Woo hoo! A five Saturday month which means we get to sample a great musical comedy production number from the screen or the stage. "The Band Wagon" might be one of MGM's greatest musicals and this is the number that could be seen in all of their films.
A classic comparison because, despite over a century, this is still operating as a studio. It's just the content that has changed.
Back in 1918, this complex on La Brea Avenue in Hollywood was the film studio home of Charlie Chaplin.
In 2000, this was bought out by Jim Henson's Muppet company.
And you see that square tower here in its unchanged prominence.
This is history like this all over town.
Dinner last night: Salad.
First off, take 1 1/2 to 2 pounds of Yukon Gold potatoes and cut them into wedges. Douse them with salt, pepper, and EVO. Lay them out on a pan lined with parchment paper and put into a oven pre-heated at 425 degrees. You'll leave them in there for 25 minutes.
While the taters are crisping, take 4 to 8 bone-in chicken thighs (I used four). Pat them dry and then liberally season with salt, pepper, and oregano. Sip and Feast uses a skillet but I try to use my Dutch oven whenever possible. Coat with EVO and then heat it to a nice shimmer. Place the thighs in, skin down first, for seven to ten minutes. You are looking for a nice brown. Then flip them for another ten minutes. Remove them to a plate.
There's a lot of brown bits on the bottom which add flavor. Throw in a liberal amount of garlic cloves. I used ten. Then add a cup of white wine and a cup of chicken stock to deglaze the bottom. Lastly, toss in two tablespoons of lemon juice.
By now, the potatoes are done. Take them out of the oven. When the sauce has reduced, put the chicken and the potatoes back into the Dutch oven. Lower the heat of your oven to 375 degrees and put it all in uncovered for about 30 minutes.
Now I differ here with Jim. Frozen peas (a half bag) are next in line. But he cooks up the peas and some butter in a skillet and adds it to the concoction at the very end. I simply threw it all together (the peas and a tablespoon of butter) and let it cook a few minutes longer in the oven.
The garlic and lemon flavors are a wonderful scampi-like combo. Enjoy!
Dinner last night: Leftover pizza and salad.
My now monthly salute to Oliver the Beagle.
Dinner last night: Chicken Vesuvio.
If you're wondering about this picture, I will explain. You just have to wait a little bit.
As I personally begin one more season as a baseball fan, what better way to honor this than by devoting a few Sunday Memory Drawers to the sport? Bonding with friends and Dad over the wonders of the game. Recalling happy times in some stadium. Reveling in the microcosm of life that only baseball can provide.
Except today we're going to talk all about football.
Well, sort of.
Bonding with Dad?
Most definitely.
Oh, sure, my father and I had our shared baseball moments and I will chronicle them here over the next little while. At this very moment, I'm thinking about playing catch with him in the driveway. The typical Norman Rockwell portrait of father and son. With the baseball scooting away from me as my dad screamed..
"USE TWO HANDS!!!"
Yes. sir.
But, for some mystical reason, today I'm thinking about a joint project that provided one of the very rare times where Dad and I were joined lockstep with a single objective. In our little universe, it was Hailey's Comet. Translation: it didn't happen much. But this did. A united focus. A shared goal.
Collecting Coca Cola bottle caps.
Huh, you say?
I couldn't have been more eight or nine when I heard about this promotion dreamed up by the soda company. During the fall, they put out these grids for the local football teams, the New York Jets and the New York Giants. On each grid, there were spots for all 40 players or the complete roster of each team. At the same time, the now-retired Coke bottle caps had a picture of a Jet or Giant underneath. So, you'd glue the cap to the appropriate spot on the grid. If you managed to fill in a bottle cap for every player on both teams, you'd get a free football. For some bizarre reason, my father got behind this in a big way.
"We're going to get that football."
Okay. But, isn't this a lot of work? Wouldn't it be just as easy to go down to the sporting goods store and buy one?
As far as Dad was concerned, apparently not.
For the next two months, this was our mission. Working together to get the necessary bottle caps that would catch us that pigskin. We'd spend hours on the weekend sorting and glueing.
Okay, let me reel it in here. We weren't drinking all that soda. Back then, my father had two jobs. At night, he worked at the Connecticut die casting company he had been at since after World War II. But, for a spell, he worked mornings for his cousin's oil burner company. Delivering heating fuel to homes.
And lots and lots of bars and taverns all over the Bronx. All of them very willing to hand over to my dad their weekly cache of Coca Cola bottle caps. Which he brought home in shopping bags.
