A Saucy Sunday
On the weekend before last we had Chris and Raf up, and of course Raf brought Marcello, her miniature excellent Italian greyhound.
You should see this fashionable little alien running around the yard. His back legs start spinning and disappear, and then he’s off in a cloud of dust straight out of Loony Tunes. He could miss the left at Albuquerque and end up in another hemisphere. Chili was delighted to finally have someone around who can keep up with her. Murphy just stared in mute shock.
It was a chilly and Italianate three-day weekend, so on Sunday I made a Sunday Gravy. This version is not especially taxing: you brown every type of pork you can get your hands on, add two cans of San Marzanos (or are they?!) and put it in the oven, then throw together some meatballs and drop them in two hours later with a ton of basil and parmesan.
I did it in a giant roasting pan instead of the Dutch oven, to expedite the browning process, and I skipped the prosciutto in the meatballs, because there wasn’t any at the grocery store in Calicoon, and there was already an unholy amount of pork going on. I also skipped the veal, because I’m a hell of a guy.
Your Knees. Get On Them.
I’m late to this party but Jacqueline Novak’s Get On Your Knees is on Netflix now, and it’s the funniest thing I’ve seen in years. If she had written all of this down and sent it to the New Yorker she would be the essayist of her generation, but instead, amazingly, this is standup comedy, performed with the verbal acumen of a pro rapper. I thought standup was dead! What a relief.
Also my parents are reading this thing now (hi!) and in unrelated news everyone should carefully read a description of the subject matter before accepting this recommendation.
Speaking of Things I Don’t Want to Watch With My Parents
On this most recent Saturday, back in Brooklyn, we had dinner at Little Grenjai (get the rice salad!) and saw Drive Away Dolls at the Nitehawk, which is a funny, totally inessential punk rock road movie. I like that sort of thing. I enjoy watching talented people screwing around, maybe not going for Best Picture this time out. I liked Blue in the Face. I also think both of the leads ought to be movie stars, which they may already be, I don’t get out much.
There’s a Shannon and the Clams song on the soundtrack and a mysterious McGuffin in the trunk of their car. How bad could it be? Well full disclosure: Maya thought it was dumb, and your mileage may vary.
