In other news:
FOOD IN FACE
Tofu Ranchero: This one is easy-peasy from this month's issue of Vegetarian Times, and might just become a go-to menu item for brainless, autopilot cooking. It's refried beans, wrapped in a tortilla and smothered in a mix of tofu, tomato sauce, onions, chili powder and cumin, and accessorized with fresh tomatoes and avocado. Good. Fast. Easy. Yum. Blurry photo. I have noticed my red foods are the least aesthetically appealing.
Baklava: Baklava, I learned, is what happens when you are excessive with all things bad: namely butter and sugar. But it is so delicious. I made an easy recipe from Vegetarian Times, but this recipe is close enough. I OD'd on this by having three pieces in one day, then swearing off of it. I probably won't ever need to eat baklava again.
Roasted Beet Salad with Beet Greens and Feta: This was inspired by my BFF Fannie, who suggested I try to find a beet recipe that included feta and a vinaigrette. So that is exactly what I did. Good stuff, yo. The capers were a nice add. Sproactually pointed out that we eat the greens, too. Also a good call. Although I didn't wash them well enough, so it was a little like licking a sandbox. In other news: Turns out I don't have beeturia. Unfortunately.
Golden Summer Squash and Corn Soup: I like to call this "Yellow Soup." Unfortunately I won't have to ever use that name because I won't be making it again. It falls into the "good not great" file, and since it involves pureeing it, the soup has to be great to land back in the rotation. Sorry, Yellow Soup. (Although, with enough Feta on top, it really sings.)
An American Werewolf in Paris I can't think of a worse movie. Maybe Caddyshack II? Although I fell asleep in the last 15 minutes, so maybe it redeemed itself. But I doubt it. Three American X-game d-bags travel through Europe, meet a pretty werewolf and get involved with a sinister underground blood bath of rabies and saliva coated incisors. You'll know it's dumb in the first scene.
Wolf: I can't decide who should be more ashamed of himself -- Jack Nicholson or James Spader -- in this 1990s story of a mousy book editor who gets bitten by a wolf, which coincides with being demoted and finding out his wife is slinking around with his snaky little mentee. The one who took his job. Nicholson becomes more bold as he transforms to a werewolf-by-night. In his greatest moment, he whizzes on Spader's suede shoes. There are a lot of bionic man antics and Teen Wolf tributes.
Annie Hall: Phew. Now I've seen that and I'm caught up with the rest of the world. Absolutely loved it. (Thankfully Chuck had warned me about going glossy eyed in the face of "mom jeans" and ignoring them so I could continue to enjoy the film).
Hell's Angels: A Strange and Terrible Saga (Modern Library) By Hunter S. Thompson: Is there anything more delicious than when the infamous writes about the infamous. I’m hardly one of those whacked-out Hunter S. Thompson-ophiles, but Hell’s Angels, his nonfiction-ish account of spending the mid-1960s with the motorcycle club as it revved its way into mainstream media is a total kick.
Full review here.
A Bomb Shelter Romance By Patrick M. Garry: Let me preface my review by admitting that I am an asshole. For every eye roll and every disappointed page turn, I felt like a bigger and bigger jerk. I see what Patrick M. Garry is going for in his novel "Bomb Shelter Romance," a nice slice-of-small-town-life/coming-of-age novel about the summer of 1970 in a rural Minnesota town. Unfortunately, it is a shell of a novel; an outline for what could be an endearing piece of fiction.
Review will be here.