Basically, we needed just 80 bottle caps. But, to find the ones for the grid, we pretty much sifted through over two thousand of them. Our kitchen table was a disaster as we surveyed each and every cap.
"This is a Winston Hill. We already have ten of those."
"What did you do with Pete Gogolak? I can't find him."
"How come we can only find tackles and no half backs?"
It was nerve wracking, because Coke actually had a deadline on the submissions. As the clock ticked and the days passed, we kept sorting and glueing and glueing and sorting. Miraculously, there was just one bottle cap that we needed.
New York Giant running back Tucker Fredrickson. We were convinced his bottle cap didn't exist. The lone blank spot on the two grids stared at us for about a week. So close to the football. So far from the football.
Until my mother got into the act. One day, she came home with a paper bag full of bottle caps, which she had coerced out of the vending machine guy at her job. She was obviously trying to help. Or simply put us and her out of our collective misery.
Tucker Fredrickson was the first one we pulled out of the bag.
From my father's reaction, I couldn't tell whether he was ecstatic or depressed. Had he wanted to be the one to triumphantly pull Tucker Fredrickson out of his magic hat? Was he particularly frosted that my mother had delivered the goods? To this day, I don't know. But his half smile that day lasted with me for years.
With Tucker firmly attached to his designated grid spot, we headed up to the local Coca Cola bottler in White Plains. Gasoline expended, which also made me wonder why we hadn't simply walked five blocks to the sporting goods store. But, nevertheless, Dad proudly handed over the bottle cap grids. To the clerk who was mystified.
"How did you do this? Nobody else has."
I beamed. That's because nobody else has a father who delivers oil to about fifty saloons in the Bronx.
There was nothing special about the football. There was nothing to differentiate it from the football in the window down at the sporting goods store. But, this truly was our football. One that my father and I had gotten together. With a single focus. With determination. With pride. As one.
We went down to the driveway to play catch with it. As the first toss scooted away from me, I heard the usual refrain.
"USE TWO HANDS!!!!"
Dinner last night: Pepperoni pizza from Maria's.
A classic western with two classic stars. Released 60 years ago this month.
Dinner last night: Grilled sausage and pickled beets.
Sadly, my beloved LA haunt..the Arclight Hollywood...is still down for the count. But, business has gone back to usual for the most part with movie theaters. Even if the on-screen product remains a bit lackluster. You know the monthly drill, gang. I will peruse the movie pages of the newspaper and give you my knee-jerk gut reaction to what's playing.
But, as seen before, I'm just glad anything is playing at the Bronxville.
The Lost City: As I stated above, seen it and reviewed it here. Escapist fun that owes its very existence to "Romancing the Stone."
The Batman: Three hours long and that's a deterrent these days.
Viva Maestro: A documentary about conductor Gustavo Dudamel who I personally think is full of himself.
Coda: Reviewed here and yes, it deserved to be Best Picture.
Father Stu: Mark Wahlberg as a convict/priest. As if that's a new concept these days.
Everything Everywhere All At Once: That pretty covers it all.
Fantastic Beats - The Secrets of Dumbledore: Just when you thought you were done with all that Harry Potter nonsense.
Morbius: Sounds too much like morbid and that's not good.
Ambulance: I guess it's not about a Good Humor truck.
Sonic the Hedgehog 2: Clearly for those who saw Sonic the Hedgehog 1.
X: A horror movie about young people making porn in 1979. Which would have been rated...X.
Uncharted: If you can't get enough of Mark Wahlberg, he's in this, too.
Unbearable Weight of Massive Talent: A movie caper where Nicolas Cage stars and actually plays himself. Huh?
All The Old Knives: All about CIA double agents. As if there is such a thing...wink, wink.
The Northman: About some Vikings and that always bores me.
The Bad Guys: Some cartoon with criminals trying to turn into good citizens. Not available in NY, LA, or Chicago.
Memory: Liam Neeson stars in the movie he made last week.
Dinner last night: Salad.
I'm in. I clicked to find out that it had a release in about ten theaters nationwide. Oh, but you can rent it for seven bucks on Amazon Prime. For all of the above reasons, I thought it was worth the rental fee.
Now, through all this, I had no idea what this movie was about. I incorrectly assumed it was a comedy. Hardly. This is one serious film. All about saying goodbye to a parent who is dying.
Whew.
