What Could Happen?

Because you haven't heard enough about my drinking yet....

2010-04-07T06:17:00.001-07:00

A Q&A with me over at The Drinking Diaries. Enjoy with a glass of Portuguese white.....

A great day

2010-03-22T07:32:00.000-07:00

I have tried to not make political posts of late, because durn but people get riled up... That plus the letters I'm always getting about my foul language are just two things I don't really care about. But I am so proud of us today. The health care reform bill may be, as a friend of mine just said, as watered down as a beer in a Utah bar, but it's something. A start. I am glad that the screaming naysayers don't have all the control all the time. only, say, 95%.....

As Tiny Tim said, God Bless Us, Every One. (Without the God, for me, but you can keep it if you like.)

A little late in the day...

2010-03-18T10:51:00.000-07:00

... But last minute announcement: I'll be reading as part of tonight's In the Flesh series at the appropriately named Happy Ending Lounge, at 302 Broome. Its from 8 to 10, but I've been advised people should try to get there by 7:30 if they want a seat. There'll be a bondage rope expert and a feminist porn star reading there, too, among others, so it ought to be a fun night. Come one, come all!

PS To the person in the comments who thought that because I had an affair, ergo, I didn't finish the aspics: I assure you, all of the aspics were made. I'll grant they weren't all consumed in their entirety.... There's only so much poached egg in aspic one can be expected to swallow.

Rachael Ray

2010-03-05T06:07:00.000-08:00

I'm going to be on it. Today. Actually, we filmed it last week... The creepy thing is that I sort of actually liked her. Is that weird?

Woodstock Writer's Festival

2010-02-11T09:36:00.000-08:00

I'm going to be there this Sunday alongside - gulp! - Ruth Reichl and Susan Orlean. Just in time for Valentine's Day!

Please come, yes?

The tragedy we pet owners all sign onto.

2010-01-14T09:38:00.000-08:00

Our beloved Robert - known to readers of "Cleaving" and the Epilogue of "J&J" - died on Sunday. He was 11 or 12 years old, a dear, dear animal that we were lucky enough to share our lives with for 6 years. The very best dog that ever there was. Eric and I are destroyed, of course, and I've only now felt up to posting this.

Of course, losing an animal doesn't rank up there with King Lear on the tragedy scale, empirically speaking, but those of you out there who have gone through this know how excruciating it is. It's what we sign up for, though. He was our heart - and though we know we gave him a good life, and have no regrets on that score - the blank spot he's left is cold and immense.

All love, my big bear.

PS I ask out of respect to his sweetness that people maybe refrain from violent, nasty comments. I'll post again soon and those of you who get off on meanness and name calling can resume your activities. From this post, I will be removing them.

I'm not much one for resolutions

2009-12-30T15:50:00.000-08:00

But this year I'm holding on to mine like a life line. I won't go into the specifics other than to say that they include the usual StopDrinkingStopSmokingGetInShape sorts of of things, as well as one or two others more particular to my situation, all of which could be contained under the rubric of "Quit trying to the same things and expecting different results."

What about you guys? How's you thinkin' about this new decade?

Can't remember who was asking...

2009-12-21T09:53:00.000-08:00

... but the artist who did the cow painting that shows up in the photo in People is by Teresa Elliott. She is wonderful, and I love my cow so very much....

Two words. MEAT. HOOK.

2009-12-17T09:30:00.000-08:00

All right, guys. I'm going to be at Tom Mylan's extraordinary store, The Meat Hook, in Williamsburg, Bklyn, tonight at 7:30, reading and drinking and eating pig heart. You should all come. Usually my readings are relatively staid because when you're at Barnes & Noble, you can't really depend on folks wanting to hear about gutting animals and horrific sex. But the folks at The Meat Hook can take it, so I'm takin' off the gloves...

As a little fore-taste, here's an interview I did with Tom's wife Annaliese for her great blog, Brooklyn Based.

Movin' those bloggin' shoes

2009-12-08T08:51:00.001-08:00

Hey guys - I'm going to be over here for the next week or so, so click on over if you like....

OhhhhKlahomans!

2009-12-07T13:32:00.000-08:00

(I'm sure you NEVER get that, right?)

So I'm going to be here tonight, talking and reading and signing book. Bring two cans of food to donate to the Tulsa Food Bank, and you're in. A good cause AND a book about meat!

And things progress

2009-12-04T06:23:00.000-08:00

Hey guys. Just wanted you to know, my new website is up, juliepowellbooks.com. My tour dates are up there, and a few other goodies, so check it out if you like.

Appearing at the Barnes & Noble at Lincoln Center tonight. Before that, I'll be on the Leonard Lopate show at 1 PM. So, you know, tune in and stuff.

D-Day

2009-12-01T05:54:00.000-08:00

This is it. Official book launch. I'll be at the KGB Bar tonight to read; come see! And I'll be on Good Morning America tomorrow morning.

I'm swallowing pills and drinking Diet Pepsi. I'm sure it'll all turn out fine.

Jumping in on One, Two, Two-and-a-Half....

2009-11-29T09:21:00.000-08:00

.... aaaannnyyy second now.

This is it, the big week. Tomorrow I've got some videos to shoot with the awe-inspiring Tom Mylan, plus a laser appointment. And then we've got Tuesday. Book launch!!! KGB Bar!!!! Drinking!!!! The rest of the week will see an appearance on Good Morning America (That'd be on Wednesday), an attempt to stay sober until midnight on Thursday for the Joey Reynolds show (the best of Irish luck on that), and a reading at the Barnes & Noble at Lincoln Square on Friday evening. And then I hit the road. Austin, Tulsa, San Francisco, Denver, LA, Philly.... I've got me my anti-depressants, but where I'm going to get the blow to keep me upright through the next two and a half weeks, I have no idea.....

Julie Powell, College Lecturer?

2009-11-04T08:37:00.001-08:00

No, not really, god forbid. But I am giving a talk at the Founder's Day weekend at my alma mater on Saturday. For 45 minutes. Terrifying. So - what should I talk about? I'm kind of serious.... anyone who has any bright ideas on what they'd like to hear me talk about if it were them will be listened to attentively....

William & Mary

2009-10-17T13:52:00.001-07:00

Hey guys - so I'm going to be here Monday, for anyone who happens to be in the neighborhood and wants to drop in. This is the almost the first time I've spoken basically unscripted without help of the questions/taunts of others, so it's going to be an experiment. I'll probably need a drink afterwards. Join!

For Amherst D-bags only?

2009-10-01T10:36:00.000-07:00

Not sure if non-grads will be able to access this, but I did a fun little interview with my buddy Dan at the LIC bar a few weeks ago, and you can (maybe) access it here.

A neat event

2009-09-24T06:47:00.000-07:00

I'm going to be here tonight with far more amazing women Amanda Hesser and Judith Jones. There have been far too many opportunities to hear me talk about Julia Child, but Amanda and Judith have some pretty interesting things to say, I'd imagine, so show up if you have a mind....

A little something I wrote.

2009-08-24T10:54:00.001-07:00

I wrote this the day after my beloved eldest cat died. People who know me know that I pretty much have to work the people I love into everything I write, which makes for some odd perspectives on things sometimes.

So many things to comment on! I know I can't possibly answer everyone's questions, but:

1) Vegetarian food in MtAoFC is pretty thin on the ground, especially if you're eschewing dairy. But I believe the ratatouille is, and it's fantastic. And then there's always my beloved baked cucumbers.

2) Ron P - I'm horrified that the Delta Sky pieces talks about pork at Salute - that's horrific, and definitely not something I wrote. I need to get the piece as printed. Thanks for pointing it out.

New Post: Because Someone Had A Good Idea

2009-08-13T11:32:00.000-07:00

So, indeed: What IS your favorite MtAoFC recipe? Or Julia recipe in general? I've been asked this question so many times I want to split my head open, so I now turn it over to you guys... Whaddaya think?

(Also? Read "Inherent Vice." It's very good. I think this Pynchon kid's goin' places....)

A couple of things

2009-08-10T11:34:00.000-07:00

Hi, guys - thanks for all the love! (And to those delivering something other than love, sorry 'bout that....)

I'm currently a little overwhelmed trying to plow through all these comments, but I wanted to address two things.

1. A lot of people have been asking whether it's true that Julia Child wasn't a big fan of Julie Powell, and whether she and I really didn't meet. Both of those things are true - Julia, I think, from what I gather, was less irritated than simply uninterested. Which, when I first found out, was of course devastating. But the thing about Julia, to me, was that she was a real person - a great 6-foot-2 force of nature, with tremendous gifts, nearly limitless energy and generosity, firm opinions, and even a few flaws. That's what I love about her - she inspired because she was a woman, not a saint. Not to say that her not loving my blog was a flaw. I just mean that the fact that she might not for whatever reason adore me as much as I adore her has absolutely no bearing on what is wonderful about her. Throughout her life, Julia nurtured and encouraged and gave great help to chefs and writers both. And she changed my life. No matter what she - or anyone else, for that matter - thought of the project. I know why I did what I did, and I am proud that I spent a year writing and cooking in tribute to one the most wonderful women I've ever not met.

