** climbs onto soapbox**
Got an interesting response from my Twitter pal Djd323232 that surprised me a bit…“Just curious - doesn't the complete lack of respect for women on that show drive you nuts?”
I responded that “it did at first. Along with the constant smoking. But I have been able to put it into context. it is a true sign of the time… it just solidifies the authenticity of the prog (sic). i'm not fussed. the show's about more than that for me...”
We went on to have a spirited and respectfully civil discussion about this issue, both making our points.
But it got me thinking. For a while. About my gender and history and treatment and where I stand and what I do.
It was my first real job out of college. I was the Bright Young Thing in my office. Passionately opinionated, wearing my liberal idealism on my sleeve. Experientially naïvely naïve, as only a 23-year-old can be. I toiled as a print production coordinator for a company that distributed corporately-produced educational films – while I had a desk in a cubby, I basically worked in a plant. With many folks, male and female, who’d been with the company since before I was born.
To say there were generational differences would be an understatement.
Not only was I young, I was female.
And while there was NEVER the slightest hint of sexual harassment, there was some sexual, for lack of a better word, discounting.
The first time the swarthy genial warehouse manager called me “sweetheart” I let it slide, chalking it up to being just a random thing. After the fifth time, it was obvious that using such terms was part of his regular vernacular.
And it really bugged me. A lot.
I was already on my feminist soapbox around the office anyway – the “executive” suite of offices had only a men’s room and the fact that there was no ladies’ room irked me.
What can I say – I was a very idealistic, Mary Richards-esque 24 years old. Give me a purpose, a perceived injustice, a cause – I’d take it on. Give me any rule, I’d break it…
Anyhoo.
I mentioned my youthful feminist complaints to my office bestie, a wonderfully wise and seasoned woman nearly 20 years my senior. Who knows why we were friends – we just hit it off. She gave me some very wise counsel that calmed me down and squelched the flames coming off of my hypothetically burning bra.
She reminded me that I was of a different generation than the gentlemen with whom I was working. And that for them, the use of the word “sweetheart” or “dear” meant nothing condescending or demeaning. It’s just how they communicated. Nothing more, nothing less. If anything, these guys used it with affection. And I simply needed to put it into context.
I’ve mellowed a bit since those days, at least in this regard. I’m still all about Doin’ It for My Gender, but I like to think I’m more mature and clear-headed now with my actions and attitudes – remembering to take all things into consideration and looking at a situation from all angles.
And it’s that attitude which allows me to watch Mad Men without going ballistic regarding the treatment of women in the program. As out of place (and frankly, abhorrent) as it seems now, it’s true to the time in which the show is set. I can see where this might bother some – and I respect that – but I’m simply choosing to check my 21st century mores at the door and watch it from a creative and storytelling standpoint. It’s a trick I honed in graduate school, when I had to set aside my religious and moral perspective to fully understand certain authors and their messages.
It works for me. Your millage may vary.
Regardless. Context. Not a bad thing to keep in one's toolbox.
Four cars pulled up to the stop light on the one way street (heading east) at the same time. All various soccer mom type mobiles (though none, curiously, was a Volvo. Eternal love from me if you get that reference.) I, commanding the road in my Honda Pilot, was in the center and killed some time at the light (Will was in the back seat singing along with Puddle of Mudd... "She BEEEEPin hates me... la la la la.") to check out my fellow drivers. All of us, including me, had notebooks propped up against the steering wheel, reading with interest.
So here's the deal. Will and I have been a dynamic duo for ten days now. Just the two of us. Together. 24/7.
I'm about to lose my mind from all the "togetherness." And my usual usuals are a little off plumb. Like the timing of Meme Monday. It's not even Monday anywhere in the world at the moment.
I am all about making an entrance though... so here you go. Enjoy.
What color is your toothbrush?
Purple and white. Motorized. Very badass.
Name one person who made you smile today?
Will, of course! Followed by my girlies, natch.
What were you doing at 8 am this morning?
