|"Dukes of Hazzard" automotive mayhem|
What the hell?
|Bonnie & Clyde|
When I met Eddie at a literary event, he was living in a halfway house and a major studio was making his first smash book, Another Day In Paradise, into a film. There was instant chemistry.
|Eddie Little at Gold's Gym|
"Do you like that."
When I whispered, "Yes," he said,
"Then you and me, we're going to get along fine."
While we were together, Eddie never asked me to prepare any food for him, though he did love his butterscotch sauce and insisted we begin each smoke-choked amped-up day with eight-ten shots of espresso. Eddie was larger than life, a Colossus of Los Angeles, who is sadly no longer with us. He left behind a daughter whom he loved fiercely, and she him. But that is all part of another story, from another Love Junkie era...
Back to Whole Foods.
"No, I'm not," I said after a long, uneasy pause. "I'm not domestic. Cooking's a new passion."
|Missy Elliott at the Grammys|
|Scenes from a Bad Marriage: Mad Men's Don & Betty Draper|
|Patsy and Edina from "Absolutely Fabulous"|
|Non-kosher food banquet|
|Ozzy feeling the Black Sabbath|
"You know you're not supposed to travel on the sabbath."
"I didn't know. Can we at least come in? Have a bite to eat? We were excited to see you after our trip to Florida. I wanted you to meet my roommate."
"There is a saying that if the guests are unwelcome, unclean, the cholunt is ruined. This is what Batsheva whispered to me as we walked back from shul and saw you waiting." He paused, looked pained. "You can't come in."
"You're saying we ruin the food? Just by our presence?" I felt my fists curl, and a hot lava rise up from the base of my spine. Forget red-faced shame. I was molten red, burning.
"Let's go down to the basement," said my father, "call you a cab."
We never did enter the house that day, nor did we partake of the sabbath cholunt. Maybe my father brought us down some yogurts, or bananas. I don't remember. I think I never visited them again. If I did ever see my father, it was always separately. Until he divorced the woman who kept her kitchen so clean and productive, her house so spic 'n kosher span, her fear and loathing of shiksas and the outside world protected and fed. Because sometimes eating, and feeding can be destructive. You can taste it.
|Thich Quan Durc, a Vietnamese Buddhist monk who self-immolated in Saigon, 1963|
|Luis Bunuel's "Discreet Charm of the Bourgeoisie"|
|Feast in Borneo|
If I can cook, anyone can.