2. Er, I probably should have mentioned this for, but for those of you who've not bought the book yet and are meaning to: I really ought to warn you about the language. I happen to believe that curse words are vital parts of the language, and I write accordingly. If you are not one of those people, you're probably not going to be thrilled with J&J: The Book! Also, yeah, I bash on Republicans a lot. It's nothing personal - some of my dearest friends... well, no, but dearest relatives - are Republican. I just am terrified of everything you stand for, is all. There I go, being glib. It's something I do a lot. Which you'll also find in the book.

Okay, that's all for now. Thanks again, everyone, for all the well wishes!

UPDATE: Just to clarify: I don't bash all Republicans - though I am, truly, frightened by the Republican Party Platform itself, and therefore reserve the right to disagree violently with the opinions of those who vote for it. Who I bash, in the book, specifically, are those Republicans holding elected office and doing what they do there. One particular Republican, if I remember correctly, comes under considerable fire.

I have friends who are Republicans, I have them to dinner, I drink with them, I curse with (rather than at) them. I think everyone should get to vote for who they want. I just don't particularly want the ones currently available for the job running my country.

That is all on the subject. More to come, when I feel like it.

Today's the Day!

2009-08-07T07:54:00.000-07:00

That's right.... it's what we've all been waiting for..... The Opening of G.I. Joe! Who's psyched?!!!

Kidding. Yeah, J&J opens today. I'm not sure what I'm going to do to celebrate. Last night I made Julia's Coq au Vin for the first time in, honestly, years. It was fantastic, and purple (Eric's comment - "That whole year just sticks out in my mind as so... purple"), and we ate at 11 at night. It was very Project. Today, no cooking. And no watching J&J - I've seen it six times by now, and at this point, sweet as it is, it's like beating my head against a board. Dinner out, I think. Prune, perhaps? On a Friday night, I don't much like my chances, maybe I can pull a "Do you know who I am?" deal. But probably not.

I love this

2009-08-06T09:44:00.000-07:00

So, last night I went to a screening where I expected to get beaten up by Judith Jones and/or Ruth Reichl, but instead had incredibly kind words spoken to me by Sara Moulton. And today, a journalist has come rallying to my defense here.

It's so sweet - I love it! But little does Jennie know, I have been successful at almost completely ignoring the haters. I haven't googled myself in weeks, I tell you, WEEKS!

... And, thanks to Aunt Ruthie...

2009-08-05T07:57:00.000-07:00

... I have the Nightline clip. It was about 100 degrees in there, which is why all my make-up melted off and I look distressingly like myself, and there's a bit of a spoiler in there about the new book, but it could be worse. Lots of good Julia clips!

My debut in The Atlantic... kinda/sorta

2009-08-05T06:13:00.000-07:00

At the NYC premiere, Atlantic food editor Corby Kummer, who is an amazing writer and all-around lovely man, took time out from hanging out with his way-cooler-than-me friends to nag me (sweetly) about writing a piece for the magazine's food blog. And at last I did - you can see it here.

I'm also trying to dig up a link to the piece on Nightline last night, which I've not seen, because apparently it's impossible to get network television without cable in Queens, NY. As soon as I find it, it'll be up here....

Possibly the single best thing to have come out of this whole crazy thing:

2009-08-02T10:52:00.000-07:00

(Photo by Ken Lambert of the Seattle Times....)

Tales From the Red Carpet

2009-07-31T09:55:00.001-07:00

Well, it's done. The premiere has come and gone, and my stint in LaLaLand is nearly done. It's been a fun ride, and I'm going to miss those priority tags on my luggage and the hotel rooms with grand pianos in them, but it's probably best for me to go back to Queens and be normal again for awhile. Well, not normal, but you know what I mean.

Here I am at the red carpet. Could be a whole lot worse - I have to thank the loads of people who spent multiple hours making me look presentable.

The red carpet is, as it turns out, a rather violent and scary place. The premiere itself was a little excruciating - I've seen the movie six times now, and the cringing still hasn't stopped. The after party was, however, suitably glamorous. I talked with Amy A., who looked gorgeous, was very composed, and sipped champagne out of a little funnel thingy to keep from spilling on her amazing dress. I talked with Chris M., who was effusive and suspiciously loopy and hanging out with Sam Rockwell. I talked with Stanley T. and Meryl S., who were extraordinarily gracious considering the THOUSANDS of people who wanted a piece of their time. I talked to Nora E., who was extraordinarily kind and looked fantastic. But I also hung out with Mark Ricker, J&J production designer, who's amazing, and Amy Robinson and Eric Steel, who are producers on the film and dear friends. I didn't hang out nearly enough with my dear family and friends who came with me, but I believe they had a good time anyway. Oh, AND!!!! I now have the phone number of Danny Strong, AKA Jonathan from Buffy. That was a highlight. And I talked to Alex Prud'homme, who, shockingly, doesn't seem to hate me. I did NOT talk to Zadie Smith, though my husband did, and didn't introduce me.

My posse and I ended the night by closing down a nearby bar. And this morning I'm in my sweats eating bacon and jalapeno pizza from Domino's, a very happy camper indeed.

In Dallas...

2009-07-29T11:01:00.000-07:00

...eating brisket tacos.

That is all.

(Actually, no, it's not at all, they have me running about like a hamster on a wheel, and I look like either a zombie or someone who's been punched in both eyes, but for this moment, this taco is the center of my world.)

Countdown to Surreality, Part 62

2009-07-28T12:50:00.001-07:00

The most amusing thing about this room I have at the Ritz-Carlton is:

I'm not even sleeping in it! I got here at 10 AM and am leaving at 5 this afternoon. Most of the time I'll be downstairs in a conference call doing interviews. I don't even have time to try to smash the grand piano to smithereens or toss a Queen Anne chair out the window!

I am, however, going to sit in the tub watching the big-screen TV mounted over it on my lunch break. Which is now.

Tonight - well, early early early tomorrow morning, technically - I arrive in Dallas.

I WILL cut you

2009-07-27T15:27:00.000-07:00

So this happened a couple of weeks ago. But I thought you should know that I boned an entire pork leg, using just THIS.

Very impressive, no? Perhaps this is the visual mantra I will use whilst walking down the red carpet tonight.

The Rehearsal Dinner of Movie Premieres

2009-07-27T13:24:00.000-07:00

So tonight's the night! Well, a night, anyway. The L.A. "special screening" - Don't call it a premiere!!! - of Julie & Julia: The Movie! I'll not lie. I'm a little nervous. I might have to take a pill. Maybe just half of one. But I've got the cutest little dress and extensions like Ashlee Simpsin and the glitteriest shoes, that actually fit, even though I just got them fedexed to me and tried them on for the first time today, because the sun always shines on TV, and this is me possibly losing grasp of sanity, but probably just being a little over-excited.

Yeah. Maybe half a pill.

Swimming Pools and Movie Stars

2009-07-26T09:01:00.000-07:00

Headed out in a few hours for Los Angeles, there to see some old friends, get a little business done, and - oh, yeah - go to the LA premiereOops"Special Screening" of Julie & Julia. I last night had a vivid anxiety dream that went into great detail about the technical vagaries of setting up a video interview with me and Chris Messina, all while I couldn't find a way to get my dress pressed. It's possible I'm a tad nervous.

Sleepless In Seattle - Tired, but True

2009-07-25T08:00:00.000-07:00

So I was in bed at the crack of midnight last night... and up at 6. Irrevocably. Even though I have nothing to do today. It's ridiculous. I'm not going to be able to make it through the next week on six hours a night (and on some nights, I won't even have the option of six hours, my own bodily tempos notwithstanding) I have to sleep today. I'm going to throw my entire arsenal at it, pharmaceutical, alcoholic and literary, but I fear it just might not be enough. Maybe I need someone to come by and sap me or something. Get a little Raymond Chandler/Big Lebowski dream sequence going on.

Hen Parties are the Best Parties

2009-07-24T19:11:00.000-07:00

So I've had two of these so far on this tour: gatherings with women, most a bit older than me, combined with lots of food and a fair amount of booze (Gimlets, usually.) Much talk. Much laughing. These are among my favorite things in life. If I can keep living my life doing this I shall be very happy.

Hello Seattle!

2009-07-24T12:18:00.000-07:00

So, last time I was in Seattle, I wasn't entirely convinced, but I think now I can say I'm a fan. Not that I've eaten a thing or really seen much of anything outside my hotel room, yet. But everyone has been great and down to earth and casual, and the make-up artist had an extra-light touch, and soon I'm going to be fed a fabulous lunch. AND tomorrow I get a whole day off here, which is great. I need to find a cheap place to go get my nails done. And my arms waxed (HELLLLLOOO, Miss TMI! We've MISSED YOU!!!)

