verbatim

Disturbing Book and Movie Week

After all the recent stress, you'd think that I'd have gravitated toward some fluff to entertain me, but you'd be wrong.

People kept telling me to read Defending Jacob by William Landay, not necessarily because they thought it was such a great book but because it's about a boy Pete's age and it takes place in my neighborhood. I really was determined not to read it, mostly because it's in fact about a boy Pete's age who is murdered in my neighborhood, possibly by another boy Pete's age! Thanks, but no thanks. At one point I half-heartedly suggested it to my book group members, all of whom are also moms of 14-year-old boys (Pete's pals), and they understandably looked at me like I was nuts.

To start with, it's not my favorite genre at all—a legal thriller. But more importantly, do I really need to read about a kid who gets stabbed at Cold Spring Park, where we've been a million times for our summer farmers' market, soccer practices, etc.? (Answer: NO) 

But then Barbara invited me to the annual library luncheon, where Landay will be speaking, and I thought it might be boring if I hadn't read it. Or rude of me. So I did. 

Sure, it was kind of fun and interesting to read a book where the characters shop at my Whole Foods, get takeout from that Chinese place we tried but didn't like, go to JP Licks for ice cream, etc. But the story of an assistant DA who is supposed to be handling a murder case but then is taken off it because his own son is the prime suspect ... too upsetting. 

If you like legal thrillers and don't have a teenage son, you might like it. It's not badly written, and the premise is fascinating, with quite a few plot twists and turns, and some memorable and well-drawn characters. Too close to home for me, though.

So, to lighten things up a bit, we watched Flight. Oh. My. God. Denzel Washington plays a veteran pilot who makes a heroic landing of a plane that is quite literally falling apart in the sky. Everyone agrees that if anyone else had been behind the controls, there wouldn't have been a single survivor (as it was, 2 flight attendants and 4 passengers died, out of a total of 102 "souls" on board, as they kept putting it). The only problem is that the pilot is an alcoholic and a drug addict and was under the influence of any number of substances at the time of the miraculously successful landing. And, as you might expect, that kind of complicates things.

Pete wanted to watch this movie with us, and I'm very glad I decided against it. A few reviews suggested that it would be OK for a teen, but I am here to tell you that it is most definitely not. Some of the scenes were quite gritty and upsetting, but then again, some of them were a little too positive. I won't say that alcohol and drug use are necessarily glamorized, but I could easily see a kid's takeaway being, "If you drink too much, you can do some coke and then you'll be back to normal." 

It's a very interesting premise for a movie, and I do love Denzel, but it was extremely unsettling.

Next week, maybe I'll just reread Harold and the Purple Crayon and watch Oklahoma! a few more times.

Sh-Sh-Sh-Shattered

On Saturday I had just gotten onto Route 128, driving Julie to her soccer game, when suddenly there was a huge THUNK on the roof. I looked up at my sunroof, which was covered in spiderweb-like cracks—completely shattered. I don't know for sure what happened, but I guess a piece of a bridge or maybe a rock fell as I went under an overpass. (On my way back home, I noticed there are quite a few overpasses on that stretch of the highway, although I wasn't aware that I had just gone under one when it happened.) I'm very glad I hadn't slid the sunroof completely open (it was just tilted up) or else the big, heavy thing would have fallen into the car, and possibly on us! I'm also grateful that they make sunroofs (and windshields) out of such strong glass, because otherwise we would have been covered in a million tiny shards.

As luck would have it, I already had an appointment to drop off my car for body work, because I'd had my first-ever fender-bender the previous week, when I clipped the corner of another car as I was pulling into a parking spot (also with Julie, who will probably never want to ride in the car with me again!). My first two insurance claims ever, and both in the same two-week span! There goes the $100 "good driver" savings on my deductible.

Thank heavens no one was hurt in either incident, except for a double case of shattered nerves (mine, not Julie's).

Aftermath

I don't need to tell you anything you've seen on the news fifty times already or can easily Google. Instead I'll tell you what went on here, in my home and in my family, in my heart and in my brain.