That said, this one is a tough one to watch and you have to be in the mood for such grim realities. It's a dysfunctional family drama featuring Dad on his last days, a difficult and borderline psychotic mother, an estranged son, and the daughter who finds herself in the role of dealing with all of the above.
Indeed, despite the subject matter, haven't we all been there? And do you necessarily want to revisit it?
I am guessing writer/director/producer Mayim lived through the very scenario depicted in her film. It screams "autobiographical." The emotions are very personal. The stark revelations of the plot are likely very close to her heart. I give her major props not only for putting this all on screen, but also getting the money to have it made at all.
That's my nice way of saying the film has some problems. It moves extremely slow. You find few reasons to like some of the characters. And like most current movies, the lighting which is meant to be stylish is awful.
But the acting from all is superb, especially from Hoffman, Bergen, and Mayim's Big Bang buddy Simon Helberg. And again I salute her for getting this all done. It will be interesting to see how her career behind the camera transforms when she runs out of her own life's events.
"As They Made Us" is not for everybody. And you certainly need to time your viewing because it is a downer. Yet, I was happy to come across it. And know that sometimes you can trust what you read on your Facebook page.
LEN'S RATING: Three stars.
Dinner last night: Salad.
Doesn't anybody ever want to see somebody smile again?
It won't be long from now when we discover that all this masking was a health deterrent. I truly don't believe it is good for your body...sucking in your own air for so long. And I offer as evidence my recent plane trip to NY from LA.
Okay, I flew a bunch of times last year. I didn't like wearing the mask but I made do. In fact, there was one flight where I got upgraded to business class and, because you are essentially always eating or drinking in that section, masks are pretty much down the whole trip.
But, back in coach, it's "Masks Up" for the duration.
Indeed, you pretty much have to have your mask on as soon as you enter your departing airport and you really can't unmask until you step out of your arriving airport.
Two weeks ago, I did just that on my trip from LAX to JFK. Except where normally the whole ordeal is about six hours, weather delays and gate issues in New York had me masked for over eight hours. That is a long time.
When I finally got to my NY apartment, I followed my usual routine. Unpack. Go to the super market for some food. Answer a few emails. I felt fine. This was nothing new. I am one who made this trip about ten times a year for almost 16 years. Never an ill effect.
I went to bed at my usual time of 11PM.
And did not wake up until 10AM the next morning. Someone like me who usually does well on just seven hours of sleep did not arise for 11 hours!
I got up. Had a little breakfast. And laid back down on my bed for a short nap.
That lasted until 3PM.
When I tell you this is unusual, I am not exaggerating one iota. I was completely wiped out like at no other time in my life. I was not really back to normal until two days later, rendering my first 24 hours in NY as useless.
Did I suddenly become a victim of jet lag? I doubt it. My only explanation is that...my mask limit is eight hours.
Sure. Let's keep this mask bit going a little while longer. For our own good. Yeah, right.
Dinner last night: The pre-game buffet at the Dodger Stadium Club.
Ah, two things I miss...Paul Lynde and those Dean Martin roasts.
After my recent revisit binge of "Picket Fences," I was on a David E. Kelley kick and decided to sample a show that I never watched before. And I am already on Season 2 of..."Ally McBeal."
First off, I have to share that Julia Child and her "French Chef" PBS series provided many happy memories of watching TV with my mom. This show was one of our favorites mainly because my mother thought that all the bloops and gaffs from this non-TV-trained personality were the result of Julia being tipsy.
As you learn now, that was hardly the case. Julia was Julia. Unpolished to be sure. But warm and inviting as she showed you how to make the most complex meals in...well...complex ways.
Right now, there is a HBO Max mini-series of eight episodes that revolve around Julia's efforts to get on TV. Sarah Lancashire plays the chef and is a lot more than simply an imitation of her. This performance displays a lot of heart and you become a fan even if you weren't originally.
This mini-series is played with comedic undertones and that makes the embedded reunion of "Frasier" co-stars David Hyde Pierce and Bebe Neuwirth as Julia's hubby and friend even more apropos.
Right now, five of the eight episodes are up, so enjoy. And then you can supplement your appreciation of Julia Child with this.
As a result, this documentary served almost as supplemental DVD-like extras to what I've been watching on HBO Max. And that's fine.
Please check out all of the above and then...here's a surprise...search for some of her real episodes on YouTube.
Nope, Mom, she was not drunk.
Dinner last night: Caesar salad.
