Sure, call it a chick flick if you think that damns it to some lower status. Maybe it is one. But I absolutely loved Julie & Julia, which I just saw today. It tells interweaving stories about the formative years of the famous chef on the one hand, and the woman many years later who would base a blog on working her way through every recipe in Child’s cookbook. Along the way we are treated to a jaw dropping impression of Julia Child by the incomparable Meryl Streep, and great performances by Amy Adams and the rest of the cast. It struck me that a great deal of the fun in this film is about the somewhat caricatured yet iconic place Julia Child holds in our culture. Her persona and mannerisms are legend, and the movie even plays to this by having the later characters watch the famous SNL skit with Dan Akroyd as The French Chef. On the more modern end in the character (based on a real person) of Julie Powell, I was moved by the potent idea of doing something for the love of it, and for the sake of having something to do. And through our projects, almost any project really, we find meaning in our way of pushing a rock up a hill only to have it fall back down again. Arriving somewhere is not nearly as interesting as the journey, and taking stock and pleasure in where we are right now.
The movie dovetails nicely with so many of my own interests, spread as they are over the years of my life. From France and French culture, to writing and blogging, this film really spoke to me. And of course one of the greatest elements in the film, taking notice that the love of great food is part and parcel of the love of life and living.
Yesterday was one of those days that makes me love New York — and makes everyone else think that I should probably be locked up for the inane grin on my face and kind, open look in my eyes. There was no special event happening. In fact the day was about as mundane as could be, but no matter where I was it was a pleasure. Went to go meet my friend Jon for lunch and he noticed and commented on this cheeriness in his usual way (with vague threats of physical violence). After lunch I took a pleasant, slow stroll through the streets near the UN to my apartment listening to music and feeling a strange and sweet sense of connectedness to every pedestrian who crossed my path and to the buildings and streets. The weather was perfect, and I am sure that helps. And being freelance and feeling no particular time pressure helps as well. In the evening I walked across town for a website meeting at a new (fucking) hipster hotel and then had a lovely dinner at a (so called) Indian restaurant called Tabla. The food was really more Indian inspired than Indian, but delicious nonetheless.There was seating outside, right across from Madison Square Park, the weather was perfect, and this continued my good-feelings-toward-New-York mood.
Other stuff happened during the day, but not as worth mentioning here. I leave that to your imagination…
Last night my friend Jon took me out to a yummy birthday dinner at a place called Zampa (which, funny enough I have passed several times admiring the signage). The food was great, I highly recommend it, and the staff was super sexy and friendly, always a nice combo. We had a few drinks and a nice time, then said our goodbyes, and I went to bed.
This morning I woke up and went downstairs to the coffee shop to grab a coffee and muffin. On my way and in the coffee shop, I (literally) bumped into 3 people and had to do the swerving dance with two others. Somehow my sense of direction is all screwy this morning. Like I went to bed in a right-handed culture and woke up in a left-handed one.
Ah, Paris. Sometimes it feels like coming home. Everything just falls into place so easily. I met up with old and new friends all day today, sharing great food and wine, and walks and talks. Despite being majorly jet lagged and tired (as is the norm for me, there was a screaming infant in the seat next to me on the flight over), I had a wonderful time today getting reacquainted with Paris. I especially love how most of the best conversations and interaction are around the table, as it seems to bring out the friendship and connection in everyone. It didn’t hurt that the weather was gorgeous and everyone had a bit of spring fever.
Now if you will excuse me, I am going to pass out and hopefully get adjusted to the time difference. Bonne nuit!
I just HAVE to write about the most amazing restaurant that we (John, Kevin, Paul and I) ate at this evening in the Village. It is called “August“, and it was perhaps the best meal that I have had in New York since arriving 4 months ago. Yes, it was THAT good. You can of course check out their menu yourself on their website, but if I had to sum up in a tidy description, I would say we ate as kings would have in the 16th or 17th century, albeit in smaller quarters. Or at least how they would have eaten in my romantic vision of the excesses of royalty from that period. My only regret was not having my camera handy to delight you all with the delicious visions that graced our table. I highly recommend a trip here after your next hastily arranged annulment and spouse beheading, or anytime really.
It seems we have dispensed with spring altogether, as this weekend was hot. And seeing as how it was the first hot weekend, people were out in full force all over the city, especially in Central Park. I enjoyed a lovely picnic on Saturday with several French friends, and a really yummy brunch (at Telepan) and walk in the park with my buddy Jonathon today. Click on the pic below to go the the full album.
And so I bid a wistful farewell to SF (after an amazing meal at a place called Laiola last night), and return to my new hometown of New York. San Francisco will always be one of those places to me that feels so comfortable and a lot like home, as much for my long history and friends here as anything else. It always seems right there where I left off, frozen in time somehow even as time does march on.
I just added a new album to my cv site. This one is focused on the huge variety of food I have had around the world. Not all of the images are frankly as nice as I would like them to be, but examining the diversity of meals is fascinating to me. You can either check out the slideshow below, or click here to launch the slightly fancier version on my cv site.
Last night, I went to go meet my friend Mario (who I met in Delhi almost 2 years ago, and who now lives in NYC) and a friend of his at a gay bar that I went to once about a year ago named Suite. As we were enjoying our drinks and getting caught up, Mario informs me that right next door is a place that sells kathi rolls. What, I ask incredulously? Like Nizam’s? Slightly drunk from my second martini, I decide I must go over that very minute, and when I get inside I see that these are not kathis, these are frankies! The place is even named Roti Roll Bombay Frankie. I greedily peruse the menu and order both a chicken malai for me and a lamb boti for my friends, and head back to the bar. As I tore into my delicious frankie, I offer the lamb to my friends but they aren’t hungry, so glutton that I am I scarf down the other one as well. Maybe it was the martinis, but damn they were good. It seemed funny that these two oddly incongruous establishments should be right next to each other. In fact, there is even a small open sliding door that connects the two without even needing to go outside. And when I looked on the restaurant website, there is a link to visit the bar, apparently owned by the same people. A gay bar attached to a frankie place? Is this corner of Manhattan tailor made for me?
