Chicken Cacciatore

So, I'm not big on New Years' resolutions but I do like to set some goals for myself that are usually reading orientated with a new year. Since I wasn't able to come up with concrete ones in reading (I have a few vague ideas but I'm still working on them), I decided maybe I should branch out and challenge myself elsewhere. The kitchen seemed an obvious place for me to go.

The running family gag is that I can't cook. I did have some unfortunate misadventures when I was younger and for awhile there it was just easier to be on kitchen duty than attempt to make a dish of some sort. Then of course I left the comfort of college dining halls and had to fend for myself. So, I learned to cook in a sense. I rarely make something that isn't edible so I always assumed that was a step in the right direction for me. The idea of cooking is so charming though that I became a recipe collector with more cooking blogs than I could keep up with. Over the years, I've learned my talent level better and said goodbye to some of the blogs that just made me hungry while producing gourmet worthy meals that I had no inclination or reason to make. However, the recipe collecting has continued until I think, it may, just be a little out of hand. I have an email folder full along with clippings, print outs and magazine articles overflowing my recipe binder and box. My problem with that is...I've made maybe a handful of the recipes I have. So, goal for the year? Make them and decide whether they are keepers or whether I'm never making them again.

I generally make my most complicated meal on Sundays; just the day of the week I have the most time to devote to chopping, cooking, baking, dishes and clean up of the kitchen. It has the bonus that anything I make tends to make me enough leftovers that I don't need to do more than reheat until Thursday - one of the bonuses to being single and recipes almost always assuming you're cooking for a family of four. So today I finally got around to starting on this goal. I've been set back a few times as grocery shopping where I currently live can be challenging to find what you need sometimes. Other times, I improvise.

My first dish of the year? Chicken Cacciatore from Bread and Putter with a few changes due to grocery availability. Overall, I loved this dish - it tasted delicious and was super easy to make. It also didn't require hours of chopping things which is always good in my book. I recommend this dish actually for the weeknight. You could get everything chopped beforehand, get it cooking in the skillet and then you have 40 minutes to get things done before it's ready which I like on a weeknight - makes me get some chores done before I settle in for a night of reading and/or TV watching.

The final product!

Recipe:

Ingredients: 1 lb. chicken (thighs or breasts I think work fine), 2 medium green bell peppers, 1 package (6 or 8 oz.) button mushrooms and 1 jar of marinara sauce

Directions:
1) Coat large, deep skillet with cooking spray
2) Chop chicken into cubes and then brown on skillet
3) Add chopped peppers and mushrooms; cook 2-3 minutes on skillet
4) Pour in marinara sauce, cover and let simmer for 40 minutes until chicken is tender

I served the dish with spaghetti but I think it would be just as good over rice.

My Name is Asher Lev

From Goodreads

I have never heard of this book until a colleague mentioned it to me. It's a book that is often read by college freshmen. Since I missed that cue, I decided to read it to see what I missed. It makes sense to hand this to college freshmen though, the book explores parent-child relationships, the pain and fear of leaving home and learning that maybe your parents' way of life isn't going to work for you exactly.

Asher Lev is growing up in Brooklyn as an Hasidic Jew. His father is an important member of the synagogue who travels extensively for the Rebbe and his mother seems content to wait at the window for him to come home. Asher's art though gets him through even as it causes many of his family's problems over the years. His father does not understand his art and seems to see it as an affliction sent by God to try him. His mother spends their lives trying to be a bridge between the father and son, usually failing which leads to Asher's masterpiece, Brooklyn Crucifixion.

I liked this book a lot and appreciated what it was trying to accomplish. I can't say I much cared for any of the characters but that's because I feel like I didn't get to know them very well. So much of them is never explained, even Asher who is telling you the story. I also found them hard to relate to because honestly, I never had these sorts of problems. Asher's story of growing up was completely foreign to me, even when generalizing it.

I loved the art aspects to the story though. I always wanted to have the sort of talent Asher is born with - his eye is supposedly spectacular when it comes to painting. I did like the author's choice in not giving many details about his work until the last masterpiece which is the final crisis in Asher's life with his parents. I learned early to appreciate art since I couldn't seem to create it. Asher's story is about the joy and pain in being able to create and what it does to his very traditional, very religious family.

This was the part of the story that I just couldn't seem to care much about - the religious aspect. I don't come from a religious family and though my friends were always willing to share their religions with me, which was fun to explore lots of different religions, I was always vaguely uncomfortable with religion in general. Watching how much Asher struggles with it, I again realized I don't feel a sense of loss for not having that growing up. Religion always seems to complicate things, make you question what you feel is right for you. It can also have the opposite effect but Asher's story just seems to show the pain of having that tradition weighing on you as you try to grow into the person you need to be.

