An idea so crazy it just might work?

Here is the idea: I drink less. But wait, let me elaborate...

So I drink pretty regularly. This is not a news flash. It's just true. I like booze, especially wine. 

Early last year my love of wine induced me to buy Leith a position in a beginner's wine appreciation course, and to go along with him myself (super generous of me, huh). I found the course incredibly stimulating, and not just because I was drinking six wines a night, although that was an obvious perk. I found I not only liked wine, but was interested in it too, and the more I was understood it, the better it tasted. Older wine is gooder wine and so on. Partly I think the intrigue I have developed is due to the fact that wine, and particularly the range of factors that deliver the attributes of a given wine, is complex. So knowing why a certain wine tastes the way it does feels a bit like solving a puzzle. Only more delicious. Yes, I am basically one of those wankers from Sideways. Sorry folks.


So anyway, wouldn't you just know it, this course gave me a taste for a lot of relatively expensive wines. I'm not talking Grange Hermitage or anything. But $30 bottles, and including styles that are only ever imported. I can get more pleasure from 'browsing' in a decent wine cellar (at this point I would like to give a shoutout to Rathdowne Cellars, which is bloody brilliant) than I do in a shoe store. Just this afternoon I impulse bought a Petit Chablis with no intention of drinking it today or at any anticipated occassion, simply because it was good value and I like Chablis. I buy wine. As I bought it, I considered what else I might have bought if I'd splurged that money on some other thing, and the wine seemed like a pretty sound purchase.


And yet at the same time as this, I still participate in my typical weekly shindigs involving events (dinners, bands, theatre, comedy, birthdays, movies etc etc) most nights of the week, when I'm not working like a demon. This week was just such a routine, with me having slightly more festive (read: late (read: midnight *gasp*)) nights out than usual, and having them daily. And drinking at all of them. Not guzzling it down then walking into a lamp-post drinking. Just festive, social drinking with dinner and maybe one or two after, and then failing to get up for a run AGAIN the following morning and devouring cheesymite scrolls at my desk the next day a little more than I should.


And so, by Saturday morning, following yet another night that didn't go later than midnight but still involved beer and wine and tequila and beer, I felt a little crappy. Not blistering hangover crappy. More a feeling that all my internal organs were a bit grey and shrivelled, and the spot on my back where I imagine my liver to be was actually a bit tender. A bit gross you say? Agreed.

So this weekend I had one of those bleary-eyed couple of days where I didn't do much at all. I didn't sleep in, but I did read the papers whilst in bed, I drank tea, read books, watched movies. Went for a long walk, cooked quite a bit of food, drank craploads of water and exercised rather vigorously both days. Not out of piousness, just because it was genuinely what I felt like doing. And, I had my idea.


Now before I tell you what it is, let me just say that I'm not signing up to it right now or anything. I'm not a convert. I'm just twirling it around in my brain, letting the 'light' (ie sluggish mental reflection) catch it from various angles, seeing how it looks. Right now it doesn't look stupid, but then I've been sober for two days.


Ok. So. I'm thinking that I should conserve the value of my overall investment in alcohol, let's say on a weekly basis, BUT convert quantity for quality. So no drinking pots from unclean taps in shitty pubs. No drinking the house red (unless I'm in a genuinely decent bar). And in fact, to help with all this, limited weekday drinking in general (I'd settle for 3 AFDs a week). And the other times, crack open a really nice Cotes du Rhone with dinner. Just because. Buy aged reisling and drink it in the sun on Sunday afternoon whilst reading my book. On my own if necessary. And so on. 


At the moment, after a dry weekend, and still feeling more run down than I should, I think it sounds alright. I plan to road test it this weekend, and will report back on the state of my wallet, my sanity and my liver in due course.

Rating the films of Will Ferrell

On Saturday night Mel and I had a Will Ferrell movie night slash sleepover. Leith joined us for movies number 2 and 3, and Marcus rocked up after work for the second half of proceedings too. 

Mel and I were both hella excited. While it's awesome that we have a spare room and so Mel was able to actually stay on a mattress in a room to herself, a part of me wished she and I were lying on the living room floor in sleeping bags like sleepovers of yore. We would eat sherberty lollies and cake-decorating sugar flowers stolen from the cupboard, in order to stay up all night giggling and doing arithmetic games to determine who we would one day marry. 

