Please Pack Your Breasts and Leave

Wow. A Bravo reality show is actually getting rid of its robotic, flat-voiced hostess in favor of someone with actual television experience.

No, it's not Heidi Klum, who has actually gotten more comfortable killing the dreams of amateur fashion designers on the addictive Project Runway (it helps that she's, you know, one of the producers).

Instead, it's little Katie Lee Joel, Billy Joel's 12-I-mean-25-year-old host of the first season of Top Chef, a reality show from PR's producers about chefs battling to be...well, I guess the title is fairly Snakes On a Plane-esque in its self-explanation.

Maybe "robotic" is a tad harsh. Let's just go with "telegenically-challenged." But while Katie Lee apparently does have some background in food (Bravo never really explained what they meant when they described her as a "food writer" - I just assumed she knew how to write a grocery list), she couldn't, um, talk about food very comfortably. In fact, she couldn't do anything comfortably in front of the cameras, always dropping anchor-like duds of non-wisdom while judges Tom Colicchio and Gail Simmons could actually chew and think at the same time.

Instead, Bravo has made a ridiculously great decision in hiring Padma Lakshmi. A drop-dead gorgeous Indian woman (she makes Catherine Zeta-Jones look like butt) who has cooking and television experience (she hosted a much-missed show on the Food Network), Lakshi has been out of the public eye for quite some time. Oh, she also happens to be married to Salman Rushdie.

Top Chef is still seriously flawed. Unlike PR, where all you have to do is look at the final designs to judge them, on TC you can only look at the food the contestants prepare, and while presentation counts, you still have no idea how good the food actually is until the judges tell you. And the prizes aren't all that thrilling. I think they get a stove and, like, a magazine article or something.

But with Padma to guide us with her seductively intellectual presence (who will hopefully have a better signature send-off then "pack your knives and leave"), TC's second season could be approaching PR's crack-like addiction.

Also check out: Hooray for Jay.
And: Obsessing Over Food I Never Eat, with Giada de Laurentiis.

Brother, Can You Spare a Comment?

For this week's Roundtable, Prego at Rustbelt Rambling is having a crisis of conscience over panhandlers. There's always the "How do you know it's not Jesus?" theory that really rubs in the guilt. But, even worse, what if you actually know one of them? What if one of your former friends is now, years later, stopping you on the street for a couple of bucks?

Any advice would be appreciated, as I pass someone with a "Need a bus ticket" or "God will love you if you help me" signs every day in good ol' Chi-town. Stop on by and help out Prego, too, while you're at it. Instead of donating change, how about a round of drinks for the Roundtable?

Telescopic Boogaloo

I have been seriously deprived of good new music this year. Not a lot has really grabbed a hold of me and demanded "Buy me now!! You must have me!!" So I've taken some chances, one being Nelly Furtado's third CD, which is fine but doesn't measure up to her first two CD's. Same with Black Rebel Motorcycle Club's third CD. (Maybe there should be a "junior joke" in addition to "sophomore slump"? Discuss.) And then, of course, there's Gnarls Barkley, who are basically unavoidable at this point.

But then I saw the video for a song called "Black Horse & the Cherry Tree" on VH1 (I know, I can't believe they actually played a music video, either) with a black-maned, cherry-lipped songstress rocking out on her guitar.

I immediately thought, "Is this 1997? Is Lilith Fair coming back?" I mean, the last time VH1 introduced us to a solo female artist was Anna Nalick standing around a fake apartment for her catchy, breathy "Breathe (2 A.M.)" So to see a female rock-folk singer playing her own guitar (something lacking from the singers VH1 and MTV usually highlight) just seemed so...retro. I was slightly skeptical, but this bluesy ditty was just too toe-tapping, bass-thumping-in-your-pelvis rocking to ignore. Besides, the singer looked like she'd kick my ass if I did.

A few days later, sitting in my office, a song came on the radio with a hook that would make even the butchest lumberjack want to skip in the rain. I figured the song was titled "Suddenly I See" as that phrase is repeated throughout the chorus, but I didn't catch who the artist was.

Later that week, the same thing: catchy song on the radio, raspy lilt to the female vocalist, this time a thoughtful ballad that I later learned was titled "Other Side of the World."

It wasn't until a week after all of this that I learned they were all by a singer-songwriter named KT Tunstall. Then it wasn't until even later that I learned my sister had her CD, Eye to the Telescope, and loved it. And, oh yeah, my brother, too. And, according to Billboard, about half a million other people as well (the CD was certified gold). I'm obviously behind the times.

But I did finally pick up Eye to the Telescope and understand why KT is catching on. The Scottish musician writes songs that are reflective, melodic, aggressive and melancholy, sometimes all in one song. More impressive, however, is how consistent she is. My cynical expectations for CD's these days is that they are bound to include some filler. Not KT. I could pick any song and enjoy it just as much as any of her others.

