Wednesday, June 6, 2012

Gooey innards ...

Anyway, here is what I made, watched and read since the last time I wrote about what I made, watched and read.


Best Rhubarb Bars: Oh yes, friends. We've got the rhubarb weed. Sorry about the gooey mid-binge photo. Every year I say: Ok. Time to make something with rhubarb. And then time escapes me, the plants flower and Chuck tells me I've missed my window. I look outside and it's February. Gah.

This time I decided to do a small harvest and found a recipe with ingredients we had in the house. (Except butter. I used Earth Balance instead. Which makes these vegan. Which makes me able to get a bumper sticker for my car that says "Ask me about my vegan rhubarb bars." But I'm not going to. That's obnoxious).

Tempeh Tikka Masala: I should have adjusted the spices to give it some kick. I liked the sauce a lot, which is a mix of blended tomatoes, garlic, ginger and a hot pepper. Add crispy tempeh. Eat over rice. It's good. It's also hungry for dinner.

Badlands: If I don't check myself I could become obsessed with Sissy Spacek. I think it's her face. It seems to have more real estate than most other faces. Lots of wide open skin. The universe is pushing her on me, between catching her interview on "Fresh Air," seeing a sign for a book signing at a strange venue when we were in LA and now watching this.

This old-y by Terrence Malack is a James Dean-styled, unemployed garbage collecting Martin Sheen playing under-the-shirt, over-the-bar with young Spacek. When her dad tries to stall the romance, Sheen's character kills him. Then they are on the run, killing people who stumble into their path.

What a weird movie. Is this a comedy? It's kind of a comedy. Not like, say, "Zoolander." But definitely kind of a comedy. Right?

The Three Faces of Eve: We've decided to take advantage of having TMC and to actually look ahead and record movies, which is why I am suddenly going to become so well-versed in torpedo chested starlets of yesteryear.

In this one, "ordinary housewife" Eve White has been having fits of amnesia. Except that's not amnesia. It's her alter Eve Black cutting loose in slinky dresses and shiny heels and rubbing up on dudes at the Big Apple Bar. Totally delicious. And funny.

People Who Eat Darkness: The True Story of a Young Woman Who Vanished from the Streets of Tokyo--and the Evil That Swallowed Her Up by Richard Lloyd Parry: In 2000 a young British former flight attendant went off to Japan with her bestie to make some quick cash to help whittle some major fashion debt. She took a job as hostess at a club, which sounds seedy, but really just means hanging out with male customers, flattering them and encouraging them to drink more drinks. Bonuses are incurred by spending time off-site with the men. Except young Lucie Blackman doesn't return from a Saturday afternoon beach trip with a costumer. The story traces her life up until that date and the following search for her killer and remains.

This book is fan-fricking-tastic. Srsly. A lot of times True Crime gets bogged down with procedural bullshit and really long, dry courtroom scenes. Not this one. This is as in-depth with the players involved as is humanly possible.

Full review will be here.

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