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Posts from the ‘Page & Screen’ Category

Summer Vacation

I'm a little surprised at the backlash that has begun over the Julie half of Julie & Julia, a film for which I’m probably an intended target but have zero interest in seeing. I was one of those people who kind of groaned over the blog to book deal way back in the ancient days of 2003 before bloggers got book deals for compiling photos of food emailed to them. I scoffed because I'm a bitch who often begrudges the (undeserved) success of others, but what I didn’t realize was how bitchy the general public had become.

Jealous much? Hater. Ick, I keep seeing that catty shorthand in comments (not here, I don't garner comments) when anyone is critical of anyone online. For me, at least, that's not usually the case. I can separate loathing and annoyance from jealousy. And I can admit when I'm envious. That's why I never read the Julie/Julia Project.

We often hate in others what we see in ourselves and the Julie reminded me of me. We were about the same age, lived in crappy outerborough neighborhoods (Sunset Park for me), drank too much, had dull dead end jobs (I was unemployed/temped through much of the early '00s—though I was spurred to go to grad school, which landed me a slightly better paying, slightly more stable, slightly more satisfying career that I sometimes enjoy but am certainly not passionate about), were fairly domesticated (though I would never marry in my 20s, heck, I'm still not in my late 30s even though a ten-year dating anniversary is only a month away) and we both blogged about food and our personal lives, she with the focus of a single-minded project and me in the same rambling scattershot fashion I still can't shake.

She struck a chord with the public and for that I was jealous. Not in an all-consuming way, certainly but it crossed my mind. Cooking has a way of doing that, though. I'm always surprised at the number of comments, sense of camaraderie, rah rah-ness, and sharing I see on recipe-centric blogs (at least the popular ones) compared to restaurant-ish sites full of douche-slinging insults. I wonder if it's a female/male divide. Writing about cooking has never my thing, I only dabble in it occasionally, though there are plenty of meals from scratch in my household—I’m not trying to make Michael Pollan cry.

Cream rises even if that cream is now being derided as a talentless hack.

"Her writing is hollow, narcissistic, and unforgivably lazy—qualities so foreign to Julia that it’s not at all surprising that she once said she couldn’t abide Powell’s work…The idea of Powell as a contemporary heir to this personal and culinary epic is absurd."Laura Shapiro, Julia Child's biographer

“Flinging around four-letter words when cooking isn’t attractive, to me or Julia. She didn’t want to endorse it. What came through on the blog was somebody who was doing it almost for the sake of a stunt. She would never really describe the end results, how delicious it was, and what she learned. Julia didn’t like what she called ‘the flimsies.’ She didn’t suffer fools, if you know what I mean.”Judith Jones, Julia Child's editor

"I also read the Julie/Julia Project blog and for a time…Good for her, I thought. What an undertaking. But one day she made a comment implying a recipe being wrong for roast chicken. I honestly don’t remember what it was, but it struck me as being so disrespectful, completely without deference to Julia Child, that I stopped. What the hell did she know about food? Had she even heard of poulet au Bresse? Didn’t go back. No malice. Just didn’t want to follow anymore."

" The incredible proliferation and self-indulgent blabber of many food blogs has given people the freedom to hallucinate, 'I can type and I eat, therefore I am a food journalist'!"–Virginia Willis, writer/blogger previously unknown to me

Wow. Time change things. I'm now able to appreciate Julie's success more (especially since I embody emptiness, narcissism and laziness) and feel a little sympathy over the growing animosity. I can also appreciate the following she amassed using just words, no photos. It’s hard to imagine anyone reading a blog without pictures now. I felt like a latecomer not having a digital camera until 2006 but that was then the norm.

And apparently the foodie intelligentsia have come to the conclusion that she's all that's wrong with the world and an insult to Julia Child's memory. Even I, who never actually read the blog or the book, don't think that Julie saw herself as an heir to Julia. That's the movie's problem. Actually, I think it's an old person's problem and this is coming from someone who just turned 37 (old!). The cranks all seem to be middle aged women, I'm afraid. I do think there still is a print/online generational divide, though it appears to be shrinking with the mainstreaming of blogging.  Ruth Reichl immediately comes to mind as a woman who has a good grasp on both print and social media (heck, television, too).