There's a reason why "Black Horse & the Cherry Tree" was such a break-out hit in multiple countries while "Suddenly I See" was included in The Devil Wears Prada and both are distinctively KT's. It's not pandering to the masses by trying to include the token rock joint next to the token adult-contemporary feel-good ditty. According to her website, Tunstall's musical influences include David Bowie, Billie Fitzgerald, James Brown, Lou Reed, Johnny Cash and PJ Harvey. She's a self-taught guitarist and singer who's filling a void. Melissa Etheridge's crazy-awesome performance at the 2002 Grammys was a highlight in what has become an adult-contemporary career. Courtney Love has finally high-dived into the deep end of the crazy pool. Sarah McLachlan, Jewel, Fiona Apple and even Tori Amos all seem to have already peaked. While KT may look like Meredith Brooks, I'm confident she's more than a one-hit wonder (three songs on the radio already prove that).

Yes, it may not be fair to lump all these female musicians together, but guess what? That's what happens to any artist. There just quite frankly aren't that many mainstream female rockers right now. After having seen Tunstall's live act on HBO On Demand where she created her own multi-layered band out of just her voice, guitar and recording device at her feet, I'm certain she's the real deal.

And I'm music deprived no longer.

The Biggest Illusion in The Illusionist

Edward Norton, star of the underwhelming The Illusionist, is one of the best actors of his generation and usually his presence alone guarantees a solid, and often spectacular, film. Movies such as Primal Fear and Rounders were fine but potentially forgettable elevated by his tight, sometimes scary, sometimes charming performances. His off-screen conflicts with collaborators over scripts might allude to a challenging, type-A personality, but on screen Norton is almost always a guaranteed winner. Cast him as a Eisenheim, a magician of unbelievable power, opposite Paul Giamatti as the Chief Inspector trying to take him down in turn-of-the-century Vienna, and how can you lose?

Fifteen years after their childhood romance, working-class Eisenheim and Princess Sophie (Jessica Biel) are reunited when he brings his magic show to Vienna, incurring the wrath of Sophie's intended, the jealous Court Prince (Rufus Sewell, having slimy fun despite a laughable moustache that's about to fall off any second). The Prince employs his right-hand man, Uhl (Giamatti), to expose and take down Eisenheim despite his increasing popularity, and a pissing contest emerges between the illusionist and the prince, with each having their own advantages (magic and intelligence vs. power and resources).

Not only were the sporadic accents frustrating (including Norton's), but apparently the filmmakers thought the character of Eisenheim didn't need anything else other than Edward Norton performing really cool magic tricks/illusions/whatever to be interesting. Not to mention that he, the title character around which this is all is supposed to be revolving, disappears for quite some time in the third act. Biel doesn't have much to do, so her performance ends up a stunning triumph of dinner-plate cheekbones and studied posture. Giamatti fares a little better, balancing his child-like awe of Eisenheim while pursuing his duties to bring him down, but even he can't overcome an awful ending with loopholes that even the most amateur filmgoer could drive a horse and carriage through.

The blurry-edged, sepia-tinted cinematography is gorgeous. The score by Philip Glass, while derivative of his work in The Hours and others, is tensely beautiful when it isn't distracting and purposeless (which is more than half the time). But slow pacing and lack of character development give The Illusionist its most impressive magic trick: somehow an Edward Norton movie is boring.

When Dust Bunnies Attack

You know how you think your place is relatively clean and then you start packing things up to move and you realize you've been secretly growing an entire universe made out of dust under your bed? Yeah, that's what I'm doing. Packing and cleaning to move. Which is why I've been kind of MIA lately. That and a dead internet connection, which doesn't help.

But, I will try to be posting soon, as I've lately seen Little Miss Sunshine, The Descent and Idlewild, plus I have to spread the love of KT Tunstall, whose CD Eye to the Telescope is on permanent rotation at home.

In the meantime, head over to Sereena's Metaphor Voodoo for this week's roundtable discussing the perfect song. So pitch in your two cents, unless your two cents consist of the words "Milli Vanilli," in which case you have no sense at all (get it? Cents and sense? Ha...ha. Oh my...the dust. It's the dust talking, I swear...)

Roundtable: Don't Piss Off the Advice Columnists

Dan Savage is mad as hell. And he's not going to give advice anymore. At least, not to straight people. Or straight people with marriage on their radar.

Ever since the New York Supreme Court denied gay couples the right to marry because straight people need it more (that sounds horribly reductive, but that really is the gist of their argument), Dan has been firing on all cylinders. First, there was his op-ed piece in the New York Times (sorry, you might have to pay to read it, but you can read an excerpt here) where he explained that the courts' ridiculous arguments against same-sex marriage (which I explained and picked apart here) are getting weaker, which is a good sign that they may disintegrate altogether in the near future.

