Burrowing time is Caitlin time. I love nothing more than coming home after a long day, heating up a can of Chef Lonelyheart's soup (or maybe just some Habitant Split Pea) and taking full advantage of the library's DVD collection. Tonight it was The Apartment, starring my time travel secret husband (ie., I would really only want him in or around 1960), Jack Lemmon. Also featuring Shirley MacLaine in my second favourite role of her career (the first is, of course, Ouiser in Steel Magnolias). I love this movie. I hadn't seen it since I was a doe-eyed undergrad on summer vacation, meticulously watching my way through another library's video offerings, on a personal journey of filmic edification. I was really into Billy Wilder. (That was also the summer I developed a mild obsession with Jon Voigt as a sexy paraplegic in Coming Home, but that's a story for another day.) The Apartment has always stuck with me, for a few reasons.
1. I love stories set in mid-century offices, all those people crammed in close, riding the elevators in shifts, sneaking out to the Automat over lunch, throwing crazy Christmas parties.
(Skip ahead to about 1:20.)
2. I love unrequited love that works out perfectly in the end. Coincidentally, this is the second movie I've watched this week where the lovers never even kiss, and yet it is so endearing and romantic and kind-hearted. Sincerity in the face of flaws and downfalls--that's what this world is missing these days.
3. I love that the apartment is a character in the story, because I always feel like my homes are major players in my life too.
4. Jack Lemmon's character is sort of the 1950s Seth Cohen. Not a day goes by when I don't miss The OC with all my heart.
5. Ray Walston, who later went on to play the judge on Picket Fences, has a minor role. Remember Picket Fences? CLASSIC!
6. I love the closing shot of Jack Lemmon and Shirley Maclaine playing cards. It just makes me feel all cozy inside.
7. Billy Wilder was a man ahead of his time.
Then, to undo any quasi-intellectualizing I might have gotten myself into, I watched 2 hours of old episodes of Friends on the internet. I think I'm a Monica.
Showing posts with label hunkerin'. Show all posts
Showing posts with label hunkerin'. Show all posts
Saturday, January 30, 2010
Wednesday, September 9, 2009
Back to school , back to the kitchen.
I'm a firm believer in random resolutions, and September is pretty much the best time of year for that sort of thing. No matter how old I get, I still get that excited back to school feeling, the pleasant anxiety that worrywarts like me totally love because it's a nervousness rooted in possibility instead of insanity. (Rationalization will get you everywhere, I'm told.) Anyway, the cool windy mornings fill me with hope, and ideas, and resolve, all of which are soon tempered by an all-encompassing fear of failure and a quick devolution into stasis. It's a rich tapestry, this mind of mine.
Recent example: I had vowed to write every day on this blessed blog, beginning on September first. I also promised myself that I'd start reading novels again, curbing my recent obsession with music journalism and magazines in favour of something a little meatier. These plans have not come to fruition, but I am quite happy to say that some of my other resolutions are coming along nicely. Like the renewed commitment to domesticity, for instance. The end of summer means it's time for hunkering, storing, and preparing for the long winter. I've talked before about how much I love this required burrowing, and this year I decided to embrace it wholeheartedly. I made jam this weekend, and the jars are sitting on my counter like a row of cute little rubies in a jewel box. The smell of a blueberry brunch loaf is currently wafting from my kitchen as I type this; the best part of living alone is not having to fight anyone when you want to lick the batter from the bowl. I don't think you can have any idea how satisfying it is to make something like that unless it's bred in your bones, and it certainly is in mine.
And I guess in a way my return to the kitchen has got me reading a lot more, because I've been nose-deep in cookbooks for the better part of the last week. My current favourite is one I picked up from a Friends of the Library sale in Ottawa, called The Best Recipes This Side of Heaven: Home Tested Recipes from Anglican Church Ladies. This book is so, so classic, and a perfect example of the kind of culinary lore I hope never disappears from our collective memory. It is blessed by the Archdeacon of Moose Mountain, Manitoba. It includes recipes like Beef Upside Down Pie, Salad Dressing Cake, Hard Time Pudding (I used to make a version of this almost weekly until I developed uncontrollable heartburn), Italian Pizza (in the "ethnic" section), and Chinese Wedding Cake (surprisingly, not in the "ethnic" section). Primary ingredients in most desserts include Eagle Brand milk and suet, canned fruit cocktail and dessicated coconut. They do not write recipes like this anymore. This is the kind of stuff your grandmother used to make, the kind of stuff I think we should feel obligated to keep alive.
Which is why I think I might add a new resolution to my list, one that combines my commitments to cooking and writing--a Julie and Julia style project wherein I cook my way through the church ladies' recipe box. You're all invited over for Low Cal Dinner Rolls and Wedding Salad this weekend.
This will be our dinner party music.
Recent example: I had vowed to write every day on this blessed blog, beginning on September first. I also promised myself that I'd start reading novels again, curbing my recent obsession with music journalism and magazines in favour of something a little meatier. These plans have not come to fruition, but I am quite happy to say that some of my other resolutions are coming along nicely. Like the renewed commitment to domesticity, for instance. The end of summer means it's time for hunkering, storing, and preparing for the long winter. I've talked before about how much I love this required burrowing, and this year I decided to embrace it wholeheartedly. I made jam this weekend, and the jars are sitting on my counter like a row of cute little rubies in a jewel box. The smell of a blueberry brunch loaf is currently wafting from my kitchen as I type this; the best part of living alone is not having to fight anyone when you want to lick the batter from the bowl. I don't think you can have any idea how satisfying it is to make something like that unless it's bred in your bones, and it certainly is in mine.
And I guess in a way my return to the kitchen has got me reading a lot more, because I've been nose-deep in cookbooks for the better part of the last week. My current favourite is one I picked up from a Friends of the Library sale in Ottawa, called The Best Recipes This Side of Heaven: Home Tested Recipes from Anglican Church Ladies. This book is so, so classic, and a perfect example of the kind of culinary lore I hope never disappears from our collective memory. It is blessed by the Archdeacon of Moose Mountain, Manitoba. It includes recipes like Beef Upside Down Pie, Salad Dressing Cake, Hard Time Pudding (I used to make a version of this almost weekly until I developed uncontrollable heartburn), Italian Pizza (in the "ethnic" section), and Chinese Wedding Cake (surprisingly, not in the "ethnic" section). Primary ingredients in most desserts include Eagle Brand milk and suet, canned fruit cocktail and dessicated coconut. They do not write recipes like this anymore. This is the kind of stuff your grandmother used to make, the kind of stuff I think we should feel obligated to keep alive.
Which is why I think I might add a new resolution to my list, one that combines my commitments to cooking and writing--a Julie and Julia style project wherein I cook my way through the church ladies' recipe box. You're all invited over for Low Cal Dinner Rolls and Wedding Salad this weekend.
This will be our dinner party music.
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