Lastly, and where it seemed to be a good book for college freshmen, was the parent-child relationship explored with Asher and his parents. Asher is a disappointment to his father, a strict traditionalist who doesn't comprehend his son's artistic talents. His mother is caught between two needy men in her life who expect her to choose their side. Again, I could understand these issues but I've never experienced them; in fact, this book made me want to call up my parents and thank them. They always let me be exactly who I was, even when they weren't sure where I came from. My whole family did. They sat through chorus concerts and high school musicals and tried to act interested when they asked what I was reading. I always appreciated that even if I didn't say it. This book make me grateful that they always asked even more.

Overall, I liked this book; it made me think even if it was kind of a depressing book on many levels but it made me dive into all my art museum books this past week so it's been lovely to have an excuse to revisit them.

Why wasn't I this cool as an 11 year old?

From Goodreads

I love a good, precocious, brilliant, pint sized heroine. R. L. LaFevers' Theodosia was my reigning favorite but Flavia de Luce is now a tie. In fact, I think it is a good thing these two lived decades apart  - I'm not sure the fictional world would survive if they ever joined forces.

The Sweetness at the Bottom of the Pie introduces readers to Flavia de Luce, the youngest daughter of an old English family growing up in a crumbling old estate in the 1950s. She has two older sisters, one obsessed with her looks, the other with her books. Her father is shell shocked from the disappearance and death of the girls' mother and his experience in the war, so Flavia entertains herself with her chemicals. She inherited a chemistry lab in her great house from a long dead relative. Her passion lies with poisons and her encyclopedic knowledge of them is at once brilliant and scary at the same time. Flavia though is mostly bored and lonely. Luckily for her, a dead body shows up in her cucumber patch the day after a dead jack snipe with a rare stamp impaled on its beak shows up on her back stoop and sends her on a thrilling adventure.

The book is told from Flavia's point of view and the author impressed me by creating an character who is brilliant and yet believable as an eleven year old. She knows her poisons but she's a typical youngest sister who has trouble relating with her older sisters and yet loves them. She also clearly loves her father, she after all tries to confess to a murder she didn't do to try to protect him, but has no way to relate to him. She still has a lot to learn about people which, as a kid, she should.

I am looking forward to the rest of the series definitely and recommend it if you're looking for a good mystery and a plucky heroine to start off your new year.

The King's Speech

From IMDB

Dramas aren't usually the sort of movie I gravitate towards - I like to laugh too much. However, I am an anglophile if nothing else and so The King's Speech has been on my to-watch list for awhile. I actually won a copy of it in a silent auction late last year but it got pushed out of the viewing rotation by Netflix and holiday movies. But, it was time to watch it finally and happily I had shortbread and chocolate in the apartment from Christmas gifts which seemed like, along with a cup of tea, the best snacks for a proper British film.

Now, what I am a sucker for is an inspiring story. Normally, these tend to be sports-focused but The King's Speech is a fabulously inspiring story of a reluctant monarch with a stutter. I knew little about the story of George VI and his struggle with his speech - I knew less about his brother Edward and Wallis Simpson as I always found the story almost disgustingly romantic (odd for me right?). I am glad I never liked the story actually because after reading up on the history, they really weren't all that nice it seems.

Anyway, the film follows the struggles of Albert trying to overcome his stutter to fulfill his public duties as a prince and later as George VI after his brother's abdication. I loved seeing Albert's relationship with his wife, Elizabeth, played delightfully by Helena Bonham Carter. I also liked seeing the glimpses of his relationship with his daughters. As the film explores, Albert didn't have a happy childhood, overshadowed by his older brother and Crown Prince, so to see that he makes an effort to be a good father and involved in his daughter's lives was kind of adorable. It helps that Albert is played by Colin Firth who, quite rightly, won an Oscar for his performance of Albert/George. In this final scene of the film when George delivers his first wartime speech, you want to stand up and cheer him on. Luckily for George, he does have his own personal cheerleader, his unconventional speech therapist Lionel Logue played delightfully by Geoffrey Rush. The scenes in which Logue and Prince Albert do his many speech exercises are laugh out loud funny - I especially enjoyed the use of swear words in his speech therapy. It was a great way to lessen tension in some of the most fraught moments of the film.

I also loved the photography and set design of the film. I'm not one to notice things like this normally but I felt like the film just presented an atmosphere that was perfect for its story. Somewhat gloomy yet mellow, The lighting was often dim, the sets earth tones even when in the palaces of England. I liked the somber, close feeling that gave the viewer - as if I was a part of the family shown rather than watching the royals put on their game face for the world.

