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A cookbook would have to be pretty special for me to spend the better part of a Saturday reading recipes for Spicy Pulled Pork, Rib-Eye Steak with Whiskey Cream Sauce, and Comfort Meatballs. That's because I'm a devoted vegetarian happily counting down to my 20-year anniversary with a meat-free plate. But I also have a li'l bit of the cattle ranch in my blood, so I was immediately taken with Ree Drummond's The Pioneer Woman Cooks: Recipes From an Accidental Country Girl.
It's part cookbook, part memoir, part photo-diary of her life on an Oklahoma cattle ranch. Each recipe features step-by-step instructions and gorgeous accompanying photos, shot in the natural light of Ree's kitchen. The photos of wheat-fed (YES!) cows, ranch landscapes, and mud-splattered cowboys (swoon!) set the backdrop for recipes that will probably tell you to "cut the bar of cream cheese in half and add both halves to the skillet" or "scrape out the skillet to get every last drop." Ree's bubbly writing adds to the fun: "All I am saying: give cheese grits a chance." Done! Because really, every vegetarian knows that the trick to being a good dinner guest is to politely pass along the platter of Chicken Spaghetti and double up on Creamy Rosemary Potatoes, Macaroni and Cheese (my own personal brand of heroin), or Beans with Skillet Cornbread. Or all three: triple carb delight!
Everything about this book makes me long for an elk ivory engagement ring. And if you know what I'm talking about, you know what I'm talking about. Swoon (again)! Speaking of swooning, Monthly Edward will return soon. Really!
This snapshot of my coffee table gives you a pretty good idea of how I weathered the recent snowstorms that brought the East Coast to a grinding, sliding, salt-encrusted halt. My ever-present water bottle is one of the few plastic items that I still have, and once it goes I'll be down to strictly stainless steel and polycarbonate water bottles. My ever-present to do list is also on display. As is the remote control triad. The DVD remote control came in handy when I watched Dear Zachary, one of the very best and most shocking documentaries I have ever seen. I have thought about it so much since viewing it, but I don't want to give too much away so I will only recommend that everyone watch Dear Zachary with a box of tissues, a pen, and a stamped envelope nearby. Reasons for the latter items will be evident after viewing some of the disc's special features.
The books on the coffee table are all arranged according to reading priority, a little phrase that I cooked up to explain the, um, priority of my reading material. Flash Burnout, Soul Enchilada, and We Are the Weather Makers are all review books with a deadline. Ditto Because I Am Furniture by Thalia Chaltas, a young adult novel in verse that I just loved. And hey, is that Kristen Stewart on the cover of Vanity Fair? Why yes, it's the 2010 Hollywood issue featuring ten whiter-shade-of-pale actresses (it's a fold-out cover) and spotlighting Kristen's bedhead. Vanity Fair gets a thumbs down on both counts. These offenses are glaring and inexcusable. I'm sure Kristen isn't responsible for her own styling in this instance, but – to paraphrase my *Pineapple Express reference* BFFF Debi D. – Hey Kristen Stewart! You are dating the hottest guy on the planet! Run a comb through it and represent!
So I made good use of my third consecutive Snow Day yesterday, and saw The Wolfman on opening day. I really was prepared to love everything about The Wolfman, but here's the sad truth: if you like long shots of Benicio Del Toro traipsing around the misty moors in a top hat and fur-lined cloak (and I do), then there is something for you in this movie. However, when moors-traipsing is the best thing about a movie, there is a problem afoot. The fact that no two characters have even remotely similar accents reinforced my impression that I would soon be wanting my $8.50 back. I think Anthony Hopkins knows it, too, because he raced through his lines with zero inflection / commitment to character, and the subliminal message seems to be this: "Rent was due, get off my back."
And when is someone going to realize that when the monster lurks just outside our range of vision (or the gypsy camp, whatever) the monster is actually frightening. When the monster looks like Anthony Hopkins in a werewolf costume: not frightening. Not frightening!
My primary gripe re: The Wolfman concerns a missed opportunity for a Hugo Weaving in-joke. It is pretty awesome when Agent Smith (Weaving's character in The Matrix) intones, "Humans are a disease." I kept waiting for someone involved with The Wolfman to capitalize on the fact that, HEY, Hugo Weaving's on the set! It would be so fantastic if at some point his detective character casually mentions that "Werewolves are a disease!" You know, casually but with an exclamation point.
It is also curious that every character saves up all of their nighttime errands and pub-goings for the full moon. They collectively stay huddled up indoors during the safe times, and then head out en masse once they hear some howling on the moors. Oh, those moors again! And I'm not even going to get into Emily Blunt's character except to say: How did "Lawrence Talbot" (come on, I know it's you, Benicio!) know where your antiques store was located? Hmmm?
It's part cookbook, part memoir, part photo-diary of her life on an Oklahoma cattle ranch. Each recipe features step-by-step instructions and gorgeous accompanying photos, shot in the natural light of Ree's kitchen. The photos of wheat-fed (YES!) cows, ranch landscapes, and mud-splattered cowboys (swoon!) set the backdrop for recipes that will probably tell you to "cut the bar of cream cheese in half and add both halves to the skillet" or "scrape out the skillet to get every last drop." Ree's bubbly writing adds to the fun: "All I am saying: give cheese grits a chance." Done! Because really, every vegetarian knows that the trick to being a good dinner guest is to politely pass along the platter of Chicken Spaghetti and double up on Creamy Rosemary Potatoes, Macaroni and Cheese (my own personal brand of heroin), or Beans with Skillet Cornbread. Or all three: triple carb delight!