Someone somewhere has gotten a mistaken idea about me.

2009-07-23T06:00:00.000-07:00

I found this, along with a complimentary bottle of wine, last night when I arrived at my CORNER SUITE at the Four Seasons last night. Very nice, but so unnecessary as to seem a little creepy. Like I'm going to find out I'm in "The Prisoner" or something.

I did drink the wine though.

Also - yesterday morning, early, I got my hair and face done because I was going on to a local TV morning show in Detroit. I was all made up before I realized I hadn't had my vital morning Diet Pepsi. I sort of sighed aloud that I keep forgetting to bring straws so I can drink my soda without screwing up the stylist's lovingly applied lipstick.

When I arrived at Borders for my Q&A that evening in Chicago, there were eight straws of differing types on the table in the green room. Apparently the poor employees had been getting calls all day telling them that Julie Powell MUST have straws, and worrying that they didn't have the right kind, like maybe I'd throw a fit if I didn't have bendy straws.

This, my friends, is how diva-dom is born. Never fear though, I will resist the siren call of personalized water and readily available straws. Will have to, since after August 7 it's back to plain old Julie Land. Which is good enough for me.

... And On We Soldier....

2009-07-22T09:35:00.000-07:00

I would love to give those of you who might be interested the rundown of my schedule for the next week - unfortunately I do not know what it is. However, I basically know the rate and direction at which I'm moving through space. So, this is what I know:

Tonight, I'm in Chicago, doing a Q&A at the Borders in Oak Brook, on 16th Street, from 7 to 8.

Tomorrow, I wind up in Seattle at some point. I'll be there through Sunday morning. No idea what I'm doing there, but you'll know as soon as I do.

Fly into LA Sunday for the LA special screening the next day. Again, no clue how that day will progress, but if public appearances are involved I will let you know.

Monday in San Francisco, where I'll be doing something.

I seem to have lost a day somewhere, but Wednesday I'm in Dallas, and there events will be happening, not sure how public.

Then back, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, on the morning of the 30th, just in time to slam my ass into a salon chair and get myself all prettied up for the premiere.

This dears, is all I know at present. More to come....

Highs and Lows in Motown

2009-07-21T14:18:00.000-07:00

Starting low - waking up at 5 AM.

High - business class. Whoo-hoo!

Low - too early for booze. Even for me.

Arrival in Detroit. This is neither a high nor a low, simply a statement of fact.

High - Had an AMAZING session of eating, gabbing and drinking (it was noon by this point, not that I have to justify my drinking habits to you) with some of the most effusive, entertaining and incisive women I've ever been introduced to all at once in front of multiple cameras. I can't tell you how fascinating I found our conversation, and yes, by the end I was a bit tipsy. Which made it all the more fun. Thanks, ladies! (I will post the resulting Borders vids as soon as they're up.... even if I come off like a moron.)

Low - conversation about a reporter writing a story about people who hate me. Ah well.

High - Mm. Midday nap in quiet hotel room. Also, complimentary wine waiting!

Expected High - Q&A at the Birmingham Borders store tonight from 7 to 8. Please to come!

Surreal is the New Normal

2009-07-18T07:45:00.000-07:00

So, I spent eight hours yesterday, first in a butcher shop and then in an overgrown field, getting my picture taken with big knives, a bull dog, and a pig leg. And now this is what my refrigerator looks like:

I SWEAR TO GOD I'M GOING TO BE BETTER!

2009-07-15T06:21:00.000-07:00

Okay, so we're in the home stretch to the J&J: The Movie! release. (August 7th. Tell your friends.) And I'm going to be here more often, I swear. If I don't respond to all comments, it's simply because I'm going slightly insane at the moment, but I much appreciate them - even those from people who think I shouldn't take potshots at Republicans....

Now, this is a bit old news, but a couple of weeks ago I was awarded an honorary degree from the Cordon Bleu School in Paris. This is of course patently absurd, since I in no way can cook like a Cordon Bleu graduate, but I was truly honored, and had a fantastic, if slightly manic visit in Paris. You can see a few pictures here.

I was also last week at a "blogger event" last week in LA, at which I had a ton of fun and met some fabulous bloggers. Another coming up tomorrow here in New York, perhaps this time I'll even get pictures.

Off to do the audiobook recording for the next book. Yar.

Where I'm going to be tomorrow

2009-06-27T06:04:00.001-07:00

Everybody should come check this out. Lots of amazing people and incredible food. Be there!

A cool idea from a groovy lady

2009-06-22T05:47:00.000-07:00

Food writer Monica Bhide has come up with a nifty idea for promoting her excellent new book, Modern Spice - a virtual potluck dinner! And I'm in charge of drinks, unsurprisingly.

I went with Monica's Pomegranate Delight. It's a simple, refreshing summer cocktail, the pomegranate cutting the sweetness of the grenadine and rum. Quite a success, I'd say!

Here's how it's done:

Pomegranate Delight

Serves 1

Ingredients:

1/4 ounce (1/2 tablespoon) grenadine

1/2 ounce (1 tablespoon) store bought pomegrate juice (see Note)

1/2 teaspoon sweetened lime juice such as Rose's

1 1/2 ounces (3 tablespoons) white rum

Ice as needed

4 ounces (1/2 cup) chilled club soda

Mix the grenadine, pomegranate juice, lime juice and rum in a tall glass. Add ice and the club soda and stir gently. Serve immediately.

Note: You can use plain POM pomegranate juice for this recipe, or try one of the mixed varieties such as Pomegranate-Blueberry for an exotic-tasting cocktail. You can use pomegranate liqueur too, if you like - add 1/4 ounce (1/2 tablespoon.)

I drank two of these yesterday, very, very happily, while my husband slaved away at a borscht. The sun even came out! I credit the Pomegranate Delight.

Visit Monica's blog this evening and see who else is cyber-cooking what else from her fantastic, pretty much failsafe new book, Modern Spice.

One day I'll get better at this.

2009-06-04T12:14:00.000-07:00

Did a really fun interview today with Adam Roberts, The Amateur Gourmet, this afternoon, which you can listen to here. I'm not the most expert of interviewees - I'm a little rusty - but I'm working on sexy bedroom voice. Got any pointers? Send 'em on over!

I'm a movie!

2009-04-29T11:55:00.000-07:00

So, I didn't think this was getting released yet, but the J&J movie trailer has been leaked here. I'm a Nora Ephron movie! This should be slipping into theaters next month.

UPDATE: Since people have asked - J&J: The Movie! is scheduled for an August 7 release. I suppose that could change - I know very little about how these things work - but it won't change by much....

Of Pigs and Shills

2009-04-14T06:58:00.000-07:00

So - last Friday this prize of a guy wrote this Op-Ed for the New York Times. I apologize if you can't open that last link - in case you can't I will state his basic argument. Basically, his point is that buying pork from a local farmer who raises his animals humanely and doesn't pump them full of hormones and drugs WILL KILL YOU. He quotes a study that says that the incidence of salmonella is higher in free-range pigs than in "confined" (i.e., factory-farmed) ones. Now, the percentages he quotes are 54% vs. 36%, which seems like sort of a silly comparison to get all bent out of shape about. I mean, I'm going to get freaked out about half, but not about a third? And he reports in dread tones that 2 out of the 600 free-range pigs examined had trichinosis. TWO!!! And that if you were to eat the meat from these animals without cooking it, you could DIE!!!!

Mr. McWilliams then goes on to explain that because of this report, "foodies" should rethink their naive notion that when they're buying free-range they're getting the meat of wild animals, that free-range pork is cultivated as well. A point which I'm sure "foodies" everywhere are horrified to discover, because we all thought they were skipping around with unicorns in a primeval forest somewhere. And he ends by saying, basically, eat the factory-farmed stuff or don't eat pork at all, because pork grown locally, humanely and transparently WILL KILL YOU.

Well, guess what? This Editor's note has now been appended to the piece:

"An Op-Ed article last Friday, about pork, neglected to disclose the source of the financing for a study finding that free-range pigs were more likely than confined pigs to test positive for exposure to certain pathogens. The study was financed by the National Pork Board."

So fucking brilliant. OF COURSE it was.

Now, I understand the NYT's desire to get contrarian opinions into their paper. They once hired me to write a piece dissing on green markets (and it brought me a galaxy of fun, I'm here to tell ya.) But there's a difference. I wrote about some of the underlying class issues involved in shopping at green markets, and about a certain brand of smugness certain foodies exude when extolling perfect peaches. I did not quote a study by Del Monte saying that fresh locally grown fruit is POISON.