We watched Old School, Blades of Glory and Talladega Nights. We were going to watch Anchorman but we all got too sleepy. Leith really wanted to see Stranger Than Fiction, but we agreed that it was too different a kind of movie (though also awesome) to fit within the marathon we'd planned.  I also have a hankering to see Step Brothers, and it remains high on the list.

Prior to Saturday I would have ranked these movies thus (favourite to least favourite):

Anchorman
Talladega Nights
Blades of Glory
Old School

After Saturday my rankings have shifted somewhat, to this:

Anchorman
Blades of Glory
Talladega Nights
Old School

Anchorman is the undisputed Gold Standard. Leith and Marcus both felt that Old School is one of the best of the bunch, and I have to agree that it remains hilarious over repeated viewings. However, I feel it falls down compared to Anchorman for two reasons. 

Reason one is that Old School has no strong, or even particularly interesting female protagonist. Christina Applegate in Anchorman provides some of the biggest laughs, and I enjoyed her character's powerlust and exquisite breasts enormously. Reason two is that while Anchorman sports an impressive ensemble cast who ensure that every line is a doozy, Old School is really carried, in my opinion, by Ferrell. Vince Vaughan plays Vince Vaughan extremely well, and Luke Wilson does his adorable self proud as well, but it's Ferrell who is non-stop hilarious from start to finish.

Talladega Nights really slipped in my opinion. I hadn't seen it in years, and while the moments of sheer ridiculous were still there (cougar in the car, the endless shake and bake, the obligitary Ferrell nudie streaking scene) I felt that the shape of the movie wasn't as good as it could have been. Specifically, the first 20 to 30 minutes of exposition feels drawn out and too long. Additionally, the initially very funny 'poke fun at rednecks' theme actually waned for me on this viewing. I'm not sure, but I suspect that greater exposure to what my mother might refer to as The Great Unwashed made me recoil more and laugh less at these characters. Also telling is that the best five minutes of Talladega Nights is the closing credits where Ferrell and John C. Reilly are simply riffing to camera. It's tea-comes-out-of-your-nose funny.


On the other hand, Blades of Glory improved in my estimation on this viewing. Originally I'd found it very funny but had felt that Jon Heder's character wasn't strong enough against Ferrell. I also found the film a bit (I can't believe I'm writing this) two-dimensional. However, in the wake of the recent Winter Olympics and some of the delightful skating personalities it exposed us to, I found it utterly enthralling and silly and ten kinds of wonderful. So I moved it up the charts.


Before my chart can really be completed, I feel I have to see Step Brothers, and this is a viewing burden I am most happy to bear.


UPDATE:

So I watched Step Brothers. It was pretty bad. It goes to the bottom of the list.

10 step recipe for a pleasant Thursday night

Work has been destroying me lately. Mostly targeting my sanity. A range of circumstances, unforeseen and somewhat distressing, have resulted in an inordinately large pile of highly sensitive work, with ridiculous deadlines, landing in my lap. And I've been going like the clappers, to borrow the extremely unfortunate phrase. People who I've actually spent time with lately (which isn't many) deserve many props, not least gentleman caller (soon I will have to call him gentleman roommate - eeek) who has been stoic, pragmatic, and a reliable provider of nourishing meals through all this.

So I'm having a February that I wouldn't wish to repeat, that involves 8-12 hour days 7 days a week, minding a cat that chooses to defecate in the living room more often than not, and ridiculous and zany (though not fun) mood swings of a type that could well be termed 'histrionic'.

However, tonight I managed to have rather a pleasant night, in the midst of all this. Here's how I did it:


Step 1: Work late, but not too late. 


I worked until 7:30, which is late enough to feel that I've achieved a large amount (especially given my 7am start) but still early enough to be able to salvage my evening.


Step 2: Have delicious leftovers ready and waiting for dinner.


My leftovers were purple and black eggplants that I'd sauteed with shallots and bell peppers, then stirred through with sliced Adelaide and Black Russian tomatoes, sprinkled with sumac and topped with a tahini/yoghurt/lemon juice/garlic dressing. Mixed with parsely and pearl couscous. NOM, I TELL YOU.


Step 3: Acquire additional comforting treats on the walk home.


Treats this evening constituted The Best Chips In The World (you may also know them as Red Rock Deli Potato Chips with Sea Salt) and a Bounty Bar. Hey, I'm a simple girl. All this is very important, as it means that you can leave work, and indeed stay late at work, safe in the knowledge that pleasantness awaits.