For those first few days after the marathon bombing, I don't recall feeling particularly scared or unsafe, even though the suspects had yet to located or even identified. I was mostly thinking about the people who'd been killed, and the many more who'd been injured, and all their families. In fact, on Tuesday, I took the kids out to do some spring shopping at Target and Old Navy, which are located in, of all places, Watertown. It's the next town over—really, we live just about 5 miles from where all the action was about to take place! The next day or two went by as usual; I kept an eye on the news but still didn't really stop to imagine that the bad guys were anywhere nearby. All three kids had dentist appointments and chiropractor appointments; on Thursday Pete turned 14 (!) and Andy met us for lunch at Minado, our favorite place to overindulge.

Then all hell broke loose. We later learned from friends in Watertown that they were awakened in the middle of the night either by a robocall from their Chief of Police telling them to stay inside or by police knocking on their doors so they could evacuate and check their houses from top to bottom. One guy we know was driving home to Watertown at about 2:00 a.m. after some late-night festivities and was stopped and forced out of his Honda at gunpoint. Once he was identified and cleared, the police were extremely polite and apologetic and escorted him safely home. I had no idea any of this was going on; the robocall from my Chief of Police woke me at 7:00 to alert me to the lockdown here. Andy had already left for work an hour earlier, so he was stuck there.

(Note: There are people out there who seem to think that this was some sort of official martial law scenario. I'm here to say that it didn't feel anything like that. For one thing, there was never an order to stay off the streets, never a warning that we would be arrested or fined or anything like that. It was instead strongly recommended that we "shelter in place" both for our own safety, since there was obviously a violent and desperate man on the loose, and also so that the law enforcement folks could do their job without having to worry about bystanders getting caught in crossfire, or traffic in the way of a chase. It seemed to me an entirely reasonable request. I also know that it wasn't an order because I saw some cars go by my window—not nearly as many as usual, granted—and because I know people who did leave their houses for various reasons. No problem. The streets leading into and out of Watertown were in fact blocked off, for what seem to be pretty obvious reasons. I don't know why people are imagining that this had become some kind of fascist police state nightmare. Every single person I know who had anything to do with the police reported nothing but helpful, understanding, and professional interactions.)

For the rest of the day and evening I followed the news closely, learning what was going on at the same time as everyone else, or perhaps a little sooner because I follow so many Bostonians on Twitter. Being under lockdown, I felt both safe and unsafe. I tried throughout not to let the kids be aware of my unsafe feelings, and it helped immensely to be in touch with friends and family via Twitter and Facebook. And I was very happy when Andy got home in the middle of the afternoon! We had plenty of food in the house and nowhere else we needed to be, so shelter in place we did. (The kids were supposed to go to Fenway with their grandparents that evening, but the game was postponed, as was soccer practice.) And then, finally, it was all over. The last thing I said on Facebook before going to bed was, "A huge THANK YOU to the local and state police for getting the bad guy before my kids' bedtime." 

I say "all over," but of course I mean just the manhunt. At all the Saturday soccer games there was a moment of silence for the 8-year-old boy who died on Monday, since his team is in our league. Not a lot of dry eyes at that moment, I'll tell you. The bomber is right now in the same hospital where dozens of victims are still in critical condition or waking up to a life without legs. Boylston Street is still closed off as a crime scene, and a makeshift memorial has been set up a few blocks away. Ten minutes from now there will be moment of silence, exactly one week after that first bomb went off and rocked our world. Pretty much everyone is back to school and work now, but I imagine it will be a good long while before we feel anything like back to normal. Or maybe we'll all just have to learn a new version of normal.

I'm really proud of Boston. I'm proud that we host the greatest marathon in the world. I'm proud that our world-class police officers worked tirelessly for days and did the job exactly as they were supposed to. I'm proud that our citizens did everything they could to help, from submitting cellphone photos of the bombing to donating blood to housing runners who were stranded in the city to staying indoors when asked. If you're proud of us, too, consider giving a donation to The One Fund to help those who were most affected by this event.

Safe

I'm nowhere near ready to post any kind of coherent thoughts about what happened yesterday, but enough people have contacted me to check in that I figured I should at least let you all know that everyone Chez Verbatim is safe. We were nowhere near the Boston Marathon finish line when the blasts occurred, and we've been able to account for all of our friends who were either running or watching downtown. We are lucky.