McWilliams is a shill, sure, and possibly evil - though he did write this book on pest control and maybe just has Asperger's or something. But The New York Times is who really deserves blame here. To publish something so deeply riddled with errors (McWilliams talks about 500 pound pigs, which is about twice as large as the average mature Berkshire pig), so damaging to a movement dedicated to humane farming, healthful food, and environmental responsibility - a movement that deserves, if not uncritical support, at least careful and respectful consideration - and so unthinkingly supportive of corporate farming, is deeply irresponsible.

The editor's note don't cut it, NYT....

Why I hate television

2009-03-25T13:00:00.000-07:00

I don't, in fact, hate television. How can I hate the medium that brought us Bea Arthur, Joss Whedon, Mighty Mouse, Jason Bateman, Neil Patrick Harris, the (original) Muppets and Tony Soprano? I cannot. BUT.

This thing on NBC News at 11 last week reminded me about the asinine evil that is so much of TV production. A feature on a wonderful photographer who appreciates and captures the individual beauty in women became, in the hands of hack producers, a condescending, vapid, and ultimately sort of semi-deliberately humiliating puff piece on "look how even fat girls can be made (sort of) hot!" Which is NOT what Isis is about, and NOT how I particularly wanted to be depicted in every taxi in NYC. But I should have known. It is, after all, TV. How many TV interviewers have asked me how much weight I gained during the J&J Project? How many of them have I sat opposite from and seen clearly that they'd never even cracked the book open?

But it's not just vapidity and laziness. It's a sort of built-in bent toward condescension and humiliation of women. And the worst thing is, I think some women in the media are more guilty of this than anyone else. Because of the risk of being run out of town on a rail, I'll not name a certain cabal of powerful, well-spoken women in print journalism who write so stylishly that their gleeful brand of neo-misogyny - or maybe it's just smugness - seems to float over people's heads. But I get angry in the same way, reading them.

I am so looking forward to the release of the J&J movie, and of "Cleaving" a few months after that. It's very exciting. What I'm not looking forward to is the next round of questions about my weight and what my VERY favorite recipe in MtAoFC is.

Also? I'm aware that these are pretty nifty problems to have.

End of line.

I keep saying I'll be back and then I keep disappearing again.

2009-03-19T11:24:00.000-07:00

Must be the excess testosterone.

Anyway, a couple of events:

1) The "Julie & Julia" trailer gets released tomorrow. Once I know where it can be viewed online I'll let you know. I've seen the movie, and the trailer. It looks like a trailer for a Nora Ephron movie, whatever that means to you.

2) Also tomorrow - I'm going to be on the New York NBC News at 11 in all my zaftig, be-skivvied glory. And after that? In every taxi cab in New York. Fun stuff.

UPDATE: Haven't found the trailer yet, but here's the excruciating spot on NBC. I got tons of airtime, presumably because I'm fat. Which I'm aware of. Any commenters who wish to make merry with the vast white expanse of corseted me will be firebombed. And I know how to make explosives with beef suet, so don't test me.

UPDATE II: I've been misinformed. Trailer isn't coming out until May. Sorry about that - for now only fat writers, no gorgeous accomplished actors.....

I can't get no self-satisfaction...

2009-01-27T07:44:00.000-08:00

It doesn't seem like such a terrible concept, "self-satisfaction." It seems, in theory, like a trait to aspire to. So why does it irritate the shit out of me, in practice? Among my friends and acquaintances there are very few self-satisfied specimens - I tend to attract and be attracted to neurotics and self-loathers, as a rule - so mostly I observe self-satisfaction from a distance. Blogs are a rich source, and op-ed pages. The Bush administration of course was a bonanza. In these instances smugness is infuriating but not without it's compensatory pleasures. ("Well, I may be a self-hating lazy fat old person, but at least I'm not a smug bastard!") When I note it in people I actually know, however, things get more uncomfortable for a lot of reasons, not just the most obvious one, which is that smugness is sort of a deal-breaker, friendship-wise.

I'm going to get in trouble for this, but I'll confess that this happens most with people I know who get pregnant. It's like some complacency switch gets turned on when spermatazoa penetrates egg. Dear fecund friends, please know I still love you, but I sometimes can't take you. That "glow" people talk of, that halo of self-actualization, drives me nuts. I should say here that not everyone I know who's gotten preggers has succumbed to this - I avoided my good friend Helen for months during her pregnancy, dreading that I would find her so changed, and was so extraordinarily relieved when I finally bit the bullet and went to visit her, and found that she was still her same sharp, funny, questioning self, who never once said anything to me like, "Having a child will be the best thing that's ever happened to you."

I should also say that I'm aware that this generalized irritation with breeders probably says more about me than it does about them. I'm sensitive about this subject, not so much because I haven't gotten pregnant yet as because I don't know if I want to, and in truth I'm a little worried about what that says about me. I find myself unfairly irritated by women who passionately want children, who spend years of their lives and tens of thousands of dollars that could be going to raising a kid who already exists, just to pass their precious DNA on to the next generation. It strikes me as arrogant - as self-satisfied. When I think of wanting a child, I think of it IN SPITE of the genes I'll pass on - the hysteria and ineptitude, the tendency toward plumpness and a certain hirsuteness, the, well, self-doubt.

And this is where it gets really fucked up. Because while I loathe, am totally allergic to, smugness in friends and acquaintances, in presidents and foodies, it's that very lack of doubt, that talent for happiness, that I most want any child I might have to possess. What is that? Envy? Probably, I guess.

And the worst part is that one person's smugness is another's confidence. What I see as the proficiency and cool of Obama I'm sure others see as arrogance. What I see as self-promotion others would explain, and rightly, as a healthy pursuit of a career. What I see as blithe assumption of specialness, many a pregnant woman would experience as the simple joy of making a new life.

And in what I see as semi-coherent ramblings about what I woke up thinking this morning, I'm sure many of you might see the smug assumption that anyone might give a shit.

So, um, nevermind.

Er, ooops.

2009-01-23T07:44:00.001-08:00

Hey, guys, sorry I've been out of the loop here for such a godawful long time. But hey! I'm back! Happy New Year, Happy Obama Administration, to you all!

It looks like my next book is actually going to come out, albeit not for a while. We're looking at August of 09 now, the release date is all mixed up with the movie release date, so it's a bit uncertain, but that's what I'm thinking. In service of the upcoming, I'm going to make an effort to actually blog fairly regularly; it one of my resolutions, along with: getting totally buff using nothing but Wii Fitness and a weekly half-mile run to the pet store, and not drinking until at least 4 pm. Wish me luck on these quixotic endeavors....

It's a Brand New Day.

2008-11-05T06:50:00.000-08:00

I'm not proud that this the song I woke with in my head, but there it is. Thanks to Joss Whedon for providing such a wealth of perversely appropriate material:

This appeared as a moral dilemma 'cause at first

It was weird though I swore to eliminate the worst

Of the plague thad devoured humanity it's true

I was vague on the "how" - so how can it be that you

Have shown me the light?

It's a brand new day

And the sun is high

All the birds are singing

That you're gonna die.

How I hesitated

Now I wonder why

It's a brand new day.

All the times that you beat me unconscious I forgive

All the crimes incomplete - listen, honestly I'll live

Mr. Cool, Mr. Right, Mr. Know-It-All is through

Now the future's so bright and I owe it all to you

Who showed me the light

It's a brand new me

I got no remorse

Now the water's rising

But I know the course

I'm gonna shock the world

Gonna show Bad Horse

It's a brand new day

And Penny will see the evil me

Not a joke, not a dork, not a failure

And she may cry but her tears will dry

When I hand her the keys to a shiny new Australia.

It's a brand new day

Yeah the sun is high

All the angels sing

Because you're gonna die

Go ahead and laugh

Yeah I'm a funny guy

Tell everyone goodbye

It's a brand new day!

Welcome to the future everyone. I can't wait.

I'm So Vain Again... But, really this time.

2008-11-03T05:02:00.001-08:00

So. I went to see a "rough" but basically finished cut of Julie & Julia last night. And I'm still sort of reeling from the surreality of it all. I mean, I thought I was more or less copacetic with the whole Life of a Memoirist. I'm relatively comfortable discussing relatively intimate details of my medical history, pet-ownership, cooking failures and sex life with strangers on the street. I see my name in magazines in very close proximity to names like "Meryl" and "Nora" and take it in stride.

But somehow seeing yourself - or a Rom-Com-ed, slimmed-down, considerably less foul-mouthed version of yourself - on a movie screen is a whole different thing. Well, it's not so much that, even. "Julie Powell" is a character, played by Amy Adams, who is lovely and great - I understand that, ingest it, am fine with it. It's stranger hearing Chris Messina (Yummy!!) referred to as "Eric Powell," and see him in an office tricked out with posters and books poached from Eric's actual office. It's stranger to see a set of our apartment, built by people who never saw our apartment, and see how creepily right it is in some particulars - the red cowboy hat, the brand of digital kitchen timer, the particular lamp or cookbook or poster on the wall.