Changing the sheets on a bed
What were you doing 45 minutes ago?
Making Young William’s breakfast. Which today involved oatmeal and vanilla pudding because we're running low on yogurt. Yeah. I know.
What is your favorite candy bar?
Zero Bar
Have you ever been to a strip club?
Yes... shhhh.
What is the last thing you said aloud?
Damn – I **am** going to have to do laundry.
What is your favorite ice cream flavor?
Pralines and cream
What was the last thing you had to drink?
Water with my FRS mix-in.
Do you like your wallet?
Actually, yes. It's pretty awesome. For a wallet.
What was the last thing you ate?
Maple Nut Clif bar
Have you bought any new clothing items this week?
Nope. Yay me! But it’s only Tuesday.
The last sporting event you watched?
Last night’s heartbreaking Rays game. Sigh.
What is your favorite flavor of popcorn?
Regular old plain
Who is the last person you sent a text message to?
Patty
Ever go camping?
Ugh. Yes. (my idea of camping = no room service)
Do you take vitamins daily?
Yep
Do you go to church every Sunday?
We try, but schedules and illness can get in the way…
Do you have a tan?
Kind of – my appendages are tan from working out outside.
Do you prefer Chinese food over pizza?
Nope
Do you drink your soda with a straw?
Only fountain soda
What did your last text message say?
It was from Twitter telling me I had a Direct Message.. boo yah!
What are you doing tomorrow?
Meeting with The Trainer and taking Will to feeding therapy. Plus laundry. Apparently.
Look to your left, what do you see?
Basket of folded laundry. Are you sensing a theme here?
What color is your watch?
Gold/silver
What do you think of when you hear Australia?
Swimmers, baby. Rowrrr.
Do you go in at a fast food place or just hit the drive thru?
If I go, it's the drive-thru
What are your favorite numbers?
7, 27
Who's the last person you talked to on the phone?
The Mister
Any plans today?
Nothing concrete -- might go to the beach, actually. Or finish cleaning some closets, thanks to some inspiration from my girlie cajunvegan. And then there's that laundry...
How many states have you lived in?
Just one – the F-L-A.
Biggest annoyance right now?
The piles of stuff yet to be taken to Goodwill that keep multiplying. With my beloved child running a close second. When does school start again?
Last song listened to?
“He Loves Me”/Jill Scott
Can you say the alphabet backwards?
Probably. Just take my word for it.
Do you have a maid service clean your house?
Sadly, no
Favorite pair of shoes you wear all the time?
My New Balance trainers
Is anyone jealous of you?
Please. SO doubt that.
Do you love anyone?
You betcha.
Do any of your friends have children?
But of course!
What do you usually do during the day?
Work out, domestic goddess things, chauffeur Will, write, net surf, watch the Rays game.
Do you hate anyone that you know right now?
Hate’s a very strong word – let’s just say there are a couple of people I really really don’t like. At all.
Do you use the word 'hello' daily?
Uh, yes -- when I answer the phone. The operative term there being “when”
What color is your car?
Grey/green
Do you like cats?
Yes. I miss my Roxanne every day.
Are you thinking about someone right now?
Yeppers
Have you ever been to Six Flags?
Many moons ago -- in ATL
How did you get your worst scar?
Fibroid tumor removal stuff. Ugh. And ouch.
Normally, I don't get all a'twitter about a movie's opening, but there's a film coming out today that's got me a little excited.
It's "Julie & Julia", based on the novel of the same name and featuring the inimitable Meryl Streep as Julia Child.
So, why in the hell do I care?
I have a couple of reasons. Wanna hear them? (Just say yes -- it'll be easier for all of us)
First, I loved the book. Not that film adaptations of literary works always live up to expectations (or their source material) but this is a unique piece.
Second, and more importantly, I've got a vested interest in this whole thing. For something I wrote right here on my little blog is part of a newspaper feature about the movie.
In other words, a bit of my random blatherings have been put in black and white, shoved into bags and tossed onto lawns across my fair community.
