weekend report: April 18-20

Friday—Spent the morning web surfing and catching up on e-mail, then spent the afternoon shopping. First stop: 50th and France, ostensibly to pay a long-overdue visit to the Premier Cheese Market. I have to admit that the shop is a bit of a disappointment. The shop lacks character. The cheese selection is standard fare. Still, while I can find most of these cheeses at the Lund's or Kowalski's, unlike the grocery stores, Premier Cheese Market doesn't over-refrigerate their cheese, displaying cheeses in a case, cutting pieces to order, wrapping them properly for you to take away. I found the raclette cheese for dinner (the raclette grill and a typical array of veggies on which to pour the melted cheese), as well as some cured meats (the Spanish cured pork loin, lomo, and salchichon, a chorizo from the famed pata negra, flavored with black pepper rather than smokey paprika). Then I drove up to France 44 wine shop (at 44th and France) and splurged on a few bottles of wine that we probably should cellar but will drink immediately because I’m silly that way. The best part was finding a kindred spirit at France 44's cheese counter, as well as an unbelievable small selection of cheese. I came home with three very promising domestic, raw milk's cheeses that I plan to serve next weekend. I so can't afford to be unemployed.




Saturday—Setting the alarm clock on Saturday mornings is just plain wrong. We had a soccer meeting at 8 a.m., followed by practice in the fairly miserable cold, but we met the coaches, and as we suspected, the attorney is an ass. That’s all I can say. Simon and I ran errands in the afternoon, including a stop a Izzy's (hot brown sugar, unadulterated by an izzy). That evening, friends Colin and Helena hosted a dinner party to celebrate the birthdays of friends Sarah and Dave. We had a marvelous time, drinking far too much red wine and Knob Creek. The food, as always, was sensational—a grilled flank steak marinaded in a thick chimichurri with spring onions and cherry tomatoes, gratineed potatoes, and a green salad (arugula, blue cheese, pine nuts, sun-dried tomatoes tossed with a unabashed balsamic vinaigrette).

Sunday—Six months after turning 40, I finally accept my limitations when it comes to carousing. We didn't get home until midnight. Morning came painfully, mostly because the boys woke up at the crack of dawn. I don't know how they function. Winston (muffins) and Simon (scrambled eggs) helped me make breakfast, but mostly chased each other around the house with Winston's new video camera. Winston tried filming his butt, because he's six. When pressed for details, he was very embarrassed, admitting that he'd tried to film his butt but it was too difficult. Sigh. The high point of the day was sneaking out for a movie with Caryl. We saw Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day at the Grandview. Based on a novel published in 1938, the story is a fairy tale set in London at the outbreak of WW2. I don't want to give away much, except to say that I really enjoyed it and would urge anyone who likes a romantic escape. Amy Adams was a delight, and Frances McDormand is, as always, solid. The styling was spot-on, with a luxurious Deco sensibilities. Since the Cities were in the throes of a geniunely lovely spring day, I sat outside and dipped into Miss Pettigrew, the novel. Delicious. John and I wrapped up the day by watching four—yes, four—episodes of Dexter, thus concluding the first season. What an intense series. Highly recommend it, especially if you like well-written police procedurals with a little quirk. Also a bit creepy. Months ago we cancelled our premium cable channels, but I'm seriously considering ordering Showtime for Dexter, Weeds, and more.