If anything, the Nora Ephron rom-com has created a new younger audience for Mastering the Art of French Cooking. Sure, the movie tie-in wrap around dust jacket is corny. But the book is selling. It's as of this writing, the fifth bestselling book in Amazon's Cooking, Food and Wine section, behind the bizarre two versions each of Omnivore's Dilemma and Hungry Girl: 200 Recipes Under 200 Calories. Americans are clearly conflicted.

 Maybe I'm burying the lede in this jumble, but for the month of August I will be taking a break from being whatever it is that sits at the bottom of the bottle refusing to rise. Is that milk? And I like to think I know about food. Anyway, a lot has changed since the early '00s. The world, specifically my world, NYC, is now deluged with food blogs. I can barely keep up with my RSS feeds and skim at best. It's hard to care about what hundreds of strangers are eating and cooking every day and in turn I can't expect anyone to care about what I write here. If I never read about another food truck, pig roast, $100 fried chicken dinner or DiFara again, I’ll…well, I’ll be fine.

So, I’m taking August off from food blogging and as ridiculous as it sounds (though slightly less so than juicing fasts or lemonade cleanses) I’m also going completely sugar, bread and alcohol-free. A little detoxing never hurt anyone and even though I already limit my sugar and starch as it is (and so far it has successfully kept my diabetes at bay) I feel like I could be tougher. I’ve slowly let bagels, fries and ice cream to creep back into my life but I don’t want them taking over. Thirty-one carbless days never killed anyone, right?

See you in September.

And Then There Were Four

Spicytripe

I completely missed Gourmet.com's Another Offal Monday series that began in June when recently surveying the sudden proliferation of organ worship on the web. So far, they have four diverse entries: Mexican tongue tacos, southern-fried sweetbreads, dim sum-style spicy tripe (pictured above) and dowdy American classic liver and onions Spanished-up with a little sherry vinegar.  I'm liking these recipes very much.

They'd better be careful, though, with all those international flavors or they're going to get more angry letters from the crackpots like Marlynn Marroso who don't want unpatriotic food in their July issues, or any issues for that matter. Who knew that adobo and black beans could muster such ire?

Oh right, we did know after all the letter-writers equating a love of tacos, pupusas and pollo a al la brasa with glorifying illegal immigration crawled out of the woodwork after Gourmet published its September 2007 Latin American food issue.

Fatty Fatty 2x4s

Fatquilts Wow, so much (mostly snarky) blog chatter about fat acceptance today (thanks, to this New York Times article). As if it were a new and radical concept. Has dieting  ever been a cure all or route to happiness?

Didn't we just see another study about how the overweight (not obese, mind you) live longer than both the average and underweight? An extra 20 pounds isn't going to kill anyone, I'm afraid, it'll just make you the subject of scorn, shame and derision. Maybe you will wish you were dead.

Meanwhile, soon-to-depart restaurant critic, Frank Bruni, confesses to being a "baby bulimic."

"Competitive Non-Eating Between Women" is a fun game discussed at Forbes.com.

The current New Yorker has a round-up review of books about why Americans are so fat and disgusting.

Even Fox News thinks eating-disordered fat-hating MeMe Roth has gone too far. That's saying something. [via Jezebel]

 Ok, I'm off to the banh mi cart. My brought-from-home 80-calorie low-sodium tomato-red pepper soup lunch is bringing me down.

Bittersweet Memories

Vivahate I must admit that I've never gotten fancier than using Stirrings blood orange bitters at home, but that doesn't mean I can't appreciate the handiwork of others. Pay a visit to my Metromix piece about  bars around town using unusual bitters.

Does Django records in Portland still exist? I think not, though I guess I'll find out soon enough. In the late '80s, the white plastic record divider for the Morrissey section had "he's bitter" written in the same hand as the one-name heading, just below the jump. Someone else had scrawled, "you're stupid" underneath that phrase. Whenever I'd flip through the vinyl, which was frequently, the "you're stupid" got under my skin. Though now, thinking back, the "he's bitter" was the unneccesary commentary. There's nothing wrong with being bitter.

