Jon

Apparently this is kitchen gadget destruction week. My rice cooker and my dishwasher both stopped working. I looked at fixing the rice cooker, but ended up tossing it; I'll get another one sooner or later. My landlord said that he wants to replace rather than repair the dishwasher, but that hasn't happened yet.

Despite my appliance disasters, I made some tasty food this week: a chicken and apricot masala, which turned out well despite not being entirely certain that the unlabeled spices were what I thought they were, and despite running out of both ginger and garlic and simply not having some of the stuff called for by the recipe. Also, a pot roast that turned out quite well, and a large quantity of pickled if also slightly underspiced beets.

Last Sunday I saw both Sin City and Million Dollar Baby. It was funny to me that, despite their radically different stylistic choices, they could almost have been part of the same movie world.

Sin City was the best film representation of what it's like to read a comic book that I could imagine, and seemed to be an accurate representation of Frank Miller's original comics, though I've really only glanced at them occasionally. It may not be the best movie ever, but it's the best Sin City movie I can imagine. And I still think that Benicio Del Toro is underrated.

Million Dollar Baby is a great example of why Hollywood loves Clint Eastwood. The movie is conventional in the extreme, in its construction and tone. (The lighting is far moodier than Hollywood usually lets directors get away with.) But conventional is not a synonym for insincere; Clint means exactly what his film says, and he feels it himself. Conventional but a genuine expression of one man's vision; what more could Hollywood want?

I started watching Ray with Tonx and Emily on Sunday night, and Tonx and I finished it on Sunday. The music is of course wonderful, and Jaime Foxx's performance is incredible. But the film itself was incredibly frustrating: none of the plot lines were adequately resolved. Was Ray being cheated by his long-time friends, or was his new manager the one taking advantage of him? What sort of relationship did he have with his second family, before Margie died? Did he maintain a relationship with that son? It's half a movie, and two and a half hours long to get that far. It could have used a lot of compression, and a different set of choices as to what Hackford covered.

Last night I saw Sin City again, with ironheadjane. It held up to a second viewing; the connections between the various stories became more clear, though really it's a bunch of loosely-assembled pieces. That's not a criticism; it mirrors how comic books are assembled, between issues, between storylines.

Afterwards, we went to the Old Town Ale House. Yummy sandwiches, and a modest but well-curated selection of beers. I drank a cask Red Ale, from Big Time, and a Dick's Imperial Stout. Laura had a Verhaeghe Echte Kriek and a Petrus, but I don't remember which one. Very satisfying, as an experience.

However, today I'm frustrated by my continued fuzziness. I got enough sleep, I am properly rehydrated, and I'm still not hitting on all cylinders. I love beer, but I really hate the second-day effects of alcohol. This is why I drink far less than I used to: I just don't often feel I have the freedom to function less well.

I've written one capsule book review today for Erowid's upcoming book review section, but I was hoping to write two or three. With enough jiggering, it's at least a nice tight review. Hopefully I can knock out a few more tomorrow, since it's not happening tonight...

Well, yesterday, now.

The day started with pancakes, from scratch. Something I've never done before on my own. Easy as pie (easier, for me), and yummy as heck.

We went to the gym, and went to Brouwer's restaurant, the new place opened up in Fremont by the Bottleworks guys.

Brouwer's was a mixed bag. They still don't have a sign up, and there were only a couple of free tables. Once they've become more widely-known, it might be too packed to go there often.

The atmosphere was lovely. The acoustics were decent; we didn't have to shout at each other to be heard. The tables were wonderful. The fake stone on the walls was not-so-great, but not too intrusive (except maybe above the bar, if you're downstairs). The music was mostly so-so jazz, though one John Tesh song stuck out and frightened us.

The beer selection on tap is great. Unfortunately, of the seven beers we ordered at our table, they were out of three. That will doubtless get cleared up in time as they figure out what their volume is, and what they can sell. Better to run out of stuff occasionally than to sell stale beer, though.

There was no list of bottled beer, and if what I could see behind the bar was it, well, it's better than what I've seen at other restaurants here in Seattle, but it's no Brickskeller. There were no actual tart lambics, just Lindemanns. Not a bad selection, but I admit to being slightly disappointed by the bottles. (Mind you, forty taps is nothing to sneeze at...)

The food was eeeh. The cheese plate we got as an appetizer was pretty good. Some complained that it could have used a bit more fruit, and more crackers. The cheese portions were a touch on the small side, but the selections were quite nice. There was a Guinness cheddar, an aged Gruyere, a triple-creme brie, and Point Reyes blue.

My mussels were disappointing. They didn't seem as fresh as they should have been, and too many were still closed, which indicated that my taste of the freshness was about right. The vegetarian options were limited, the fries weren't great Belgian-style frites, and though I thought the steak was done perfectly, it wasn't done to the medium that was ordered.

Despite that, and despite Seattle's typically high prices for so-so food, well, the beer selection was the best I've seen at a bar in this town. I had a North Coast Old Rapsutin on nitro, and a Weihenstephan Korbinian, both of which were delicious. I'm likely to go back, at least for the Barleywine festival in a week, and possibly more than that.

I hope the food shapes up; I really, really, really want to like the place.

(After dinner, we watched Carnivale and ate yummy pots de creme from the Victrola; I forget where Tonx says they originate, but they were incredible.)