I just want to get some kicks

A wave of the fin to all of those guided by Our  (estimable) Girl in Chicago. Despite the referral, attacks on mothers and infants are just a small part of what this blog gets up to. I thought I would try my hand at filmblogging, just to see if it is as easy as litblogging, and I guess this is the whirlwind I am reaping. The whole babies at movies thing I intended only as an aside before considering the perversity of M&MSmith, which continues to boggle me. Reading the Denby review reminded me of how pervasive the attack on/celebration of high-end bourgeois living is--after they bust many, many caps in the ass of the Wolf range, and shatter the nice Country Floors tiles w/ point blank shotgun blasts, I forgot to mention they blow up the whole house when Brad boots a concussion grenade right under the oil tank. Because Brad and Angie still have an Ikeaesque big box to shoot up, they walk away, and seem pleased that they have managed to destroy this oppressive seven-figure Scarsdale colonial that was a symbol of the weary desperation of their cover lives as wealthy New York executives with lots of nice things. It is like Fight Club hooks up with The Ref, but with the climax boosted from Rock & Roll High School, where the kiddies celebrate as the edifice of their oppression is smashed into bits. See also video for "School's Out," if memory serves. That, and especially the inauguration of kitchen snuff, was what I was interested in, but  I guess when you get carried away and threaten to send infants to work in China, you get what you deserve. I am looking forward to M&MS:2, when Angie rolls over a limited-edition  chrome KitchenAid stand mixer with a Bradley Fighting Vehicle.
    Speaking of China, that's where Cod's dad's new hibachi is from. If I had a webcam, and sold 8x10s and thus had one of those 'wish lists,' the hibachi would be on there. His came from BBQguys.com, which is good to know, b/c the hibachi is as hard to find as a Starland Vocal Band fan these days. I am not sure why this simple and effective device has been superseded by brushed aluminum Hummer-sized multi-thousand grilling systems (too lazy to link, but Wms Sonoma usually has some) except that asshats drive the market for grills. Irregardless, as they say in the Dunkin heartland, I am all about doing some short ribs Seoul stizz tableside ASAP, and will report on results. Also, hard to beat the price, which works out to about 3 bottles of cheap Rioja.  Also on the wish list that does not exist is the Wusthoff tomato knife I found in the folks' knife rack. I was skeptical, but was urged, repeatedly, to try it by Mother of Cod, and it is a Cheese Dream* difference maker. You can cut tomatoes so that you can have that jolt of tomato, but not so thick that you have sog issues. Check it out.
*What Ma calls grilled cheese. Deal with it.

Comments

[Skeen]

My mother-in-law (and ergo husband, till I kicked it out of him) calls them "cheese dreams" also. In Ireland (habitat of mother-in-law) something is "grilled" when it's put in a broiler-type thing that everyone's oven there has. Thus, "grilled cheese" would be that thing you do when you're trying to cut down on butter and so you stick the bread open-face under the broiler with the cheese on top.
Acceptable, but not as good as a real, butter-saturated grilled cheese.
Now I'm curious about that term "cheese dream" -- is it some depression-era artifact?

[Skeen]

Oh my god!! It IS depression-era!! See:
http://www.hgtv.com/hgtv/ah_recipes_sandwiches/article/0,,HGTV_3193_1391876,00.html

Except that the woman who popularized the concoction during the 30s described it as toasting bread and cheese under a grill? I'm so confused now. I guess the butter/pan thing didn't enter the picture until the fatter years of the 1950s?