2008.03.21
Inertia
I’ll happily admit I fell off the wagon. I had help, though. No, it wasn’t particularly my choice to have Paris Hilton spread-eagled on my front page for over a year, nor have a sarcastic post — robbed now of context — make it seem at a glance that I’m a follower of Rush Limbaugh. The first tragedy was the swoon and expiration of my poor web server, followed by endless fretting about where to take my hosting needs, capped by a poor decision to go cheap. Also saw a desire to return to self-hosting thwarted by said cheap solution refusing to run Movable Type without crashing, and great palpitations of ennui at the thought of moving my templates over to WordPress or some other suitor. All this just before running into a giant brick wall of “surprise, it’s life calling.”
Well, I’m still alive here. Seems only like common courtesy to let you all know. Do people still stroll the streets around here? Is it sunny where you are?
2008.03.23
Many pangs
There are wagons, and there are wagons. The latter is somewhere far, far away, on the other side of — jesus — fifteen months in which I’ve written literally zero words of … Art? Trivia? Rote journalizing? Whatever it is, none. Nil.
I’m not sure where it all went. Well, actually, lie — I’m as reasonably sure as the next gal, but I’d no warning it would be so long… without. Didn’t even know i could live like that. But truthfully, I’ve been happy — happier than ever. Pitter patter kisses. Wicker pups. Sorry for being vague! Vagueness makes me happy right now, too. As does vagary. Selva inconstant! Hello again, Eden.
Still wishing for my own website back. Still hampered by incompetent webhost. Am considering re-adopting capital letters in my writing as a measure of defiance, until I Find Home.
George Clooney is on the television right now — Michael Clayton. He’s like the polar opposite of Miles Massey, another lawyer he played back in 2003. How many degrees off am I from the me of way back when?
Well, let’s see.I forgot
2008.03.24
Twilight intervention
I have over eight thousand unread posts in bloglines right now — kidding you not, love. I hesitate to overuse the word wagon, but… have you seen it anywhere?
I’d meant to write about this at the beginning of 2007, when my period of being incommunicado qualified as Claire-Danes-goes-to-college instead of the J. D. Salinger it’s become, and when it might have actually done some good, but somehow Seattle finally got a decent ramen place: Samurai Noodle, in Uwajimaya Village (though last week’s Weekly claims that two more quality ramen joints have opened up in the city since). I love ramen — real ramen, not the stuff you buy at the supermarket — and this is the good stuff: soft but substantial noodles, maitake mushrooms, spring onions, bamboo shoots and a soy sauce-steeped hard-boiled egg. Thick slices of fall-apart-in-your-mouth tender roast pork. The tonkotsu broth is — oh god — so umami that it might make you nauseous if you’re not up for the experience. Pure liquid pig. If you’re faint of heart, the shoyu-tonkotsu broth is a measure lighter and may give you some breathing room.
Anyway, I digress. The reason I wanted to write, and the sadly time-limited aspect of it, was that somewhere in the wintry months early in 2007 there was a yuzu-shoyu ramen on the menu, and it was glorious. Citrus in soup is a good thing (cf. avgolemono or pho, and I always like to squeeze a lime or two into the pot when I make posole), and this hit all the right notes — the tartness of juice, sweet-bitterness of zest and salt-umami of the base broth. Perfect for a winter morning and sorely missed. I’d hoped that with a year having passed it would slip onto the menu again and I’d have a reason to share this with you, but alas, all you get is a sad tale of lost love. Sorry!
p.s. — tips for dining at Samurai:
- You don’t get some of the extra goodies unless you order the “Samurai Armor Bowl” version of a particular ramen flavor. Especially egg: egg is key.
- Tonkotsu broth comes with thin noodles. This may be because the soup stands up pretty strongly for itself (and probably would literally do so if allowed to chill). If you like doughy noodles in your ramen, you can ask for these al dente, and they’ll feel a little more substantial. On the other hand, all other flavors come with a significantly thicker noodle, one that’s a bit much at full firmness, so you might stick with the default doneness there.
- The tsukemen fish broth, along with its spicier variants, the evocatively named “Tetsu Hell Fire” and “Tetsu Hell Fire Max,” are dipping broths. You get your noodles to the side, “dry,” and dip them into a small bowl of sauce. Not my thing, really. If I want something like ten zaru soba, I’ll order ten zaru soba, thank you very much.
- Apparently they have takoyaki, but I keep forgetting this when I’m there.
- YMMV, despite my best intentions!
Iridescence
I realize the last entry was crying out for a photo, and I was tempted to steal this one from the P-I article I’d linked, but thought better of it. Sadly, my photography has been as absent as my writing, so I’ve none of my own to share. From Samurai, that is. Here’s a little something from another decent ramen restaurant in Bellevue, Mamasan:
Their tonkotsu is decidedly less rich than Samurai’s, but a little more complex. Ginger, probably sake as well. I’ve also heard, from multiple friends, that the Nagasaki champon is where it’s at, but haven’t tried it myself. A warning: there’s a pretty a sketchy vibe if you go after dinnertime — they’re open late, and the place is filled with Japanese businessmen and eager-to-please waitresses hanging off their sides as they sing karaoke. Eww! And if you decide to brave it anyways (and especially if you’re a woman dining alone), prepare to get a good dose of stinkeye.