A witty drama with a great atmosphere - I think it's a great mid-winter film to check out!

Some 2012 Goals

Now that Christmas is behind me and I'm comfortably hanging at home for this week, I've been thinking about 2012. I have a lot of goals for myself in this coming year but I have mainly been thinking about the goals that directly affect this blog. For the most part, I use this blog for my book and movie musings and I'd like to keep that this way. I think I share plenty about myself that way so telling you about what I did at work seems silly (and I have another blog for that).

In July of this year, I got what I called my mysterious illness that it took them until September to decide was TMJ and that I am still dealing with on a daily basis. That sort of threw off my nice groove off on lots of things. However, new year and new goals.

I feel I did well with my reading challenge last year - I got through a lot of books on my list that I felt I should have read by now and found some new favorites along the way. Two of which found their way under my tree this year - yay! I love getting books for Christmas - there is nothing better....except maybe an Amazon gift card so I can do some damage on my wish list.

I also blew my Goodreads challenge for the year out of the water - I clearly underestimated how many books I read in a year - 122 books down last year! So, now I have to come up with a new reading challenge but I am drawing a blank. I thought about reading the books on my to-read list in exact order but I feel like I would cheat on that challenge really fast and it would limit me in a sense. What if I found a new author I really love from one book and want to read the rest of his/her work? I would have to have too many rules or caveats to make that one work. So, I'll have to work on a different idea or maybe just sort of let my reading go wherever it wants this year.

But one goal I am sure of is this year, and I will make it a rule, is to review a book or write something on this blog at least once a week. I like writing on this blog when I remember to so if I set reminders for myself, I am hoping this will become a habit of mine. I have tons of blog post ideas saved up on things I want to write about - I just need to make the time and let's face it, I have lots of time on my hands most of the time. I just need to make the effort and I figure by writing it here, I'll be held to it. 

I head back west on New Year's Day and then the new year will begin. In the meantime, I'm off to enjoy the rest of my time home.

What would the world be like with no children’s books?

Among the blogosphere, the debate over children’s books versus young adult book versus adult books seems to have gotten very intense this year. It could just be me of course but it does seem to have erupted into a big “thing” and everyone has needed to weigh in on it. Personally, I don’t get what all the fuss is about. I enjoy reading – whether the book was meant for six year olds or ninety-nine years old, it makes no difference to me. In fact, some of the best reads of my life were meant for audiences much younger than me. Why adults seem so hung up on the latest young adult reading craze is beyond me. At least everyone is reading right?

Personally, some of my favorite books to this day are considered children classics though I didn’t appreciate them until I was much older. Reading Le Petit Prince in 11th grade French class changed everything – never mind I’d read it as a child and not understood what all the fuss was about. Perhaps it is only as a stressed out teen worried about getting into college that the baobab analogy makes sense. Anne Shirley guided me through 6th grade and now, her books take on new meaning as I trudge through my mid-20s with no Gilbert in sight but still plenty of laughs to be had. Doesn’t Anne seem like someone you’d like to be able to go visit with a bottle of wine after a hard day? She would remind me, as she once so comfortingly noted to Marilla, that tomorrow is a fresh day, there are no mistakes in it yet.

So thankfully, I’ve never walked away from what the rest of the world regulated to kids sections of book stores which is why I got to enjoy Harry Potter before my friends found him and directed them eagerly to The Hunger Games once a friend had already steered me in its direction. Sure, parents hem and haw over the appropriateness of these books for kids but even among the violence, these books are discussing fundamental problems all kids face – the search for who you are, who you are going to be and what you will stand for. I’m in my mid-20s and still figuring that out which is why I think these books, designed for kids, have such universal appeal. We never really stop wondering what we’ll be when we grow up and reading stories of brave, smart kids on the same path are comforting.

Especially since adult fiction just seem so depressing in comparison. It’s always a novel about death or depression or divorce. No one ever seems happy in contemporary fiction. There are ambiguous endings and the hero doesn’t always triumph in the end. I have enough of that in reality people; that is not what I like to find when I open up a book to escape for a few hours.

Take for instance the book I just finished, The Mysterious Benedict Society. Four smart (smarter than I will ever be), brave, resourceful kids go into danger to save the world and they win! Against all odds and reality, these four brilliant children do what no adult could do. They solve puzzles, connect the dots and act more bravely than I am (pretty) sure I would be able to in my (what the world thinks) vastly superior knowledge. It is slightly implausible? Sure, but why on earth would I want to read it if it was possible?