But now his passion and frustration are influencing his day job as a nationally syndicated sex advice columnist. Not that he's been particularly hesitant to include his political views in his column, but now he's giving the total brush-off to those considering marriage or already married.

To a woman who wrote in about her wonderful, studly, well-endowed boyfriend who doesn't want her to use her beloved sex toys once they get married, Dan wrote:

"I just can't be bothered today, BAB [Blushing Anonymous Bride]. You see, state supreme courts in New York and Washington handed down blatantly bigoted rulings against gay marriage in July and I'm kind of pissed at the fact that you get to marry your big-dicked boyfriend but I can't marry mine."

Ouch. And then, to a married man who was given a "free pass" by his wife to indulge his kinks and wants suggestions on how to set up a gay one-night stand, Dan offered this:

"No ideas, MAK [Middle-Aged Kinkster]. No advice, no guidance, no pointers. You know why I got nothin' for you, MAK? Because if we gay guys aren't allowed to be married—to each other—then you married straight guys aren't allowed to be gay. Not even once, not even if you're just going to put it in a little, not even with the wife's permission."

And finally, the same week an 18-year-old girl wrote about being impregnated by her 18-year-old boyfriend, who not only doesn't want to get married (!), he doesn't even want to have sex with her anymore (!!) - which is unsurprising to anyone over the age of 18 - even though he still says he loves her (!!!).

Dan's response?

"Doesn't your boyfriend read the papers, PAD [Pregnant and Deprived]? According to the State of New York's highest court, the institution of marriage exists expressly to entice the likes of him—that is, irresponsible straight boys—into marrying the likes of you—that is, irresponsible straight girls. Since heterosexual relationships are 'often casual or temporary,' and since 'unstable relationships between people of the opposite sex present a greater danger that children will be born into or grow up in unstable homes,' the court found that the state can deny same-sex couples—with kids, without kids, whatever—the right to marry. Marriage is set aside exclusively for folks like you!

And you mean to tell me that your boyfriend doesn't want to marry you? What a fucking ingrate! I'm not sure what you can do about it, PAD, but perhaps those justices in New York can help you out. Maybe one of the justices can hold the shotgun while another officiates?"

Now, I loves me some advice columnists. I read Dear Prudence at Slate, Since You Asked over at Salon and try to keep up with the Chicago Tribune's not one but two daily columnists. Obviously their personal views are going to influence their responses, whether they're consciously aware of it or not (although they really should be self-aware enough to know it).

And I think Dan had a point. I mean, how much do help do straight people need with marriage? Aren't there like three dozen wedding/relationship magazines, four hundred books, the previous generation's hard-earned wisdom to turn to and, you know, the state and federal governments to help out?

But seriously, did he go too far? With one of the most widely-read columns in the country, plus editing Seattle's alternative The Stranger and the author of books such as The Kid and The Commitment, Dan is very influential to both straights and gays. This week he admits to getting flack from readers who want him to do his job - give advice. So he's back helping out with kinky fetishes and STD prevention. He made his point but now he's back doing what he does best.

What would happen if all the advice columnists turned on their readers? Or went on strike? Where would all the confused, directionless advice seekers turn to? How would we best know how to sign a "thank you" letter? Who would set boundaries for how to properly walk your dog? Who would start a movement to spread santorum without an advice columnist to help us? There'd be riots on the streets, I tell you. Sheer chaos.

Across the Universe

Stephen wants to know where you've been, what you did there, and if you would go back. So, considering we can't really fly anywhere right now without a lot of complications, we might as well revel in where we have travelled why we wait for things to clear up.

So grab a martini and a mini-packet of peanuts and head on over to Serenade in Green...

Like an After-School Special, With Liquor

Instead of describing what happens when I cook every single recipe in Giada de Laurentiis' Everyday Italian, I figured I would break it down into larger sections and inform you of some of the lessons I've learned along the way.

As a quick update, since I last blogged about my cooking experiences, I've made White Bean Dip with Baked Pita Chips, Sun-Dried Tomato and Chickpea Dip, Italian Egg Sandwiches, Nutella Sandwiches, Roasted Aspargus Wrapped in Prosciutto, Sweet Red Pepper Crostini, Simple Bolognese Sauce, Turkey Meatballs in Tomato Sauce, Brown Butter Sauce over ravioli, Seared Rib-Eye Steak with Arugula-Roasted Pepper Salad, Pork Milanese, Milanese Sandwiches, Chicken Spezzatino, Peas and Prosciutto, Broccoli and Green Beans, Smashed Parmesan Potatoes, Marinated Strawberries over Pound Cake, Affogato, Panna Cotta with Honey and Toasted Pound Cake with Mascarpone and Amaretto.