Also? Strange having Meryl Streep (I would tell you about how amazing she is as Julia, and how fantastic Stanley Tucci is as Paul, but, really, was there a doubt?) sitting in the back row and hearing her laugh at jokes. And having her hug me (little internal squeal carefully internalized.)

Not so much strange as hilarious - in the last ten minutes of the movie a person who I was there with, who will remain unnamed due to issues of hilarious embarrassment, and with whom I'd had a conversation about checking cell phones, had her phone go off. The hilarious bit? The ring tone was "Dancing Queen."

I'm so vain, I probably think my book is about me.

2008-10-21T07:12:00.000-07:00

As has been pointed out in the comments: It turns out that Julie & Julia is about Martha Stewart!

I knew it! God, how could I have been so arrogant and stupid....

I love snide mockery

2008-10-15T08:13:00.000-07:00

As a general rule, I think that displaying open contempt for idiotic yahoos who make a habit of embarrassing the entire nation with their verbal garbage is a laudable pursuit. Truly. And the people interviewed here are, without a doubt, idiotic yahoos. But I think maybe the New York Times is making it just a little too easy for the Palin-loving, anti-reading, New York-hating crowd.

I just love that all these people are identified first by their jobs and secondly by their physical point in space, which is almost invariably in the parking lot outside a Wal-Mart. I mean, c'mon. You couldn't find some racists, like, in an office building? "Flo Wynette, a waitress at the Slo-Poke Diner, was interviewed while leaning against a wall outside the Piggly-Wiggly, smoking a menthol. 'I just wish those coloreds would stick to basketball." "Billy-Ray Harper, who sometimes drives a truck for the lumber yards here north of Mobile, was found picking his nose in front of the Winn-Dixie. "Y'know all those half-breeds are gay, right?"

Fish in a barrel, NYT. And, frankly, not helping. You piss off the southerners with brains, of which there are many, you uphold Yankees' offensive stereotypes, and make racism seem simple - just a matter of rednecks, morons and Jesus freaks.

Anyway. Rant ends here.

Buy This!

2008-10-09T09:53:00.000-07:00

So, please, everybody, go out and git yourself, doggonit, also, a copy of Casserole Crazy, the gosh darn great new cookbook by dear friend and just great insane person Emily Farris. All us New York Times readin' elites are gonna hafta git out there'n stir us up some comfort food for the End Times ahead, and you can't do any better than this. Also.

(Don't mind the Palinisms, the book is totally fantastic. Really!!!!)

Things I Am Rationally Afraid Of

2008-09-25T08:34:00.000-07:00

1. Signing a mortgage during the single worst week possible.

2. Cirrhosis.

3. Looking for love in all the wrong places.

4. Termites.

5. Writing memoirs.

6. Letting my babies grow up to be cowboys.

7. Low-rise jeans

8. My tendency to crave things I find at ABC Carpet & Home

9. Sarah Palin

10. For some unforeseen reason being unable to fully enjoy the glorious experience of Willie tonight at Rockefeller Center (Oh, no, wait. That's categorized under "irrational.")

Things I Am Irrationally Afraid Of:

2008-09-03T11:40:00.000-07:00

1) Maggots.

2) Talking on the phone.

3) Meeting with my editor.

4) Biting into my my fifth honeycrisp of the day and eating a worm.

5) Sporting goods stores.

6) Sobriety.

7) Flying.

8) Having some heavy object, like a gargoyle or an airplane part, fall on my head while I'm walking down the street.

9) My non-poisonous snake, which I've had for 16 years.

10) Checking my blog posts for comments.

Clearly, the psychoanalysis has not yet entirely kicked in.

This happens every summer.

2008-08-07T13:05:00.001-07:00

I swear to god, my cat isn't ill, and I'm not abusing him. Look at his beautiful face:

This is a feline of beauty. It's just a tad, well, touched. His name is Cooper. Those of you who read J&J will recall that this is the one of our three cats who chose to live in our ceiling for a few weeks a few years back. He's a smart guy, and gorgeous and sweet (well, except to Robert the Dog), but, well, we rescued him as a feral kitten from the coyotes and rattlesnakes of rural New Mexico, and he's never been just entirely right in the head. One of the results of this is that he really isn't so much with the grooming. Like, at all. And every summer he gets like this. I brush him and brush him - okay, maybe not just exactly as assiduously as I might, but still - and still winds up so hopelessly matted that he looks like he's wearing a felt jacket. It's horrible. So I trim him, bit by bit, a spot at a time until he freaks out and I have to stop. And by the end of the summer he looks like the Montauk Monster. Poor buddy.

Adulthood, here I come... maybe

2008-08-04T04:14:00.000-07:00

So, it looks very much like I might actually be buying a house. This terrifies me.

The house is up in the Catskills. It is small and beautiful with a pool and a wonderful screened in porch and the inspector says that the gorgeous emerald green moss growing on the roof isn't even damaging the shingles, so we can keep it. Oh, and we saw a snake on the property, big long black thing, probably three feet long or more, beautiful. So that's a good sign, right? And for breakfast I'm going to eat a tomato I stole from the garden.

Terrified.

A very short fiction.

2008-07-20T14:00:00.000-07:00

It is a hot day and she is limping (probably more theatrically than is truly warranted) on aching feet in stupid shoes that she wears anyway because they’re so damned cute. And suddenly in her head is an odd pop, a blinking into existence of something just slightly newer than the all the stuff around it.

The other day he said to her, “Look, I’m sorry she’s not talking to you.” The angry condolence did what it was meant to do; it awakened an answering anger in her. Not talking to you? What the hell kind of way was that to put it? Torturing you with silence, perhaps. I’m sorry she’s stomping loudly through the hallways of your heart in stiletto boots of absence, that might work. How did he dare belittle the horror of it, her constant scorching pain?

Over the past three years, her life has appeared to others, if she allows them to peer in, which she often does, event-filled, often amusing, occasionally exasperating, chock-a-block with all the usual small failures and victories and untidy endings and beginnings and middles. Snarls of string and stained coffee cups left on windowsills, beautiful green stones that are actually the smoothed shards of some Sprite bottle thrown into the ocean and beaten tumbling up against a shore in another hemisphere for a decade or two. A life in other words, not much different than other people's, probably quite a bit more fortuitous than most.

But she has not seen it that way. To her, her existence has been the stuff of high tragedy or at least grand melodrama. Which is how she’s preferred it.

But the thing about characters in melodramas is, well, they have to neglect so much to keep the story going. You rarely see a femme fatale reading a book, except as a ruse to unobtrusively spy on the spurning lover as he buys his train ticket in a echoing train station, heading home to the doting wife in the suburbs he doesn’t yet know has been kidnapped. No tragic consumptive heroine takes time off from her wilting and delicate coughs muffled by the bloodstained handkerchief then tucked demurely back into her sleeve to, say, take in a really good action movie or walk through the city on a sunny day just to enjoy the asphalt baking up through the soles of her fabulous orange flats, to pass shop windows full of stuff she can’t buy and probably wouldn’t if she could, but which still make her salivate and twinkle in delight as she gazes through the glass.

That’s what that little pop in her head says,

“He’s right you know. She’s just not talking to you. Just one more person on the planet who is at this time not saying words to you.”

She could hate the pop if she wanted. She could blink it back out again, squelch it entirely, with any one from her arsenal of highly effective dispelling rituals. But you know what? She thinks, surprisingly, that she’d rather read a book. There’s a paperback that’s been waiting for her for months now.

The inside lining of the impractical shoes are silver leather. Back in her apartment, when she takes them off, she notices that her toes are now glittering. Her feet look like she forgot to wash off all her Tin Man make-up. She picks up a Ross MacDonald from the top of her pile of paperbacks and heads out to the fire escape.

When exactly did Neil Patrick Harris become a national treasure?

2008-07-12T06:56:00.000-07:00

I didn't watch Doogie Howser. I've not been watching How I Met Your Mother, much. I haven't even - heaven forfend! - seen Starship Troopers. I have seen the first Harold & Kumar movie, though not the second. And yet I am aware that Neil Patrick Harris is one of the great gifts our country has bestowed upon the world. How has this happened? Of course the apotheosis of his delicious special-ness to date is on display here. But in watching this for the first time - I have now watched it so many more times than once it's rather ridiculous - the notion of his delectable wondertude was already implanted in my mind.

You know what I think it was? I think it was the way he came out.

"I am happy to dispel any rumors or misconceptions and am quite proud to say that I am a very content gay man...."

This was, what, two years ago now? And it still makes me smile, the though of how happy Neil is to dispel any rumors that he might be heterosexual. I love this guy.

Next up, Jason Bateman as awesomest sexiest man ever.

It might actually happen.