Step 4: I can give you more Meet entertainment needs


I signed up at the Blockbuster Videos that is one block from the office and half a block from the house, so that I could rent a movie without having to ride my bike the several small blocks to the Video Ezy on St Georges Rd. I know, I know. But that's just how it was today.


The lady made me fill in several forms, and gave me a hard time about not having a bill with proof of residence on it. And in my head I was all "hehe, jokes on you lady I'm only house sitting and I'll be GONE in a few weeks anyway!" but in reality feigned humility and pretended I still lived at Dudley St and several minutes later came away with Julie & Julia. This was something of a victory, as whilst in the office I'd been pondering the need for some pure feel-good escapism and the best I'd come up with was Mamma Mia. I know, I know. And so, still keeping with Meryl, I feel I really triumphed at the Blockbuster this evening. Julie & Julia was something I'd had every intention of seeing at the cinema. But as with so many movies, I had completely failed to get there. Also, if you don't know me/are a dimwit, I am mildly food obsessed, which is to say, I'm happy to think, talk, read, hear about food anywhere anytime. Also to eat. This is very important.


Step 5: Get home to a piss and shit free house


The madly defecating cat seems to calm down her frenzied excretions in direct correlation to time I spend at home. I was here last night and this morning, and thus, by miracle and demented cat logic, there was no shit this evening. Hallelujah.


Step 6: Talk to my family


Yes, this makes me one of those people that other people who don't get along with their families think is a schmuck. But I haven't had a proper conversation with my Mum or my Dad (divorced) in weeks. And there have been some broader family-related things going on. And it was very grounding to speak to both of them. And to be able to blurt out how manic I've been feeling, to a non-judgemental audience (Christ, just writing that makes me realise how lucky I am with my hardly-perfect-but-extremely-otherwise-functional parents).


Step 7: Crack a bottle of wine


I had a 2008 Innocent Bystander Pinot Gris in the fridge, and it complemented my dinner perfectly.

Step 8: Watch entire movie

I curled up, cat nuzzling my knee, and ate my way through the chips, more wine, and then the bounty, watching Julie & Julia.  And it was thoroughly delightful. It featured relatable women: smart, funny, with unutterably amazing partners, but who were perhaps a little lost. Oh yes, and who were food obsessed. I realise that every woman aged 30 who has seen this film has probably also thought this, but c'mon you guys, this was shouting out to me.


Obviously* I had a little cry during parts of the movie, and that was nice too.


Step 9:  Write on blog


It has been ages since I've had any dedicated brain capacity for anything that isn't work related. And as it's most likely boring and definitely completely inappropriate to write about work on this blog, I haven't written at all. It's good to write.


Step 10: Go to bed


This is the step I'm most looking forward to! Little poo-bum cat will come and curl up in the crook of my knee, the breeze from the open window will waft around the room , and my head will sink into the cool darkness of the squishy pillows until my alarm tells me it's time to go for a run, at sparrows' fart tomorrow.

Thoughts on Julia Childs' French cooking.

Obviously, it looked magnificent. And I am in complete agreement with her thoughts on butter (ie you can never have too much). But it didn't make me salivate the way that Mediterrainean or Middle Eastern or South East Asian cooking can. It was all meat and potatoes and European flavours. It screamed STODGE. Which is not to deny that any of the dishes would be anything but exquisite. But for a whole year?!

But I did love her intrigue with the science of cooking - that will make a souffle rise or a sauce emulsify or a combination of flavours explode. And the extravagance of some of the recipes were awe inspiring in themselves. I also really enjoyed the demented perseverance of Julie Powell, who must have been a sleep deprived loon for the love of cooking. And while the movie focussed on her job and her culinary feats, all I could think was "and she's still managing to writer her blog every day!" . That's a dedication to writing that is clearly well beyond me and I have to admire.

And so, with these thoughts, I wish you Bon Appetite, and good night.

* I cry in everything. EVERYTHING. Like Terminator Salvation, and RSPCA commercials and terrible rom coms. I'm beyond shame, it's who I am, and I've learnt to live with it. And the movie was quite touching in places.  Although it should probably also be noted that in the last few weeks I've been (not)dealing with this sudden burden of stress at work by being basically on the verge of tears a good 90% of the time, and spazzing out in more ways than one. So.