Nothing like some early 20th century scandal

From Goodreads

The House of Mirth is one of those books I was embarrassed to admit I hadn't read yet. And to be honest, I've been sitting here puzzling as to how I got my English degree without it - it screams like a book that should have been given in one of my classes along the way. However, I seemed to have missed it and that's a bummer because The House of Mirth is one of those books I would have adored discussing in a classroom setting, looking at the character dynamics, symbolism, language etc. As it is, I spent most of the book liking Lily Bart against my better judgment and hoping against hope that the poor girl would make it out of the novel alive. [SPOILERS from here on out] Alas, it was not to be. Though props to Wharton for taking the accidental suicide plot to its conclusion, I kept expecting Lily to simply freeze to death on the streets of New York like other hapless orphans shunned by society.


So, rewinding a little, The House of Mirth is essentially a novel of manners following the beautiful but poor Lily Bart through the upper crust of New York society circa 1905. Lily is proud and vain so she tends to be picky about her marriage proposals which is why she's still single despite being in society all her life with the one purpose of marrying a wealthy man. Because, that is all Lily is good for; her mother and society have seen to that. Through a series of misfortunes and some major backstabbing, Lily finds herself kicked out of the hallowed circles and trying to work for a living. Needless to say, it does not go well. In the end, Lily's pride basically does her in and a series of misunderstandings means the one man who does love her (but has the spine of a jellyfish...wait...that may be an insult to jellyfish) thinks the worst of her for most of the book and only has his flashes of insight when standing next to her cold, dead body.


OK, so in college I took this fabulous class called Working Girls which looked at the portrayal of women as workers in fiction from the late 1800s to the mid-1900s. During this class (which allowed me to write a paper on how men were superfluous to the heroine's ultimate goals so you know I loved it), we read Theodore Dreiser's Sister Carrie and as I was reading, I kept comparing that book to The House of Mirth for obvious reasons. Both feature young, down on their luck beautiful girls trying to make their way into New York's high society. However, Carrie triumphs in the end with her swanky apartment and wonderful career while Lily sadly overdoses in a run down tenement house. So, where does Lily go wrong? I think the difference in the two characters is Carrie was not raised in high society, something Dreiser stresses. Carrie simply carries an inborn sense of beauty and refinement with just the right amount of common sense and heartlessness; Lily is born to money and has it ruthlessly taken from her after she's been made into nothing more than a beautiful clothes hanger that men fawn over. In fact, there is a scene in The House of Mirth where Lily is part of a tableaux and the men are literally just staring at her; Seldon, the man who loves her, sees her in her truest form while Gus Trenor, the man who's given her money under false pretenses, sees something he's paid for but isn't allowed to touch. It's a fascinating scene and one where the differences between Carrie and Lily are stark. Carrie is the focus of a male gaze she controls throughout her story, discarding lovers as she outgrows them to end up independently wealthy and single. Lily has absolutely no control over the gaze on her. In fact, she's a slave to it in her belief that if she'd just submit, it will give her what she wants, i.e. a wealthy husband and social power.


So, that's as English major geek as I'll go on you. Honestly, I liked Lily Bart but I'm still trying to figure out why. I admired her moral code - in fact, she impressed me by sticking with it to the bitter end. I kept expecting her to crack, to compromise, to sink to the level of everyone around her but she never did. I also spent most of the book wanting to reach into the book, give her a good shake and yell, "snap out of it!" The same thing that I admired her for, sticking to her moral code, meant it was also the thing that drove me batty about her. She never bends at all or adjusts to her situation - in short, she never grows as a character. The Lily Bart we meet on the first page is the exact same Lily Bart we see depart on the last. Which may be the point for all I know but man was it irritating to read at times. Seldon, her love interest, also fails to change over time. He has potential in the beginning; both characters do but both lack the courage to follow through on anything really. Seldon I may have more contempt for than Lily - he is just flat out wishy-washy. Scared to act, to ask, to do anything but he's often the first person to become angry and turn away from Lily. As a great romance, it left quite a bit to be desired.


However, as this was Wharton, I wasn't expecting a great love story. After all, one of the reasons I avoided The House of Mirth for so long was my unfortunate encounter with Ethan Frome as an English major. Fabulous writing...deathly depressing story. I suppose I should be happy Wharton showed some kindness to Lily and killed her off in the end. What The House of Mirth does have is absolutely wonderful prose, prose you want to linger with - it has been some time since I read a book that I took my time enjoying the language of it, the tone of it, the very atmosphere of the book. It put me in the mood for some fabulous BBC drama with lots of velvet, taffeta and tea. As a movie, I almost worry The House of Mirth would be dull because while there is scandal aplenty, it's only hinted at or explained in reactions from the characters. I wouldn't want a movie to spell it out for me; the idea of everything happening behind a curtain and yet in front of a crowd is almost as delicious as the way Lily and Seldon react to them through the narrative. A novel of manners indeed.