2008-07-04T07:45:00.000-07:00

Well, I've turned in the first draft of my book. And my editor has read it and called me and left me a message that makes it clear that she's not firing me. So, hell, a book might actually come out at some point. The title is "Cleaving," and it looks like they're preparing for a May '09 release date, so there you are.

Whew.

Now for that master cleanse. Aaaaannnnyyy day now.

Happy 4th!

Breaking: Unfancy food actually kinda fancy.

2008-06-30T05:14:00.000-07:00

So I went yesterday to the 2nd Annual Unfancy Food Show in Williamsburg, an answer to the hoity-toity oh-so-slightly-pretentious even t happening across the river. I attended it gladly, uncowed by thigh-sticky-making humidity, tightly-packed crowds armed with dangerous pork-on-a-stick, the occasional thunderous rainstorm and the odd self-esteem-deflating skinny hipster. I attended it to say hello to my friends Tom and Emily, and to meet new friends Cathy and Scott. But mostly I attended to eat lots of local chocolate and local ice cream and local honey and local pickles and local ricotta and local pork on a stick. And drink cheap beer and cheap wine and rather expensive bottled water from the Catskills. And all in all, unfancy is not the word I would use, except maybe for the tarps which shielded all the fancy food from the torrential rain. But yummy is a word that comes to mind.

Afterwards we ate meat and cheese and oysters and olives at Marlow & Sons down the street, after a walk through the rain and an incident with a rather bitchy bartender at Diner who couldn't quite get around to asking us if we wanted a drink, presumably because we weren't hip enough, but objected (bitchily, with much raising of eyebrows) to, of all things, an innocent pair of wet shoes placed on her bar. The nerve! But the meat and cheese and oysters and olives were great. Honestly, it was a sort of absurd alterna-foodie day, and now I'm feeling all food-bloggy with my shout-outs and my links, which always kind of makes me want to take a shower, but what the hell. There are far worse things. Than showers. Or alterna-foodie days.

For the annals, under "Irony"

2008-06-19T08:54:00.000-07:00

So I, Julie Powell, who has not been on the singles scene since a night at the roller skating ring was considered THE hot date, am being hit up for dating advice. Grub Street called my description of liver as the sexiest food ever "horrifying," which I find oddly gratifying. Glad to have shaken up the douchebags at New York Magazine. Because shaking up douchebags is, always, fun.

Oy.... I mean - "Exciting!"

2008-06-08T06:03:00.000-07:00

So, tonight I am going to pop my live-blogging cherry. I'll be at Avery Fisher hall in some dress or other, contributing posts here covering the 2008 James Beard Awards. Which is sure to be very glamorous, and I might even eat some locally grown foie gras or rhubarb gelato or something. I'll be typing away on my iPhone - at least so long as my crappy battery holds out - only it won't be quite as twattish as usual, because I'll actually be working. And I may talk to Jacques Pepin.

This is all very exciting. Except I'm completely going to make an ass of myself, I'm sure. But you know, if that's your thing, please do read along. I'll try to come up with a drinking game or something...

This is my mind on deadline:

2008-06-05T05:25:00.001-07:00

It's actually kind of gone over from being horrifying to just hilarious.

I need to meet some Hungarians.

2008-05-24T12:16:00.000-07:00

So, this came out awhile ago, but it was just pointed out to me that I really can't let the cover of the Hungarian translation of Julie & Julia come and go without comment:

There's a fish in the sky! A mouse in a tree! The sun is actually two fried eggs. A chicken is being held upright by a pair of pliers, and a sexy lady in a short nightie is digging around a refrigerator for a midnight snack. In a sheep pasture. Eric described it possibly best: "Chagall and Alice Waters having LCD-fueled sex on the Great Hungarian Plain."

I will just add, I need this guy's drug connection.

Mama never told me there'd be days like this...

2008-05-16T06:30:00.000-07:00

... but to be fair, I wouldn't have believed her if she had.

You know you're in a strange place when you start off your morning with a hug from and conversation about the current politics of high heels with Meryl Streep dressed as Julia Child and end it with a thorough, slightly drunken rewatching of the Battlestar Galactica miniseries, with a heaping helping of R train riding to get from the 34th street DMV to the Marshal's office in Bay Ridge, back up to the impoundment lot in East Williamsburg in the middle.

The glamour to drudgery ratio is perplexing.

I am 35 years old for chrissakes...

2008-05-14T15:12:00.000-07:00

... And I still cannot even remotely get my shit together.

My car got towed today. Second time in less than a year. For parking tickets, which arose because I have not renewed the registration on my car. Since it ran out... in January. Part of the reason I've not done this is that first I have to change my driver's license, which still has our old address on it. Instead of the address of the apartment I've been living in for TWO YEARS NOW.

I know there are pregnant homeless crack whores out there who have their shit less together than I do. Surely. But Fucking A.

And I need to lose 30 pounds. Stupid, but true.

Grrr. Argh.

I cannot WORK under these CONDITIONS.

2008-04-22T05:57:00.000-07:00

I mean, dude. C'mon. They are filming one single block from my house. I can see the set from my window. They've got this prettied-up version of our old Bronco, the one that had no rear window and mushrooms would grow in the back in the spring time. The movie one is a Jeep, and has a rear window. It also has a Texas bumper sticker and a WWF one (World Wildlife Fund, not Worldwide Wrestling Federation.)

And I'm expected not to stalk? Oh, please....

In agreement with Patton Oswalt on this.

2008-04-21T11:27:00.000-07:00

Birthdays just aren't what they used to be, are they? I celebrated mine primarily by not cleaning the house, catching up on Battlestar Galactica, and having more facebook friends than actual ones send me felicitations. Which is pretty much what turning 35 merits, I guess.

"Happy Anniversary!"

2008-04-19T05:39:00.000-07:00

...is what the roofers, who without warning rang our doorbell at 7:45 this morning, and who are now pounding around on our roof with very large boots and drills and much falling of plaster, did not say.

Seems indicative, somehow.

Sometimes they don't even make you work for it.

2008-04-16T04:47:00.001-07:00

Yesterday at 4pm. Union Square. I have twenty minutes to enjoy the (chilly still) spring sun, which I am taking with a bit of Nabokov on a crowded park bench. The kid next to me is showing to the kid next to him details of his next film project on his laptop.

Which he describes as: "'8 Mile' meets 'Bladerunners.'"

I don't think any comment is really necessary.

Male-Oriented Re-Installations

2008-04-09T05:39:00.000-07:00

So here I am, writing on our crappy second tier laptop because Eric decided he should install the new OS Leopard on mine, a matter of a few moments, he promised me, which is instead due to take two hours, with me on scary deadline, and I'm sitting here thinking about Michael Cieply. And thinking, men are mysterious and strange. Also, often, asshats.

So the New York Times wants to do an article on the next generation of "chick flicks," based, in part, on the release of the film of Julie & Julia. Who do they choose to write this article? Do they choose, oh, say, I don't know, a woman? Do they choose someone, um, insightful? Or do they choose a condescending regular from the cultural desk, an "insider", which means, among other things, that he's an ex-"producer" whose sole credit, according to IMDB, is a TV movie called Alley Cats Strike, about "a group of hip retro teenage outsiders who become involved in an interschool bowling [incredulous italics mine] rivalry"?

I have not seen Alley Cats Strike, but as an honest observer of male-oriented films, I think I can safely say that it is clearly a striking example of low-grade Lad-Flick - "if Hollywood still permitted the term."

I mean, Jesus, I don't know where to begin. How about with "female-oriented romantic films"? Now, to be fair, this is a minor point that just gibes with a current irritation of mine about the spate of articles about the mysterious "Woman Voter," as if we were some strange exotic bird to be watched and courted, rather than MORE THAN HALF OF THE GODDAMNED ELECTORATE. But that is not entirely observant Mr. Cieply's fault. And perhaps it is only New York Times-style stuffiness that leads him to define chick-lit - as if it were some up-to-the-minute new phenomenon rather than a phrase that entered the lexicon an ice age or so ago - as "books written for, and often by, professional women in their 20s.... [with] covers... bright and fluffy, with amusing illustrations...and an outlook... unabashedly feminine."

Unabashedly feminine. Yes, we females are so silly and dear with our femininity and whatnot. Ho ho, pip!

I say again. Asshat.

And he can call me a secretary, fine. I was. It's irritating, but accurate.

But to write of the movie as being about me and the "cooking enthusiast" Julia Child? COOKING ENTHUSIAST?!!! Pardon my french, but what the FUCK?!

I don't consider myself a raving old-school feminist, but this article makes me want to honestly observe male-oriented body parts by ripping them from male bodies.

Deadlines and Doldrums

2008-04-07T07:04:00.000-07:00

Sorry, guys, I've been an even crappier blogger than is usual, I am on desperate deadline, which has put me dreadfully behind on taxes, and then, to quote Rufus, "there's those other things, which for several reasons we won't mention," which have me often in bed late and passed out early.

