J, J, J, M, & M (+E) go to the movies

Among the many perks of her new gig at Brandeis, Melanie is entitled to purchase half-price "Silver Experience" movie passes for AMC theaters. We'd talked about seeing Julie & Julia, the no longer quite so new Meryl Streep/Nora Ephron film, ever since we saw previews for it. France, French cooking, a tall, striking woman, blogging, very nice husbands ... the attractions (and parallels to our fantasy life of literary brilliance, gustatory indulgence, and a chic apartment in La Ville-Lumière) are obvious! (For those who haven't heard of it yet, the movie tells two stories: primarily the story of how Julia Child learned French cooking and wrote her famous cookbook, and secondarily, as a frame, the story of a woman, Julie Powell, who blogged about cooking all of the recipes in Mastering the Art of French Cooking over the course of one year.)

Last weekend we tried using our magic tickets to see J & J but were turned away, as they are only honored after the second weekend of a movie's run. Instead of the movie, we saw the ICA's Shepard Fairey exhibit and The Comedy of Errors, as M. wrote about -- an excellent outing, but we were still panting in anticipation of seeing the popular and critically heralded film (even crochety ex-politicians and dismal scientists recommended it).

Our opportunity came Wednesday, Nth day of a humid heat wave here that has left us steadily, sweatily dripping to the point that we're ready to consult with the village witch doctor if his rain dance can speed along relief from the braising we've suffered! (Fortunately, Hurricane Bill is supposed to send some thundershowers our way, a break in the weather that should drop temperatures ten degrees or so, in exchange for some flashes and bangs.)

We met up with our pals Jerrel and Minh at their workplace downtown, which is conveniently located next to McCormick and Schmick's, a pretty fancy fish place that we normally can't afford to frequent, but which has a dirt cheap happy hour food menu paired with reasonably priced (for Boston) cocktails. The ladies stuck with their favorite, the Raspberry Cosmimosa, J. a martini and a Manhattan, and I tried the caipirinha, something I have to admit never having heard of before. (Bartending remains a large lacuna of my social knowledge base. We're we magically transported back to the Mad Men era, I'd have to study hard to raise my mixology grades enough to fit in.) It was delicious, competitive with the Long Island iced tea I favor (disdaining the opinion of the Atlantic Monthly -- what do they know?), but the main ingredient seems exotic enough for Boston (less than 1% exported, and most of that to Germany) to keep it out of our home cabinet for some time to come.

How was the movie: Terrific! All enjoyed it tremendously. Meryl Streep was in top form, and the supporting actors, particularly the "saintly" husbands, were quite good. (I have to say that I found the actress who played Julie completely forgettable.) The script was sweet and sentimental (for Paris in the fifties and sixties) with out slipping into syrup or saccharine. The portrayal of Paris fifty years ago makes one want to pack up and move across the ocean and back in time; the portrayal of cooking and eating French food impels one to run out and buy a copper-bottomed saucepan, ten pounds of butter, Mastering the Art of French Cooking, and head to the kitchen! Completely delicious, highly recommended. Bon apetit!

(At Minh's behest, we finished the evening with a visit to BerryLine a refreshing twist on frozen yogurt -- the fro-yo tastes like real yogurt, and the toppings are predominantly fruit. Relatively lo-cal, yet yum!)