Wednesday, December 15, 2010

Buckwheat pasta & cinema

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At this very moment I am doing a few things:

1) letting my mascara dry 2) simmering pasta sauce 3) procrastinating laundry 4) sipping reheated coffee 5) writing a review for the movie Julie and Julia.

The mascara I layered on extra thick because my wonderful husband and I attending an event tonight at the Getty, where Peter Greenaway will talk about his dialogue with the masters, his use of reproductions, and his ideas for the future.

I haven't seen any of his films: The Draughtsman's Contract (1982), a reputation consolidated by The Cook, the Thief, His Wife, and Her Lover (1989), Prospero's Books (1991), The Pillow Book (1996), etc., but I trust this will be an  interesting event.

I'm simmering pasta sauce because I haven't cooked anything significant in the last two days, aside from eggs for breakfast and breaded talapia and fries in the toaster oven. Living on take-out, fast food and decadent sushi is great, but guilt takes its toll accordingly, when one's gently striving to be an ideal wife.

Watching Julie and Julia this morning inspired me to make something from scratch, so I chopped a red onion, minced a few garlic cloves, sauteed them with salt and pepper until caramelized, then added Italian sausage, tomatoes, an ample amount of fresh basil from my plant outside, and two medium-sized anchovies.

Now all I have to do is simmer the concoction for a few hours, stirring it, so that it doesn't stick to the bottom of the pan, and let the ingredients melt together for sweetness and depth.

The pasta I will boil when it's time to eat. It's buckwheat fettuccini tonight. Like the guy from Little Rascals.

Regarding the previously mentioned chickflick about Julia Child, writing movie (and sometimes book) reviews has become an addiction, or maybe it's a habit. I've always been a collector, since I was a child, everything from pencils and stickers, to coins I collected and stashed away like treasures. It's fun to diversify.

If obsessions are impossible to dissipate, only to be replaced by other obsessions, perhaps in my adulthood I've learned to collect more practical things, such as skills, friends, or even bits and pieces of culture represented by books and cinema, by trying new foods and drink, travel, or by keeping journals--interesting experiences in general are a great motivational factor for living. That, and love.

A review for Julie and Julia will bring me one step closer at 298, to 300, a solid number. I'm not sure what will happen to my momentum when it's time to write 301. Will I write reviews until I die? Will I have thousands under my belt one day? Imagine having thousands of movies in the brain. It's a nice thought, actually. Or perhaps I will only practice the religion of cinema as long as I reside in Los Angeles. But who knows how long that will be.
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