So far, that brings my total to 47 out 125 recipes. Not even halfway yet. Yeah. I know. But anyway, here's some things I've learned along the way so far:

1) Nutella is crack in a jar. Or an orgasm in a jar. Or sex in a jar. Whichever classy metaphor you prefer, Nutella should be its own food group. I don't care if you don't like chocolate (although if you don't, you're not really human, but I'm not here to judge) or hazelnuts. This gooey Italian treat is SO good smeared or drizzled over fruit, ice cream, waffles or just plain toast (with butter or peanut butter, too? Okay, then, if you insist) that you shouldn't go another day without it. Right out of the jar or nuked in the microwave to make it easier to spread, Nutella is so addictive you could pour it over a shoe and you'd swear Pumas were the tastiest sneakers ever.

But it's not just Nutella. Thanks to Giada, I now can't imagine my cabinets without amaretto (an almond liqueur that's great brushed over pound cake, mixed into jam, poured over ice cream, or just on the rocks), instant espresso (to be added to brownies or panna cotta or mixed with hot water and poured over ice cream to make Affogato) or capers (salty little green berries that add a lot of flavor to salads and pasta). My kitchen and my grocery store are now a lot more interesting.

2) I like peas! Okay, this may be the least significant personal discovery one could ever make. It's basically on par with "I like reading letters that form words!" or "My feet help me move!" But, the point is, I'm not only stocking my pantry with interesting new items, I'm extending my palate to foods and flavors I had previously avoided. Peas aren't bitter and mushy as I believed growing up, they're bright and firm (it helps if you add prosciutto and garlic, like Giada).

Also, while I still think spiciness can overshadow actual flavors in a dish, I now appreciate a little heat in my pasta sauces, vegetables and meats. So not only do I own a jar of red pepper flakes, I actually use them. It's good to get out of your comfort zones in many ways, and what you cook at home is one way to do that. (Although I still haven't made Eggplant Rollatini yet. Eggplant: ew.)

3) Cheese and potatoes are overrated. No, not really. Cheese and potatoes, are, in fact, pretty awesome, especially together. But sometimes the obvious winners don't live up to expectations and uninspiring recipes can yield surprise hits.

Smashed Parmesan Potatoes are just quartered red-skinned potatoes boiled, drained and then literally smashed with a fork while adding Parmesan cheese and olive oil. Cheesy potatoes - how could I lose? Well, maybe I didn't season them enough (Giada doesn't specify the salt and pepper amounts, which is strange because she usually does), but this assumed slam-dunk was bland and boring, even with freshly grated Parmesan and good quality oil.

Conversely, Toasted Pound Cake with Mascarpone and Amaretto, a recipe where you sandwich mascarpone cream between slices of toasted pound cake and then smear it with apricot preserves mixed with amaretto, was one of my favorites so far. When I looked at the recipe, it seemed fine but nothing special. Pound cake (eh) with some mascarpone (always good) with some jelly (eh) and liqueur (yum) and topped with sliced almonds (eh). That's 3 out of 5 "eh"'s...not a good sign. But when you put it together, the heat from the toasted cake slices gently melts the cream and the jelly mixture, which in turn ooze into each other and become a creamy, boozy, gooey mess (the Foodtv.com photo here doesn't do it justice). I was in heaven.

So I have 78 recipes to go before March. That doesn't sound too bad. And who knows? Maybe by the end of this whole thing I'll like eggplant, mushrooms (which I go back and forth on) and white wine, all of which appear more than once in Giada's book and all of which I'm not particularly keen on. We can save those for another lesson...

Butter: The 5th Food Group

Sereena X at Metaphor Voodoo doesn't approve of the government's new food pyramids. They try to customize it for each individual by their age, gender and exercise routines, so there's no one official pyramid anymore. While I can get behind the concept, when I entered my information, I think the website told me to eat 5 servings of twigs and Dr. Pepper every day, so I'm not sure how accurate it is.

So Sereena X is asking us to suggest what foods are left out of the pyramid altogether. So far, we've got chocolate, baked potatoes, Tostino's pizza rolls, prosciutto (my choice!), sushi, habanero hot sauce, and Scotch. What else are we missing?

Grab a martini (ah, there we go, that's the food group we're missing: cocktails) and head over to Metaphor Voodoo to add your own ideas.

Time to Hire a Personal Airbrusher

Jessica Herman, a writer at CenterStageChicago.com, interviewed me last week for her ongoing gig profiling local bloggers. Not only did she find out about the dirt underneath my bed, my love of brunches (do you think Angel Food Bakery will give me a free homemade Twinkie for mentioning them?) and my love of Project Runway, she was able to do something I've been avoiding for ten months...

She posted a picture of me. And a semi-decent one at that.

So you might as well take a look around CenterStageChicago while you're there, and check out Jessica's interviews with other bloggers, especially the uncommonly good Megan Stielstra, who introduced me to the concept of non-water-based ice. Who knew?