Plus the weather blows.

And while we wait...

2008-02-20T13:48:00.000-08:00

... I thought now would be as good a time as any for one of my periodic clarifications regarding my feelings toward Republicans.

I do not hate everyone who votes Republican. I do not even hate all Republican politicians. However, I do pretty much despise everything the Republican party stands for. There are exceptions. There are a few platform points I find merely wrong-headed or mystifying, rather than repulsive. There's even a detail or two that, sure, I could see maybe getting behind, maybe, sometime. But mostly, yeah, I think it's all pretty heinous.

And it's pretty useless to make the argument that we're all the same under the skin and politics is meaningless. This is not a matter of taste - you're not arguing chocolate vs. vanilla. Neither is it a matter of heredity - it's not like I'm criticizing you because I happen to dislike, say, blue eyes. Who you vote for SHOULD reflect something real about what you believe in. And I reserve the right to make certain judgments about who you are based on what you believe in. What better basis for judgment could there possibly be?

So that's my answer. To my Republican fans. I have nothing against you. I'm sure you're all really fantastic people, especially to have the strength to wade through my passionate (read: possibly hide-bound) opinions, opinions you presumably don't share. Hats off. But that doesn't mean I don't think you're voting for bad, unsound, evil things, and that I do think that says something about who you are.

Sorry. What I think.

Exercising the old franchise still something of a chore in LIC...

2008-02-05T06:54:00.000-08:00

So they moved our polling station, out of the semi-abandoned building where I think they make plastic flowers sometimes, and into the court house. Which is is definitely a move toward 21st century western democracy, sure. But it would have been nice if someone had told us. The sweet old ladies at the polling station, when eventually we did get there, proudly trumpeted a confused 80-year-old man into his booth by announcing that he was "the only Republican we've had in here!" Another woman seemed to have not managed to vote - her light was still on when she left the booth - but a kindly official pulled the switch for her. Without letting her know or anything. Hey, she was halfway out of the building, and kind of in her own little world, so.... Oh, and I'm not on the voting list. Used a paper ballot. So that's one Obama vote flushed.

And now we wait....

I'm covering my windows with tin foil, Evil Necromancer Jobs!

2008-01-20T07:13:00.000-08:00

I know what you're doing. Don't think I'm not onto you, Stevie.

I woke up this morning clearly under some Blackberry-focused wiccan spell. While trying to retrieve my phone from a high shelf in the bathroom - not exactly sure how it got there in the first place - I stepped onto the bathroom scale and nearly tipped ass-over-tea-kettle into the bathtub. Other uncharacteristically graceless moves have spotted my morning. But while I recognized that I was under some sort of hex, it was not until half an hour ago that I realized, in a moment of stinging clarity, who was casting it.

My Blackberry pearl, just a few months old, a jaunty red thing that has survived theft in Africa, meat schmutz in upstate New York, and endless pants calls and obsessive texting, was quietly charging on a table in the living room. I'd just picked it up to look in on its progress when Eric, in the kitchen, called out excitedly that I should come see the gelatinous substance that had emerged from the mason jar of six-month-old iced tea he was pouring out into the sink. Understandably thrilled, I turned to go to him while setting the Blackberry back down. But instead the cord somehow caught on my sleeve - dark magicks! - and my PDA went flying through the air in a fantastical arc - straight in to Robert the Dog's freshly filled water bowl.

This is something I can't even really by mad about. God has spoken. Or Steve Jobs. Same difference.

Julie, says God-Jobs, You must buy an iPhone.

Who am I to disobey God's will?

Steve Jobs must die

2008-01-09T10:48:00.000-08:00

Already my iPod that I got a year and a half ago can't hold a charge for more than fifteen minutes. That grates, not so much for the music lackage per se as for the vision of the vast fields of dead iPods littering the earth, and no effort by the bazillionaire world-saving genius who makes them to figure out to solve that particular problem.

And now the laptop. Which I've had a little over a year. Dead. Suddenly, irrevocably, mysteriously dead. All my data - i.e, my BOOK - gone. I had some of it backed up. I might - MIGHT - be able to get the rest of it through data retrieval, for the piddling sum of $850.

My friend Emily's just died too, today. Hard drive gone. Poof.

I'm really considering assasination options here.

Have a very, merry, etc...

2007-12-21T12:54:00.000-08:00

Well, I'm off to Santa Fe tomorrow for the holidays, there to eat a great deal of chiles red and green. It's been a good year - or rather I should say, the year ended a HELL of a lot better than it started, for me personally, which is all we can hope for in this world, no? I'm so pleased, in fact, that the fact that you can't get a smoked ham hock for love or money in this town is not enough to dishearten me.

Keeping Cool is Getting Difficult.

2007-12-10T07:12:00.000-08:00

So, everything I ever learned about the J&J movie I read on random online newsfeeds, so I don't know how much of this is true, but there are rumors a-flying about the folks signing on for this thing that is apparently really maybe going to happen... Nora Ephron is pretty much a lock - as much as these things can be locks - and all signs point to yes for Meryl Streep and Amy Adams. (Please to knock on your largest available piece of wood. (And don't be gross, dude.)) Now I hear a little tale that Stanley Tucci just might be playing Paul Child, which is just about as awesome as it gets.

Pleasepleasepleaseplease....

My new beauty regimen.

2007-11-19T10:36:00.000-08:00

Wow. The whole world-traveller vibe sure works wonder on your old sex appeal. I mean, paired with the red lipstick and short skirt and high heels and loss of six pounds, I mean. Gosh.

I could get used to this shit, I'm telling you.

I'm just hoping that faint hissing sound I'm hearing is not New York slowly sucking away every breath of self-confidence and jaunty sexiness this trip filled me up with.

Japan

2007-11-14T22:41:00.000-08:00

So I had these fantasies that I would go native in Africa. Learn to speak Swahili, have a little concrete hut for a house, live out my days with a kerosene stove, a mosquito net, and some Safari beer in this exhilarating, dark, beautiful place.

And then I got to Japan.

You know what I like? 400 thread count sheets. Also drinking water from the tap. Also not being asked to lend someone $50,000 for a land rover every time I got out with them for a beer. Also, being able to drink something other than beer.

Japan is adorable - I've not yet seen the love hotels and creepy porn, and as it is snowing out and I'm just about adventure-ed out, I may not. Who cares? As long as I can get a massage in my room, I am feeling good about life.

I'm not proud. But at least I'm honest.

Mzungu observations

2007-11-08T00:27:00.000-08:00

Got back yesterday from two days spent in Eloui, a Maasai village up on this mountainside near Kenya. Mindbogglingly beautiful, and a way of life at once intimidatingly difficult and alluring. You get used to sights like four-year-olds industriously washing remnants of cow blood out of tin cups with dirt and dung so they can drink some tea. The second night I slept in the Orpul, which is a sort of Maasai boy's club-cum-field hospital. Ate all sorts of raw goat parts, drank tea made of various roots mixed with goat meat and fat, and slept on a bower of green branches under the stars, which is not as comfortable as you might think. Was entranced by all of it, but sure was ready for a shower, a nap and a beer, in that order, when I got back to Arusha.

And she's off.

2007-10-28T23:08:00.001-07:00

Getting on a plane to Tanzania today, and don't imagine I'll be much in contact for the next 2 weeks. Everyone have a nice November, and send Eric good thoughts for his marathon Sunday!

What happened while I was not in Kiev.

2007-10-27T08:16:00.000-07:00

I just got back to Kiev from Kolomyia in western Ukraine. I didn't get as much meat sight-seeing done as I might have hoped but I had a fantastic time. The B&B where I stayed, On the Corner, was wonderful. Most especially wonderful was the food, courtesy of the owner Vitaly's mother, Ira. Oh. My. God. She is an absolute master. Her cooking is fantastic, but watching her is almost as amazing. I love watching a home cook who is just an absolute paragon of efficiency and skill. It was funny, I speak nary a word of Ukrainian, and she speaks very little English, but we managed to converse fairly well about food. I'm nowhere the cook she is, but at least I know enough to ask the right questions, and she knew enough about the right questions to ask that she understood me. I have determined that I must go back and learn everything she knows.

I met two sausage makers, neither of whom I will talk of at great length because I'm saving it for the book, save to say that they were great characters. Especially Misha with his taxidermy and animal-loving and Yulia Timoschenko obsession... But I've said too much.

And Hurrah for my interpreter Oksana! We must all pray that she gets into the Wagner School at NYU, because she deserves it and because I want to hang out with her more.

Now, though, I'm going to go find an expat bar and hang out. I need a cocktail and Ameri-speech. Call me weak, I can take it.