Crustacean Nation

If you ever wanted to know where to find hard shell crab around the city (soft-shells are a different story and much easier to obtain), here is my new piece on Metromix.

Meanwhile, I'm trying to plan a low key birthday party and wish I hadn't already used Clemente's Maryland Crab House two years ago because I hate repeating myself.

Offally Similar

Offal

I love a nice bowl of tripe-laden menudo and grilled intestines (Argentine a la parilla or Sichuan chong qing, preferably) as much as the next gal, so I’m not exactly complaining about how out of nowhere three blogs have taken up the offal cause. Is it the economy forcing us to take a closer look at cast offs or has nose to tail eating reached a tipping point?

Fork in the Road: Organ Recital
To date, they have eight entries focusing on duck feet, tripe, sheep intestines and trotters, calves liver, pork cracklins, blood sausage, (specifically kiska), liver pudding and head cheese that started back on April 7. The focus is on where to find these delicacies around the city. Relevant to me, perhaps not the rest of the world.

Eat Me Daily: Offal of the Week
Logically helmed by the author of Nose to Tail at Home, one of those pesky cook the book blogs (has Julie &  Julia paved the way for Ryan & Fergus?), this weekly series began April 10 and has quickly covered many classics: liver, trotters, sweetbreads, pig tail and ear, heart, marrow, tongue, kidney, brains, blood and tripe. Each entry includes a bit of history, personal experience and links to recipes.

Serious Eats: The Nasty Bits
So far they only have one entry dated June 29 about lamb’s neck stew and a simple accompanying recipe from The River Cottage Cookbook. I will have to reserve my judgment until I have more to go on. 

Chickening Out

CanchickenAfter my less than convincing experiment with farmers' market chicken this weekend, I was pleased to read Pete Wells' Cooking With Dexter column (which I normally ignore because I can't handle the foodie kid theme), "The New Chicken Economy." Apparently, a $35 chicken has sent him fleeing for the supermarket. I've been there along, good times or bad.

Perhaps even more notable was his mention of a pay cut in the publication that cut his pay. If the six-figure salaried think greenmarkets are expensive, what hope is there for the rest of us?

At least no one has resorted to chicken in a can yet

Photo from I Hate My Message Board

It Takes Two

The world is converging. Today both The Village Voice and Epicurious are bemoaning food writing clichés. I’ve had a few thoughts on the matter, myself. I’ll admit that toothsome really doesn’t bother me that much. Sinful makes me want to hurl.

 Then I was vindicated on two food dislikes. I know I recently said that the only foodstuffs I hate are melon, edible flowers and stemmy leaves, however, there are two that I don’t exactly hate but would prefer not to eat: green peppers and honey. Turns out I am not alone. Thank you Ruth Reichl and Sarah DiGregorio.

Sandwiched

Sandwich I could eat a banh mi every day of the week, but still, you have to admit the city has become oversaturated in the past few months. I can play devil's advocate, check out my banh mi alternatives in Metromix.

Since I wrote this, two new contenders have already sprung up: Aamchi Pao and Asia Dog. Long live Asian sandwiches of all stripes.

35 Is the New 35

Rarely do I find a blog I get excited about. Don't get me wrong, I skim through what seems like hundreds of feeds every day (and then hit another slew of  e-commerce/internet marketing ones for what I’m actually being paid to do all day) and I wouldn't if I didn't find them enjoyable. They just don't always speak to me; I don't shop at greenmarkets, eat cupcakes or hot dogs, I've only eaten at Momofuku Ssam once (Ko once, too, I guess) and don't attend Brooklyn cook offs. I like to eat, though.

I also like to drink and I loathe being the oldest lady in the room. Single women in their mid-30s should not be made to feel elderly (and if I hear one more woman in the age range of Drew Barrymore being referred to as a Cougar I will claw their eyes out like a real wildcat). I will neither rub shoulders in frat holes or with kids wearing '80s accoutrements, nor resign myself to Brooklyn happy hours surrounded by toddler-toters.

That's why I was happy to read about 35Saturdays, where two 35-year-old women (with the same name) search for Age Appropriate bars (caps, theirs). This is a blog concept I can totally get behind.