In other news, here is how I spent the past week:
Garlic Soup: Last week Chuck made a roast chicken from Mastering the Art of French Cooking that I descended on with the enthusiasm of something that uses all fours to move from place to place. I have to use the word "devour" to describe it, even though I usually only use that word for things that end in the suffix -itos.
So this past week I cracked into the French bible again and made garlic soup that is the strangest consistency and so so subtle. Basically, everything that is in it is strained out of it except egg yolk and whatever seeps through the holes of the strainer. I served it with shredded Gruyere, which has revealed itself as my favorite cheese, and French bread.
This is just a mite bit of an appetizer. It doesn't take up too much intestinal space. Next time I'm going to make it with a poached egg because that sounds good and show-offy.
District 9 : I had no idea what this was going into it. Turns out it is not something to watch while eating. 101 ways to emit black vomit. And a little boring. The makers of ET were robbed.
The Unnamed by Joshua Ferris: Here's the thing: Joshua Ferris is not a good writer. He just simply isn't. He has some pretty grand ideas. His first novel had a nameless narrator and was written in second person. Whoa. Aiming for the fences, hitting a double. This one has an important theme, what it is like to live with an undiagnosable illness and what it is like to live with someone who has an undiagnosable illness. The body split in two between letting the illness lead, or letting the self lead. The metallic taste of a gun in a mouth: Can a person live like this? Or would it be better to not live at all. Clever, thinky stuff. But he should hire someone else to put it on paper