On the other hand, lunchtime has always felt pretty safe.
2008.03.25
Bastille Day
As of last night’s posts, Paris Hilton has now been banished from my front page. I suppose some would say my work here is done, and I certainly feel a sense of accomplishment.
But! I haven’t told you yet. I’m having a photo published in a real live photo magazine (Popular Photography & Imaging), which I guess has happened before, but they’re paying me for it, which hasn’t. Whomever it was found me on flickr, which means that after nearly twenty years, I’ve finally figured out how to make money on the internet.
This is the one, an oldie:
I might even have some money left over after paying for the magazine!
2008.03.28
Rose on Rose
An Eyre year
Please excuse me while I girl out and talk Brontë for a bit! I’ve always loved Jane Eyre and its film adaptations, and somewhere in the last year and a half managed to catch up on most of what’s out there. Obviously, most recent on the landscape is the 2006 television version with Toby Stephens and Ruth Wilson. It was certainly pretty, but I came away somewhat cold. They tried to up the Gothic mood in a way that kind of came off as kitschy, and I never really got over Stephens’ smirking turn as a cyber-suited Bond villain. How perfectly unfair of me! I did like Jane here; she’s nearly perfect, but I think the quality of adaptation turns on the Rochester in play, and he doesn’t quite do it for me.
Finally, finally, the 1944 film starring (and probably more than a little directed by) Orson Welles is available on DVD, so I’ve been able to patch up a criminally large hole in my Jane Eyre bibliography. However, it’s more of a required supplement than a primary version. There’s some fascinating cinematography; I especially love the sequence at Lowood where Helen (Elizabeth Taylor!) first meets Jane. Orson Welles is, well, Orson Welles, with all you’d expect from that fact. Joan Fontaine is just a little bit too refined as Jane.
Timothy Dalton was the Rochester of my swooning teenage years, and though I still love him, there’s a theatrical bombast there that kind of takes away from being able to be immersed in his 1983 version. Still, very nearly everything is perfect here, including Zelah Clarke, who is either freakishly short, or only in comparison to Dalton. St. John Rivers is an epic tool in this version, though, so if you’re a fan of the man with the Good Book, this will not please. I will guarantee you won’t find a better wedding scene than the one Dalton puts on in here.
Have you seen the 1972 Jane Eyre starring Sorcha Cusack and Michael Jayston? You’ve probably never even heard of it, but as far as I’m concerned, it’s the best version out there. This is finally out on disc as well, and in surprisingly fine shape (it looks much better than the 1983 set). Picked it up based on internet buzz, and immediately fell in love. Certainly I think Jayston’s the ideal Rochester: gruff, distant and yet charismatic; simultaneously witty, passionate and hurtful. You could say he’s Captain von Trapp without the entourage or the edelweiss, and there’s even a physical resemblance to be seen. I was also pleased the narrated bookends to many scenes, read straight from the book.
And Sorcha Cusack has amazing eyebrows.
Terrible versions, both from the ’90s: Franco Zeffirelli’s motion picture version with William Hurt (??) and Charlotte Gainsbourg (whose recent Jarvis Cocker-produced album, 5:55, I did enjoy), and A&E’s version with Ciaran Hinds (amazing in Persuasion, terrible here, and goddess forgive him for Tomb Raider: The Cradle of Life) and Samantha Morton (generally wonderfull, but here, not so much).
2008.03.30
Don’t watch the tape
Lia uploaded a beautiful self-portrait on flickr and facebook the other day, and it wasn’t long before somebody commented that she looked just “like a heroine in a Japanese horror flick.”
Well! I could hardly let that go without chiming in..
…or I could play Rock Band
I know Facebook is supposed to be the wave of the internet future, but so far I’ve spent 80% of my time there playing “Scroggle” and “Babble” (Sh! Don’t tell the rights holders!) and the rest fending off messages from lovely people who — apparently — enjoy “biting chumps.” Am I missing something?
30 Rock returns next week. Joy! I was almost getting desperate enough to shed the last of my morals and watch Step It Up and Dance. Thank you, Writers’ Guild! My life does not need more Elizabeth Berkeley in it right now.
2008.03.31
I think I prefer to stay inside
Comfort food for breakfast, dai bao — an enormous Chinese steamed bun, nearly as big as a softball, filled with ground pork, water chestnut, Chinese sausage, half a boiled egg, and other goodness. It’s an entire meal in one handheld lump: warm, wild, wonderful. An easy mess, if one’s not careful.
Koreans have a similar concoction, wang mandu, with glass noodles and spring onions and, well, you get the picture. I’ve heard rumors of a Vietnamese analogue as well. Someday I’d love to open a restaurant where every dish you order comes to you in the form of a giant, doughy steamed bun bursting at the seams with … lamb shwarma? gyros? Italian sausage and bolognese? The mind fills with possiblity.
Grabbed Preacher: Gone To Texas from the library, which I’m told is long overdue for a read. Am in a contradictory mood for dark/unredemptive and fluffy/romantic entertainment, though the graphic novel form feels right either way. Any recommendations?