The G3 plus one (11 year old Naomi) made an outing on Sunday to see No Reservations. This is really not a good movie, in any deep way, but if you like food and restaurants and don’t mind a dash of sugar sweet romance, it’s a hard movie not to like, especially on a rainy summer Sunday afternoon. The settings are urban and lovely, especially the Greenwich Village restaurant where much of the action takes place and the pre-war-ish looking apartment that is home to Kate, our masterful chef and imperfect human being heroine. Predictably and entertainingly, Kate’s rigidly ordered life is upset by the arrival of her orphaned niece and an earthy, talented and handsome male sous-chef. The trio navigates an only slightly bumpy road to happiness and along the way they cook and eat. There is a homey pizza-making sequence about half-way through that Shana and I particularly enjoyed as our respective partners were in their respective kitchens turning out pizza at that very moment. (John sniffed with disapproval when he heard that Nick, the sous-chef love interest used pizza PANS not a pizza stone.) There is a little erotic dwelling on desserts, culminating in a perfectly torched creme-brulee that made me drool, and lots of enticing glimpses of high-end lobster, lamb and quail dishes which excited my urban longing.Personally, I had a hard time buying Catherine Zeta-Jones and her frosty beauty as anyone who would spend a lot of time in restaurant kitchens (and her whites remained impeccably white in the kitchen — as if!), but that quibble aside, I had a good time. And if you’re an 11 year old girl or taking the time to read this blog, you probably will too.
(As an aside, I note this is a pretty lame post after being incommunicado for a month. There’s much to report from the summer culinary front; I’m just getting my feet wet again).