While I've been "in" the paper before as a interview about this, that or the other, I've never had anything I've **written** published.
Pardon my giddiness, but I'm a little excited.
A Twitter pal of mine, a gent called Jeff Houck, is the Food Editor for the Tampa Tribune. He tweeted asking if anyone was a Juila Child fan. I responded saying yes and shared the link to my blog piece about the great lady as "proof", so to speak.
And the rest is history. Heh.
Have a hankering to check it out? (Just say yes -- it'll make me happy)
Groovy. Here you go: Tampa Tribune Julia Child feature
Wanna know something interesting? I'm still being inspired by Ms. Child. This little bit of affirmation has encouraged me to think big and revisit dreams.
To investigate taking serious cooking classes in Manhattan.
To pursue writing and 'netting about my dual passions of food and sports (not together though -- can you imagine? Maybe...)
To live life full of life and joy and abandon. To be full of genuine life.
So there you are.
And because I cannot resist (just humour me -- I may never pass this way again), here's the original blog piece which started it all.
Enjoy.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The only real stumbling block is fear of failure. In cooking you've got to have a “What the hell?” attitude.
~ Julia Child
It was my Saturday afternoon ritual. Make a sandwich. Grab a cold drink. Go to my room. Shut the door. Turn on the TV -- a little black and while model. Change the channel to our local PBS station. Settle back into my black bean bag chair. And wait for that jaunty theme music.
I was twelve years old.
And Julia Child was my idol.
It was French Chef time.
Life itself is the proper binge.
~ Julia Child
I don’t know where I got my intense, passionate, almost obsessive love of cooking. My paternal Grandma was a damn good cook; my maternal Nana wasn’t bad. My mom cooked, but it wasn't her passion.
But me -- I not only inherited the cooking gene from my ancestors, I got bit by the culinary bug as well. My earliest memory is of my four-year-old self being lifted up to take a look at the Thanksgiving turkey roasting in the oven.
And I did time with a couple of kids cookbooks -- pouring over the Betty Crocker Cookbook for Boys and Girls like it was the Magna Carta, devising menus and mentally tinkering with recipes.
For some reason, my mother had a subscription to Bon Appétit magazine. Every month when the latest issue arrived in the mailbox, it spent about two days on the family room coffee table, then disappeared into my room. I cut recipes out like a girl possessed, treating them as lovingly as I did my pin-up poster boys from Tiger Beat. I’m not sure what I was thinking, as at that point in my life (and my family’s taste buds), there was no way I would be making 40 Cloves of Garlic Chicken, but I had the recipe. Just in case.
I don’t remember what brought me to my Saturday afternoons with Julia. Chances are I read about the programming lineup in TV Guide and just tuned in one day. Instantly hooked.
I watched Julia, with her non-intimidating style and deceptive skill, move ‘round her TV kitchen and create dishes the likes of which I’d never seen before in my home kitchen. Salade niçoise. Chocolate Mousse. Veal Prince Orloff. Which, of course, I knew about, thanks to a favorite episode of the Mary Tyler Moore Show.
Never use water unless you have to! I'm going to use vermouth!
~ Julia Child
So imagine my delight when under the Christmas tree in December ‘77, I found this.
Between that and the other fab book I received that year (Scarlett Fever - The Ultimate Pictorial Treasury of Gone With the Wind) I spent all of the 25th and most of the 26th reading until my eyes grew heavy with exhaustion.
As I read though my new treasure, my mind pondered all the possibilities. What would be the first thing I would make under Julia’s guidance and following her directions... which recipe would be the one that I would use as my jumping off point into the world of serious cooking.
The answer soon became apparent: French onion soup.
Onion soup sustains. The process of making it is somewhat like the process of learning to love. It requires commitment, extraordinary effort, time, and will make you cry.
~ Ronni Lundy
The recipe looked simple enough. Not many ingredients to bog down a new cook. Nothing too unusual to intimidate. And it was something that everyone in my immediate family might dig.