This has always been my favorite day to be a Bostonian, and I was just bragging to someone last week from out of state what a day of "good, clean fun" it always is. It's Patriots' Day, so lots of people are off from work; it's public school vacation week, so kids are all out and about; there's always a morning Sox game, so downtown is extra-packed; and the marathon itself is obviously a world-class sporting event that we are proud to host. Over the years I've posted how much we enjoy our short walk down the street to where the runners pass the 16.5-mile mark; sometimes we spot someone we know, but mostly we just cheer on everyone who passes. So, yes, I'm sad and I'm scared, but I'm also furious that our beloved marathon has been forever marred in this way—what will happen next year? It's too much to consider.

Girls in White Dresses with Blue Satin Sashes

A few of my favorite things:

Check out these 8 bizarre sounds you've made without realizing it, and the foreign languages that use them. If you want to do this the fun way, read the text and try to make the sounds yourself before watching the video.

The amazing folks at xkcd have made a poster out of their awesome comic showing every subway system in North America—and attaching them, so you can, say, get from Cleveland Circle in Boston to Cleveland.

I'm not sure I can live if someone doesn't manufacture these Pantone undies.

Here are some photos of famous authors when they were teens.

I've been using the iPhone app Moves for a while now, just for fun. It counts how many steps you walk or run and combines it with a GPS so you can track your travels all day. Every time you arrive somewhere, it marks the spot and then you can either choose from the list of nearby place names (Were you at Starbucks or the bank next door?) or type in your own name for the place (Mom's house). It's not useful for anything other than seeing how much you've walked (and not even in miles, just steps), but it is fun. (This past Monday was my all-time record since I started using it: 5906 steps! I think that's probably about a mile, right?)

Two Books, One Movie, Zero Thumbs Up*

Book #1: Ben Ryder Howe's memoir My Korean Deli details a couple of years in his life when he and his wife and mother-in-law bought a "deli," which is apparently how New Yorkers refer to all convenience stores (which I find puzzling, since "New York deli" means something very specific to me, and has nothing to do with Slim Jims and quarts of Miller Lite). The synopsis at Amazon says, "This warm and funny tale of an earnest preppy editor finding himself trapped behind the counter of a Brooklyn convenience store is about family, culture and identity in an age of discombobulation." Which is true, I suppose, except it wasn't all that warm or funny, and I failed to find any great insights about family, culture, and identity in any age at all. Howe, who is a writer and former editor at the Paris Review, comes across as both prententious and kind of a dimwit. We never really get to know his wife and mother-in-law at all, aside from the fact that they're Korean (which is why it's a "Korean" deli, I guess), and I found his imitations of his mother-in-law's accent tiresome. Situations are set up and then never fully developed, anecdotes are just strung together with no rhyme or reason, and the writing is mostly very pedestrian (except when it suddenly gets very fancy-shmancy). The only parts that perked me up a bit were where he was describing what it was like to work with George Plimpton.

Book #2: My book group picked something I never would've even considered, which is often a good thing but not this time: A Week in Winter, the last novel by Maeve Binchy. This is the fluffiest of fluff, full of sappy two-dimensional characters in a thoroughly predictable plot: a bunch of very different people all spend a week in a restored bed-and-breakfast on the west coast of Ireland. Each one comes to a better understanding of himself/herself by the end of the week (well, all except one, of course), because it's such a magical place. Snore. Our book group hasn't met yet to discuss this, but I expect the blender drinks to be coming out a little earlier than usual this time. 

Movie: So we start watching Spartan, and I'm thinking, "Could Val Kilmer be the worst actor alive?" and then Andy asks me, "What the heck is this movie even about?" and then I say to him, "This sounds like a bunch of actors who are reading a David Mamet screenplay but don't know how to act in one" and Andy agrees. Then he glances at the Netflix DVD sleeve and—gulp—discovers that it was written and directed by Mamet! (Which is probably how it ended up in my queue; I have hundreds of movies in my queue and no recollection of how most of them got there.) I've since read through a bunch of reviews and am stunned by the many raves it go; people seem to think that Kilmer's performance was "understated" and "Mametian," but I found it "wooden" and "laughable." Even Bill Macy couldn't save this—he knows how to do Mamet but had just a tiny part. Anyhow, this is about a special-ops guy who is supposed to rescue the president's kidnapped daughter, blahblahblah. Boring. We usually love Mamet movies, but this one was a dog.