Feeling better, in an obscurely melancholic, Eastern European way

2007-10-21T01:03:00.000-07:00

Ate goulash. Saw big statues and lovely autumnal parks. Watched the ballet. Feeling much more on top of things, though Cyrillic continues on mysterious. And tonight I ride on a sleeper train to western Ukraine. All in all, much better. I'm getting ready to meet my guide for the day, a fill in for Oksana, who is taking her TOEFL today. He sounds awfully hearty and American, and I'd really rather hole up somewhere with a small vodka and a large tome of Babel. But one must soldier tourist-ly on. Besides, I've got no hotel anymore.

Kiev, Day the Second

2007-10-19T23:58:00.000-07:00

So my first impression of Kiev wasn't so good. The receptionist at my hotel was spectacularly rude, the city is, while at times lovely, at other times really crappy, and navigating a town in which I am ignorant not only of the language but of the ALPHABET is waay harder than I had anticipated. I thought I was going to have to eat at McDonald's.

Instead, I got sausage from a woman by the side of the road and bread from a little bakery and a beer. None of it was fantastic - well, maybe the beer - but it was a damned sight better than McDonald's, and the kids in the bakery were very impressed that I was from New York, and then I took a sleeping pill and went to sleep (and if you nag me about drinking one beer and then taking a sleeping pill I WILL punch you), and today I'm feeling much better. The fact that I'm going to have a guide doesn't hurt even a little bit.

Off to take in the Soviet architecture now.....

This is it.

2007-10-18T04:52:00.000-07:00

I am off. Into the wilds of Carpathia, Tanzania, Hokkaido. Ready to eat all manner of creepy foodstuffs.

And I'm not bringing my computer.

This is, I know, somewhat akin to me not bringing, you know, my skin. But that's sort of the point. To move skinless through the world for a bit.

If I am able to I will post now and then. Maybe even pictures, though those might have to wait for my return.

I hope you all have very very happy months, and that I return slimmer from a slight case of dysentery and, well, alive.

Movie Madness

2007-10-03T13:22:00.001-07:00

Okay, so I don't know if I can express this cogently, but I'm going to try because its funny.

So. The production designer for the movie that just might really be getting made of my book called me up and asked if we could get into our old apartment to take a look. I said I thought maybe not, because the "For Sale" sign that had been up in the cracked picture window for a year had just gone down and I thought my old landlady probably couldn't get us in anymore. So he decided he'd like to just wander around the area, take a look from the outside. I gave him a (it turns out wrong) address.

I get a call from him a few hours later, which I miss. He leaves a message saying the address doesn't seem to exist, wondering if I can help. I call him up a few minutes later, realizing my mistake, with the new address.

But he was standing in front of it. Not only that, but he'd several days previous come out on an LIC jaunt to make a preliminary photo tour, and he'd taken a picture of our buliding, not as a "this is where they lived" pic, but as a "wouldn't it be awesome if this is where they lived" pic.

Our lives really were just as picturesquely grotty as I wrote. Awesome.

PS In my favorite movie no one else likes, "Joe Vs the Volcano." Joe works in LIC. And though it's a stage set, the skyline makes clear that it's totally true to life.

More than just cellulite-burning shoes.

2007-09-10T06:06:00.000-07:00

I really need to get my trip to visit the Maasai organized. I could do it through a tour group, but I'd really prefer to get info from folks who are actually kind of in the know. So if you have any firsthand info on people to contact/things to know, please please PLEASE let me know ASAP.

For others, the day is a happier one, though....

2007-09-06T11:20:00.000-07:00

Free at last, free at last... Dear Linus is free at last!

what's sad...

2007-09-06T08:04:00.000-07:00

... is not that I am sitting with a hungry snake around my neck thinking of strangling me while 6 mice sit in a flimsy cardboard box in the sink of my bathroom, which I can't get into because the key broke in the lock some months ago and I never dealt with it and now something happened and the door locked of its own accord.

What's sad is that I'm not even surprised. This is totally typical. How many people can say that?

Lest you suspect...

2007-08-31T12:03:00.000-07:00

...that I exaggerate for literary effect:

The Maggot Incident happened again. This time an unwashed pot of chicken saag was to blame.

I need to take myself out back and shoot myself, I am so disgusted and disgusting. And I can feel them crawling all over me. yeeeeeahashshgh.

auaaughgahagghaghhhh.

2007-08-22T08:31:00.001-07:00

Fucking eye infection.

The Ways That People Suck: Example #3,528.

2007-08-16T09:55:00.000-07:00

So my husband edited this wonderful little piece for Archaeology Magazine.

Brilliant, no? Eti Bonn-Muller did a great job, and Eric will go down in history, if there is any justice, for coining the phrase "Brotzi."

Now, since the piece came out, three dried-up fucks* have written letters saying they're cancelling their subscriptions because they don't want to see Brad Pitt all up in their archaeology house.

Idiots.*

Do your part for all that's good in humanity and drop Archaeology a line. And may your words be a line in the sand against the forces of humorlessness and overreaching self-regard.

*Please note that the opinions expressed in the blog post are not endorsed by the editorial staff of Archaeology Magazine. The view that these people are dried-up fucks is entirely personal on my part.

At long last I'm evil!

2007-08-13T19:07:00.000-07:00

So I'm reading my Atlantic Monthly today, a piece about the essential immorality of gourmets - a position I have a certain amount of sympathy with. So imagine my surprise to find my book quoted - extensively! B.R. Myers takes issue with my account of lobster killing; the passages apparently indicate that I am hostile "to the very language of moral values."

Finally, someone gets me!

Seriously, though, I actually do feel like his point is fairly dubious. He seems to think that I'm all about mocking people's sensitivity to the lobster killing, but that isn't the case at all. On the contrary, my lobster chapter was all about the real hesitancy I had to boil the lobster, which I was doing at Julia's explicity behest. Yes, I make with the funny. But I laugh at all manner of offensive shit - the lobsters are just getting the same treatment I give everybody else. Better, even; can you imagine the heights of crassness I'd have reached if I'd been writing about boiling Karl Rove?

All this to day, thank you, Mr. Myers. You hate me, you really really hate me, and that is sort of awesome.

Julie Powell: Author, Bon Vivant... Vegan?

2007-08-07T06:09:00.000-07:00

So, got back from Argentina, went to the doctor. Looks like Julie is going on the straight and narrow for awhile. My cholesterol is, apparently, a BAD scene. And this was from blood taken BEFORE Buenos Aires. Jeesh. So I'm off the red meat and dairy. Have also taken it upon myself to quit drinking and smoking (well, mostly.) Doing yoga. Living like a goddamned monk.

What is sustaining me as I pass through this vale of tears? Two things. First, my discovery of the delightfully goofy Flaming Fire:

More importantly, though, is the green market in August.

I know I've always been a greenmarket naysayer, and I still am annoyed by some of the smug foodies who shop there. But the market itself is great - the tomatoes this year are enough to live on. Which is good, because they're pretty much all I can eat.

Not pictured - Hatch green chiles!!!!! Heaven! Though it's hard to think of anything I want to eat with them that doesn't involve cheese and/or bacon.

Home again home again, jiggity jog....

2007-07-18T07:52:00.000-07:00

First best thing about returning to New York - being able to speak to your cab driver like an adult of average intelligence.

Second best thing about returning to New York - dogs, cats, and husbands I don't have to wash my hands with anti-bacterial soap after touching.

Third best thing about returning to New York - my bartenders!

Least best thing about returning to New York - what the apartment looks like once I'm half done with unpacking.

Found it!

2007-07-14T13:36:00.001-07:00

Some illustrations to follow:

What I'll miss.

2007-07-14T12:20:00.000-07:00

(My shitty camera seems to have gone missing. So this will have to be a photo-less trip down memory lane.)

1) Steak. Obviously.

2) Stray dogs. Argentinian stray dogs are like the perfect canines. They are well-mannered, look after themselves, don't speak unless spoken to, but speak with calm affection when asked. They make little tours of whatever neighborhood they call home, lying in front of one doorway, then another. I am sad again that my shitty camera has gone missing because I had this picture of a particularly wonderful specimen, regal and shaggy as a wolfhound, lying in the doorway of the church at San Antonio de Alecro.

3) Milanesas. I am really sad that my shitty camera has gone missing because I wanted to show you a picture of a milanesa napolitana, which is a chicken fried steak, typically about twice the size of one's head, topped with ham, cheese, and tomato sauce. Whenever I eat one of these I become momentarily convinced that there is a god, and that he is an Italian stoner.

4) cheek kissing. I've become a huge fan of cheek kissing, so long as it isn't followed up by an attempt to stick a tongue down my throat.

5) My kitchen, which is so small and ill-equiped that there was never even a question that I might try to create my own sustenance even once while I was here.

6) beautiful, beautiful Buenos Aires. My shitty camera never could express how beautiful this city is. I want to come back already.

What I won't miss:

Showers with hot water. The bitch of it is, as soon as I get to New York I will crave crawling under and icy downpour every morning.