And so I began a ritual that I would continue to this day. I’ve been making Julia’s French onion soup for thirty years. Happily. When I was single and living on my own, it was my family’s traditional Christmas Eve dinner -- everyone would come to whatever hovel I was living in at the time for soup, salad, wine and conversation after the Christmas Eve church service. These days, I make it when the air turns cool and the palette craves a bit of familiar sophistication.
My cooking technique has improved over the years, as have the tools of my trade. And I think the soup I make now reflects the maturity of its creator. But honestly, there was something so perfectly delicious about those first batches of soup my idealistic teenage hands made. I infused the hearty melange with my youthful enthusiasm and zest. It in turn gave me confidence and a sense of self not known before. I wooed men with my soup. I cared for ailing friends with my soup. I helped to ease the grieving process of loved ones with my soup.
While poking around for pictures and whatnot to accompany this little piece, I did some reading about Julia and her life and accomplishments. The most interesting tidbit -- and the one I shall remember always -- was what she had for her last meal the night before she passed away.
French onion soup.
Bon Appétit!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Julia’s Soupe à l'oignon
3 Tb. butter
1 Tb. olive oil
1 1/2 lbs. or about 6 cups thinly sliced yellow onions
1 t. salt
1/2 t. sugar
3 Tb. flour
6 cups organic beef broth
1 c. red wine
1 bay leaf
1/2 t. rubbed sage
salt & pepper
Melt the butter with the oil in a dutch oven and add the sliced onions and stir up to coat. Cover pan and cook over moderately low heat until translucent, about 15-20 minutes, stirring occasionally. Uncover pan, turn up heat to medium-high and add salt and sugar. Sugar, by caramelizing, helps onions to brown. Stirring frequently, cook for another 20-30 minutes until the onions are deep brown and jam-like. Meanwhile, heat broth to a simmer in a separate pan.
Lower heat to moderate and add flour to onions. Cook for about 2 minutes, stirring continuously, to brown the flour. Remove from heat and whisk in one cup of the hot broth. Add the rest of the broth, wine, bay leaf and sage, and bring to a simmer. Simmer for 30-40 minutes, seasoning to taste with salt and pepper.
Soupe à l'oignon gratinée (which really is the only way to eat it)
The soup!
1 baguette
olive oil
1 1/2 c. grated Gruyère/Emmentaler/Baby Swiss and Parmesan cheese, mixed
Cut bread into slices about 1 inch thick, paint lightly with olive oil and arrange in one layer on baking sheet. Place in middle of preheated 325-degree oven for 15-20 minutes until beginning to brown lightly; turn and brown lightly on other side for 15-20 minutes. These are called croûtes.
Ladle soup into heat-proof bowls and top with a couple of the croûtes and grated cheese. Broil until bubbly on top. Serve.
Warning: hot melted cheese is akin to culinary napalm -- if not careful, you could burn the hell out of the inside of your mouth and render your taste buds helpless for a short period of time. Eat wisely. It’s worth it.
Dining with one's friends and beloved family is certainly one of life's primal and most innocent delights, one that is both soul-satisfying and eternal.
~ Julia Child
I tried marijuana once. I did not inhale.
A Word from the English Major. On Meme Monday. Worlds Colliding!
3 Bòn Móts blathered by citizen janey at 5:22 PM
Ellery Queen, believe it or not. Oh, and John Jakes. Have the whole Bicentennial Series, the Civil War Series and assorted others.
Then there’s my Jackie Collins collection. Shut up.
2) What book do you own the most copies of?
The Bible. Have a half dozen versions. And the Complete Works of Shakespeare, coming in with five copies.
3) Did it bother you that both those questions ended with prepositions?
Yes. I involuntarily twitched.
5) What book have you read the most times in your life?
Aloud: Goodnight Moon; Hop on Pop; Go Dog Go
To myself: The Bible, Gone with the Wind, Auntie Mame. The Great Gatsby, Little Women, The World According to Garp, The Sun Also Rises
6) What was your favorite book when you were ten years old?
Little Women. I devoured that book. It has a special place in my heart.