 

Oh, for an infinite supply of energy!

Oh, for an infinite supply of energy!

I would use it to do stuff, 
Instead of just sitting here, listening
To my audio book and drinking
My wine


Also, I suspect
I would use my vigour for good
Rather than my lethargy for

Poetry

Which as we all know, 
Is mostly rubbish, such
As this



Apologies.

Choc-top review aka Multiplex me

I have been to the movies twice this week. Twice! High-fives for holidays, people!...and so on. The first time was for cheap at the Nova on Monday to see Fantastic Mister Fox. The second was at Hoyts Victoria Gardens to see the Princess and the Frog.


At both these cinema experiences I have done what any self-respecting movie goer would do, and purchased a chop-top, and now I am doing what behoves any self-regarding blogger to do, and publicly comparing them. 

It's sad news for the Nova and their 'home-made' choc-tops, because their choc-top performed very poorly indeed. Here's everything that was bad about it:

• The only available flavour was Vanilla. I realise Monday's are busy days at the Nova. Surely their managers realise this too, and would have extra stock available? But no. Vanilla.
• It was pretty small.
• The ice-cream had that icy quality of having been thawed and refrozen a few times, and was not very nice.
• There was a massive air pocket between the chocolate and the ice-cream, ie. not much ice-cream at all.
• The cone was pretty stale.
• It was over-priced (in the tradition of all cinema snacks).

Here's what was good about it:

• It was covered in chocolate.
• The cone was a waffle cone (but remember, a stale one)
  

By comparison, the Hoyt's choc-top performed very well. Here's what was good about it:

• When informing us that not all flavours were available, the staff member apologised politely for the reduced choice. Apologised! Take that, coolsie Nova staff!
• The reduced choice still left us with three delicious flavours to choose from - chocolate, banana and boysenberry. I had boysenberry. Yummo.
• It was pretty big.
• The ice-cream filled the cone and the entire chocolate dome.
  
• The ice-cream was really creamy and tasty.
• The cone was a waffle cone and really fresh, crunchy and sweet.

Here's what was bad about it:

• It too was over-priced.

Frankly, the exotically flavoured home-made choc-tops were to me the only real perk of the Nova, because the screens are tiny, the seats tiny, the other cinemagoers are too often wankers, and the queues ridiculous. The failure of their choc-tops is a death knell for the Nova in my internal list of preferred Melbourne cinemas. Victoria Gardens on the other hand is large, cool, is conveniently located near Minh Minh for a meal adjacent to the movie, and has boysenberry choc-tops even on a busy day. Decision: made.

An open letter to the cafes of Melbourne

Dear cafes of Melbourne,

I was hoping to discuss the subject of soy milk. Hasn't the Bonsoy crisis just been terrible? And all you wonderful cafes who purchase Bonsoy despite its extremely high cost, appeasing your bourgie soy-drinking customers, such as myself, are suffering. 

However the crisis shows no sign of ending. In fact,  just 20 minutes ago I enquired at one of you as to whether you knew when Bonsoy would be back, and you said you didn't know!

But here's the thing. I still want to drink nice espresso coffee. And I still don't want to drink it with dairy milk. 

In short, I appeal to you all, lovely cafes with your commitment to first-rate produce and products, to please for the love of God buy some other kind of soy milk. Just in the interim. I know your regular supplier probably doesn't have it. You may even have to send a staff member to the supermarket for it. But surely this is the kind of flexibility and innovation that small businesses thrive upon.  May I also add: For fuck's sake.


Love, Natasha

A post about nothing

I'm getting pretty good at doing nothing. I'm particularly good at doing nothing whilst asleep.  At the moment, I'm racking up huge swathes of nothing at a time this way.

I'm doing pretty well at riding my bike around without a particular purpose, my aimless pedalling enhanced by some mild sunshine and a nonchalant breeze.

I'm great at doing nothing in front of a screen - be it at home or in a cinema. I sit, and the entertainment simply filters through to me. 

I'm less good at doing nothing at dinner time. I've been rubbing fish fillets in spices, and slicing a huge range of vegetables, and then eating them slowly with a glass of wine. Eating slowly is the triumph of those with little or nothing to do.

I haven't rushed anywhere in five days. I checked my work email yesterday, but didn't reply to any of them.


Sometimes I just walk along, looking at things.

I think my brain is melting.