*Which is how I feel about the loss of Roger Ebert, who came to mean so much more to me beyond his movie critic persona. His presence on Twitter was something I looked forward to on a daily basis, from his entries in the New Yorker's weekly cartoon caption contest to his political essays to his thoughts on life and death and everything in between. Rest in peace.

Steak Night

Last night I tried a new steak marinade I found at Leite's Culinaria. It's Korean-style, although it's not authentic bulgogi. I had everything I needed on hand except for the Coke and the steaks. I did three boneless ribeyes and didn't need to increase the marinade quantities. They ended up a bit overdone (see note below re cooking) but the flavor was very good.

Korean Steak

1 cup low-sodium soy sauce
1 cup Coca-Cola
¼ cup toasted sesame oil
¼ cup hoisin sauce
4 cloves garlic, chopped
4 scallions, minced
2 rib-eye steaks (bone-in or boneless) or sirloin steaks

In a small bowl whisk together the soy sauce, Coke, sesame oil, and hoisin sauce. Add the garlic and scallions and whisk again.

Pour the marinade into a large resealable plastic bag, add the steaks, seal the bag, and shake them around till they’re coated in the marinade. Place the bag in the fridge for up to 12 hours but no longer. Flip the steaks around a bit in the marinade every so often.

Pull the steaks out of the marinade, pile them on a plate, and let them rest at room temperature for 20 to 30 minutes. Discard the marinade.

Cook the steaks however you want: on a grill, in a cast-iron skillet on the stovetop, under the broiler—you can find detailed instructions here, but note that this recipe originally called for big honkin' 2½-pound ribeyes, so the recommended cooking time is considerably longer than what you'll need. In any event, you want to sear the outsides and then cook until the meat springs back to the touch. I recommend you use a meat thermometer—the internal temperature should be 115°F for medium-rare.

Transfer the meat to a cutting board and let it rest for 5 minutes before thinly slicing it.

New Recipe Success!

I've mentioned before that we are not big fish eaters around here, but I've been trying to rectify that a bit. And that includes shellfish, which, while not as good for you as fish, can still be a pretty good way to get some protein into a plate of pasta or rice. My kids had never tried bay scallops, and I was right when I guessed that they would like their size, texture, and mild flavor. And we love-love-love crunchy bok choy and gummy udon noodles, so this recipe was a sure bet. I doubled it, and we had only a little left over for my lunch the next day. It was delicious:

Udon Noodles with Bay Scallops and Baby Bok Choy

3 tablespoons vegetable oil, divided use
½ pound bay scallops, dried on paper towels
1 pound baby bok choy, ends trimmed, roughly chopped
½ cup low-sodium chicken broth
3 tablespoons soy sauce
1 teaspoon toasted sesame oil
1 teaspoon mirin
½ teaspoon sugar
2 servings fresh or frozen udon (I had never bought fresh udon before, so I got three 9-ounce packages of Nasoya brand for the 5 of us. We had a lot left over, but I don't think two packages would have been enough.)

Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil. Meanwhile, heat 2 tablespoons of the oil in a 12" stainless steel skillet over high heat until just starting to smoke. Season the scallops with kosher salt and pepper and add half of the scallops to the skillet. Cook without moving until well browned on one side, about 45 seconds. Stir and continue cooking until lightly browned on the remaining sides, about 30 seconds longer. Remove the scallops with a slotted spoon and set aside on a plate. Reheat the oil until smoking and repeat with the remaining scallops.

Add the remaining 1 tablespoon oil to the skillet and heat over medium-high heat until shimmering. Add the bok choy and stir well. Stir-fry until bright green and tender, about 1 minute. Pour in the broth, soy sauce, sesame oil, mirin, and sugar. Bring to a boil, and then reduce the heat to low.

Cook the udon according to the directions on the package. Drain in a colander and immediately transfer to the skillet. Toss well and cook over medium-high heat until the noodles mostly absorb the sauce, about 30 seconds. Stir in the scallops and cook until barely heated through. Serve immediately.