very much. But good hearted Leah sets him straight.  Turns out Luke, the son, isn't really guilty of anything and is clean and is taking the rap for something he didn't do.

    Directed by Rob Reiner (and he also has a small role, though you might not recognize him right away with the bad toupee) and screenplay by Mark Andrus, who gave us "As Good as it Gets,"  it's obvious they were hoping for another film like that.  "Ain't gonna happen." 

    The twitchy, giggly, nervous Annie Hall thing worked when Diane was younger.  It doesn't look so good in her 60's.  She had a period when she conquered those mannerisms to give us some really good work,  but lately, she has regressed into an aging Annie Hall and it ain't pretty.  On every talk show touting this film, she is so self-deprecating, it's embarrassing.  Get a grip, Diane. 

    One of the main themes is that Leah is a singer.  Diane can sing a bit, but would someone, let along Frankie Valli (not sure what he was doing in this thing) pay her $1500 a WEEK?  I don't think so.

    Cliches abound.  Little girl turns the curmudgeon's heart of stone to mush.  It's almost like "Annie" without the music.

    I will say at least we were spared the precocious, wise-cracking child that knows more than the adults.  Little Sterling Jerins evokes the necessary pathos to make Oren and Leah want to take care of her and that is about all I will tolerate in children in films.

    The grey hairs in the audience loved this thing.  I guess that's why I am a blonde.  I also feel like I am too young to enjoy a love story like this about people like me.  I was obsessed with Michael Douglas' ears.  Have you ever noticed how big and stretched out old mens' ears get?

    Rob Reiner, like so many people who get old, has gotten sentimental.  How did we get from "This is Spinal Tap, "When Harry Met Sally," and "A Few Good Men" to this?

    Rosy the Reviewer says...this is a trifle that will do no harm, but it doesn't really do any good either and if you were expecting another "As Good as it Gets," forget about it!

     
     
    ***DVDS***
    You Might Have Missed.
    And some you should be glad you did
    (I see the bad ones so you don't have to!)
     
     
     
     
    Two days in the life of a soon-to-be suicide bomber.
    Did you ever wonder what the days leading up to a suicide bombing would be for the bomber?  No?  Well, I have.  I'm like that.
    This is a chilling almost hour by hour representation of what that might be like.
    The film opens with a young girl praying fervently on a bus.  She is picked up by a man.  They eat at a Chinese restaurant and she orders some egg rolls to go.  Then the man takes her to a hotel and he leaves, telling her to wait there for instructions.  She takes a bath, shaves her underarms, cuts her toenails, brushes her teeth, sleeps, eats.  She eats a lot in this film.  All mundane activities made chilling by the fact that we know what her ultimate goal is.

    She is eventually joined by a man in a mask who gives her some tests, probably to see how compliant she is.  Then two others join them.  They buy her some clothes and she tries them on for them, an almost funny scene if we didn't know what will happen.  They are respectful and polite to her and she is dutiful and obedient with them.  She is given a new identity and tested on her ability to remember everything on her new driver's license.  She repeats the instructions over and over.  They make a video of her holding a rifle.  She is fitted for a backpack and she is given instructions on how to detonate the bomb.  Little things like the bomb makers worrying the backpack will hurt her back or making sure she puts her seat belt on as they head to where she will set off the bomb (Times Square) give you the sense that this is just a day at the office when in fact she is setting out to set off a bomb, killing herself and possibly hundreds of others.

    It's all very matter of fact.

    Who is she?  Why is she doing this?  We are never told and there are no political overtones.

    The film is beautifully photographed in blues and greys and whites, the colors of heaven.  Even though you know what will happen, the film is still riveting and you wish that she won't go through with it.

    Newcomer Luisa Williams as "She," won a casting call of over 650 other young women.  She looks eerily like Lea Michele.

    Rosy the Reviewer says...A chilling and haunting account of the last two days in the life of a suicide bomber.  For sophisticated movie goers.




    On My Way (2013)

     
     

    Facing the end of a relationship and her struggling restaurant, a woman in her sixties goes out for cigarettes in the middle of lunch service and just keeps driving.

    Catherine Deneuve plays Bettie, a put-upon woman in mid-life crisis with a resentful daughter.  Her daughter asks her to come and take care of her son while she goes to see about a job in Belgium.  Bettie says no at first but as she begins her odyssey, she decides to go meet her grandson, Charly, and they go on a road trip together.

    We learn that Bettie was once Miss Brittany in the Miss France Pageant and has been invited to a reunion of ex-Misses.  This leads to a riff on beauty and as Ms. Deneuve herself famously said, "You can't save your ass and your face," or something along those lines.  It's clear Ms. Denueve has chosen to save her face and it is refreshing to see one of the most beautiful women in the world allowing herself to age naturally.  It's a French thing, I guess.  At the reunion, when the photographer is taking a group picture, he tells her to keep her head up to avoid a double chin.  How many actresses would allow a line like that in a film?

    One memorable scene has Bettie stopping and asking an old man for a cigarette.  He invites her to his home to roll her one.  His swollen fingers take ages to roll the cigarette paper as Bettie is just gagging for a smoke. They talk about old people being put away because they are pains in the ass.  Funny and poignant at the same time.

    Bettie drives an old Mercedes through stunning French countryside.  Now, I like Mercedes cars, but her car surpassed all expectations. Bettie drove and drove and only once stopped for gas.  There are some other little issues such as where Bettie got her sparkly dress for the reunion and how she inexplicably turned up in a raincoat and wellies.  For someone who just took off on the spur of the moment, she certainly had a well-equipped car. 


    Rosy the Reviewer says... It's a charming film and it's all about La Deneuve. (subtitles)

     


    ***Book of the Week***

     

    A Man Called Destruction: The Life and Music of Alex Chilton, From Box Tops to Big Star to Backdoor Man  by Holly George-Warren (2014)   

                               
    Remember the song "The Letter" by The Box Tops?  Well, this is the guy who fronted that band and sang that song and he was only 17.  And despite some success in a band called Big Star, by 28, he was washed up, drug addicted and a dishwasher.

    Chilton doesn't come across as a particularly nice guy.  Probably what happens when someone becomes a big star at such a young age.  But his talent was recognized by many artists and despite being down on his luck for most of his adult life, he was still a trendsetter and inspired many musicians from REM to Jeff Buckley.

    Author George-Warren knew Chilton later in his life and has interviewed over 100 people who knew and worked with Chilton to produce a painstakingly detailed biography.  However, that is a blessing and a curse because one wonders if Chilton really deserved this much detail and adulation.

    Rosy the Reviewer says...for ardent Chilton, Box Tops or Big Star fans and those who can't get enough of the 60's and 70's.

     


    That's it for this week!


    Thanks for reading!
     
    See you Tuesday for
    "A Retired Librarian's Perfect Day"
     
     

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