7) What is the worst book you've read in the past year?
It wasn’t a Bad Book in any sense of the word – but I have to say Pillars of the Earth by Ken Follett. I tried – oh how I tried – to like it, to get into it, to dig it. But never did. I’m not even sure I made it all the way through. Still have it on the bookshelf for a revisit. Just in case.
8) What is the best book you've read in the past year?
Rachel Kushner’s Telex from Cuba. Fascinating and thought-provoking and really well-written. Plus there’s that Cuba thing – and y’all know how I feel about that place…
9) If you could force everyone you tagged to read one book, what would it be?
One Hundred Years of Solitude. No question. While I love Latin American fiction as a rule, this is a passion.
11) What book would you most like to see made into a movie?
The City of Falling Angels by John Berendt. Just to see Venice in all its splendor.
12) What book would you least like to see made into a movie?
One Hundred Years of Solitude. Trying to literally visually capture the magic of this masterpiece is a no-win situation for both the novel and the book, at least from my perspective.
13) What is the most lowbrow book you've read as an adult?
Please. Have we just met? J’adore the Jackie Collins oeuvre. Enough said.
14) What is the most difficult book you've ever read?
Anything by Thomas Pynchon. I just don’t get him. Despite having read him numerous times in undergrad/grad school. However, I understand he has a new book coming out soon that is more “accessible.” I shall try again with Mr. Pynchon.
15) Do you prefer the French or the Russians?
Russians. No good reason. I just do.
16) Roth or Updike?
Updike. The Rabbit series is on the nightstand ready to get into the rotation.
17) David Sedaris or Dave Eggers?
Sedaris.
18) Shakespeare, Milton, or Chaucer?
Shakespeare. Shakespeare. Shakespeare.
19) Austen or Eliot?
Eeek. While not a passionate, die-hard fan, I will go with Austen.
20) What is the biggest or most embarrassing gap in your reading?
Probably the aforementioned French/Russian novels. Have spent the majority of my time camped out with American/English/Latin American works. Should I branch out?
21) What is your favorite novel?
Truthfully – while I adore The Great Gatsby, The Sun Also Rises and One Hundred Years of Solitude, my favorite novel is Auntie Mame. So there you are.
22) Essay?
Jonathan Swift’s "A Modest Proposal"
23) Work of nonfiction?
Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil. All the President's Men. And the Bible.
24) Who is your favorite writer?
25) What is your desert island book?
The Norton Anthology of American Literature, featuring the more contemporary works. I'd rather hang with Steinbeck, et al than Twain. But that's just me.
26) What are you reading right now?
Re-reading Julie and Julia in anticipation of the movie; McCullough’s Truman; Praise Habit by David Crowder.
27) What fictional character are you secretly in love with?
Rhett Butler. Please. The man is sex on a Confederate stick.
28) Who deserves to win the next Nobel Prize for Literature?
Thomas Pynchon. See, I am giving him another chance!
29) Describe your weirdest dream involving a writer, book, or literary character.
I cannot think of one.
But I did have naughty dreams in grad school about my sexy alpha male much older professor and the sexy long-haired stereotypical teaching assistant who sat next to me in my Contemporary Latin American Fiction class and who I would drink many beers with after class as we talked about those pretentious things that English grad students talk about.
Does that count?
30) What is the most obscure Shakespeare play you've seen?
Two Gentlemen of Verona
31) Favorite Play?
Where do I begin? Lanford Wilson’s Burn This; Albee’s Who’s Afraid of Virginia Wolff?; Neil Simon’s Barefoot in the Park; The Taming of the Shrew. Oh – G.B. Shaw’s Pygmalion and Don Juan in Hell. And then there's Blood Wedding and The House of Bernarda Alba by Garcia Lorca. Or The Mystery of Irma Vep by Charles Ludlum (my guilty, campy pleasure.)
32) Favorite Poem?
33) Favorite short story?
34) Who is the most overrated writer alive today?
Maya Angelou. Shhhh…
