On Monday, I went to an 11:30 am showing of the 40th anniversary remastered version of the 1983 Talking Heads concert masterpiece, Stop Making Sense.
A perky friend had invited me to go to a showing on Saturday night at 9:30 pm, which is the more obvious time to see a spirited concert film that makes you want to whoop and cheer and dance in the aisles. But I have trouble staying awake during movies, not to mention trouble staying awake past 10 or 11 pm. Also, I had cooking to do for a party the next day.
It both bothered me and didn’t that I recognized my limitations and, instead of trying to cram everything in, did the prudent thing and stayed home to cook and binge watch Season 1 of Girls.
More on that 11:30 am show in a few minutes.
I was having a Girls weekend.
With J away visiting his mother, I was doing the kinds of things I used to do as a young single woman. After I dropped him off at the airport, I stopped to pick up the Italian plums I had been offered from a friend’s tree (my plum hoarding rant paid off. Thank you, K!), swung by Macrina bakery for a latte and their iconic squash harvest bread, and then came home to begin my cooking marathon.
Some standouts: Carrot-Almond Polenta Cake with Lemon Drizzle from
‘s Tenderheart (follow her on Substack); Pomegranate Walnut marinated olives from Naz Deravian’s Bottom of the Pot; Fig, Fresh Pecorino, and Walnut Salad from Sabrina Ghayour’s Sirocco, and those goat cheese-piquillo pepper- honey canapes I told you about last week.There was a Sunday morning yoga class with a mesmerizing teacher named Ricardo, followed by a magical walk through the Ballard Farmer’s Market - all autumnally golden and lovely.
Then, more cooking (a Spanish tortilla,
’s Flip-Over Plum Cake. She’s also on Substack.), a party with a great group of women, and more Girls.As a single woman navigating life and career in Washington, DC, I watched Sex and the City religiously, while eating air-popped popcorn for dinner and sipping white wine spritzes. It wasn’t exactly relatable (who could afford those shoes and all that brunch?) but I appreciated Carrie’s reflections and envied her supportive-no-matter-what friends.
For my older daughter, Broad City and Girls, have played that role to a certain extent.
“OMG Hannah’s parents,” I texted Daughter #1, laughing at how relatable they were when they cut her off financially. I found myself watching Girls as both a mother and a former girl. The heartbreak, the confusion, the self-absorption, the stupidity, the fun, the intensity, the friendships, the lack of money. What, if anything, has changed?
Riding in the car Thanksgiving weekend 2021 with both my daughters, Daughter #2 insisted we listen to the 10-minute version of Taylor Swift’s All Too Well every time we got in the car.
Even now, that song wrecks me whenever I hear it, both as a mother and a former young woman remembering the pain and confusion of those early mercurial relationships.
One of my daughters saw Taylor Swift in concert; the other attended Beyonce’s Renaissance show. That they have these two female role models to inspire them reassures me. Though very different, each of these icons holds her power and that is a very good thing for young women to witness.
Now, back to Talking Heads and that matinee IMAX showing of Stop Making Sense.
Predictably, the theater was pretty empty and everyone there had gray or colored hair.
When the previews came on, the sound was deafening (I’m sure some in the audience turned down their hearing aids), but there was no picture. From every corner of the theater, gray headed-people (okay, mostly women.) popped up and, instead of dancing, marched into the lobby to confront the theater management. That made me laugh.
40 years ago, when we watched that film, we were powerless 20-somethings. Look at us now, asking to speak to the manager.
The film more than stands the test of time.
David Byrne is otherworldly, the band is tight, the music is the same as it ever was (i.e. great).
But what struck me, watching it again after 40 years, was Tina Weymouth, who my daughters might refer to as “Queen.”
Tina, creating the foundation of the music with her bass line. Tina, prancing and dancing across the stage. Tina, confident in her zone. Tina, confident in her power.
I wonder if 40 years from now, my daughters will watch the Taylor Swift Eras tour film, perhaps with their daughters, and will re-experience the music through both the lens of nostalgia and the lens of motherhood. I’m going to see it soon with Daughter #1. She promises to prop me up when All Too Well is featured.
I also wonder how it possible that none of the characters in Girls, Broad City, or the original Sex and the City had a cat? Major plot flaw.
The Best (and Worst) Thing I Cooked This Week
After all that fancy party cooking, and with the rain returning to Seattle, I wanted to join the parade of people celebrating autumn by cooking a comforting pot of beans. I decided to riff on the Rancho Gordo recipe for White Chili with Turkey and Green Chilis (from their book Heirloom Beans) by using canned beans and pre-roasted Hatch chilis. It satisfied my craving, even if I did mix up the amount of cayenne pepper in the recipe (one teaspoon) with the amount of cumin (three tablespoons). Oops.
What’s chili without cornbread? I have a million recipes for it and sometimes just use the recipe on the box or bag of cornmeal.
This time, I decided to use a recipe from an iconic cook book (I’m not telling you which one, because the mistakes were mine) that I have on my Kindle. I used the wrong size cast iron pan, I mixed up the cornbread recipe with the corncake recipe that followed it, and predictably, the cornbread sucked.
When I told J we were having leftover chili, he said, “How about a redo of the cornbread? Cornbread can be such a magical thing. Yours was not.”
So, as an homage to Stop Making Sense, I have decided to return to my original cornbread recipe from the 1977 edition of the Moosewood Cookbook.
You know who else is an icon?
.Delicious Corn Bread adapted from The Moosewood Cookbook
(Note - this recipe is from my copy of the 1977 book. Mollie Katzen has this version on her website. It calls for a lower oven temperature (350, which I think is a good idea) and slightly less honey. Try them both and see what you think. Remastered versions can definitely enhance the original you know and love).
Preheat oven to 425*. Butter an 8-inch square pan.
1/4 cup honey*; 1 cup buttermilk; 1 egg; 1 cup yellow cornmeal; 1 cup unbleached white flour; 2 tsp baking powder; 1/2 tsp baking soda; 1/2 tsp salt; 3 T melted butter
Beat together egg, buttermilk, and honey
Mix all dry ingredients together
Combine all ingredients, including melted butter, and mix well
Spread into buttered 8-inch square pan and bake for 20 minutes.
Totally relate to both the music nostalgia (saw Taylor Swift in March, pretty epic, but my best memory is dancing in the mosh pit to the Ramones in 1995), and the inability to stay up late (see again: Taylor Swift concert, me drifting off a little during folklore).
So much here. Sorry quick comment as going out with Wordy Rappinghood as an ear worm (wonderful Tina Weymouth). So many great recipes to explore 🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