Sunday, December 22, 2013

It's Noon Somewhere….The Grasshopper


Readers may be surprised to learn that La Femme wasn't always a cocktail maven. In fact, I didn't have my first drink until I was completely legal, on my 21st birthday in Victoria, Canada (I got wasted on two margaritas and almost got a tattoo,  luckily K talked me out of a tramp stamp).  But that wasn't my first time making a cocktail, oh no.  My one act of high school rebellion involved me making a White Russian for a classmate (who, obviously, influenced by the impeccable taste of The Dude wanted to try his favorite drink).  And while, I am not making a White Russian for you today, The Grashopper, its sweeter and richer cousin always makes me think of that day.  Don't worry Mom and Dad, I may have made the drink but my lips didn't touch it.


A Grasshopper is a drink I had heard of but never tried until one night K and I went to my favorite Seattle speakeasy Knee High Stocking Co.  I heard the bartender describe it as a Mint Chocolate Chip Ice Cream in drink form and I thought "I'm Interested!".  Anyone who knows La Femme knows that Mint Choclate Chip Ice Cream is my jam!  I would rather have it than almost any other dessert known to man.  And so, I tasted the forbidden fruit and loved it!  What I didn't love was the absolutely sinful amount of calories that I knew I was ingesting... even a cocktail aficionado has to watch her figure!

So, The Grasshopper became a special occasion kind of drink for me and Christmas is the perfect time to bust out that mint green treat.  No liquor has lasted me longer than the Creme de Menthe and White Creme de Cacao needed for this sweet concoction.  And the drink couldn't be easier to make with equal parts of those liquors and some heavy cream (it's Christmas, Indulge! We'll worry about fitting into our pants in January).  

The Grasshopper

1 oz White Creme de Cacao
1 oz Creme de Menthe
1 oz Heavy Cream

Mix all three ingredients in a cocktail shaker with lots of ice.  The Grasshopper must be served ice cold! Serve in a chilled martini glass.

If you ask me, this is an ideal Christmas Eve cocktail or Christmas Day dessert.  Enjoy!

Merry Christmas!

Julie

Wednesday, December 11, 2013

La Femme Recommends...Pitch Perfect


I know, I know,  another movie with musical numbers. I'm so sorry.  I can't help it.  In fact, I never planned on writing about Pitch Perfect, Jason Moore's 2012 debut, about a misfit group of a cappella singers competing in a college singing competition.  I never thought I'd write about it because I figured I'd eventually convince K to watch it and he would probably hate it and I'd probably love it because it was so bad, yet so much fun.  That isn't exactly how it happened.  K didn't hate it and it wasn't that bad at all, it was actually funny, engaging and charming!   So here it is, my completely expected recommendation of Pitch Perfect.

Pitch Perfect is fun, Pitch Perfect is silly, Pitch Perfect will make you laugh and dance in your seat.  It will remind you how great a song "No Diggity" really is. And in order to experience Pitch Perfect the way God intended it to be seen, you need to watch it with your preferred adult beverage in your hand for the entire 112 minute running time. Anna Kendrick is Becca, a college freshman (a la Beverly Hills 90210, every person in this films seems at least 25)  who is has a fantastic voice but has absolutely no interest in joining The Barden Bellas, the schools all female a cappella group. All she wants is to drop out of college and move to L.A. to become a D.J. but her professor dad makes her a deal; if she gives it her all her freshman year he will support her in L.A. the next year.  That leads her to reluctantly join the recently shamed and woefully out of touch Bellas.  They can't compete with the all male a cappella group, the Treble Makers, who are worshipped by everyone (in the a cappella community!).  Becca starts a tentative romance with one of the Trebles,  Jesse (Skylar Astin, who Girls fans will recognize and immediately say," OMG that is the guy who THAT to Shosh! " This is a family blog, Google it.) and learns to love and eventually lead the Barden Bellas . Sounds a little silly, obvious and cliche, right?


The surprise for me (and K, I have totally caught him watching Pitch Perfect on cable) was how cleverly Pitch Perfect took every expectation I had for the movie, and subverted it in in a silly, knowing but not too ironic way.  The movie is clever, cutting and even a little dirty at times.  Pitch Perfect manages to have the (pitch) perfect tone: irreverent but sincere.  Of course, I can't complete this review without mentioning the entire reason I watched the movie to begin with: the singing, duh.  And the musical numbers completely deliver, but as I was re- watching this movie to write this up, I was surprised at how caught up I got in the story and the other parts of the movie.  That isn't to say that the a cappella performances aren't the highlight of the film, they are.  They are a riot and executed with just the right amounts of grace and sass.

Anna Kendrick is generally not one of my favorite performers but she dialed her chipperness back just enough and the slightly cynical character tempered some of her cloying sweetness.  Skyler Astin was adorable, dorky and suave in the same moments (once I stopped picturing him with his face in Zosia Mamet's crotch) and I liked how his organic chemistry with Kendrick. The scene of them watching a movie together was surprisingly sexy and I loved the little moment at the end that echoes both The Breakfast Club (explicitly) and Singin' in the Rain (implicitly).  I'll admit it, Pitch Perfect kind of made me cry in that moment. Finally, Rebel Wilson as Fat Amy is my everything.

I will end with K's thoughts. As I was rewatching the movie for this post K was heading to law school and he said: "I better go or I'm going to start watching this and skip class".  That's quite an endorsement coming from a bitter, cynical, man.

Julie

P.S Pitch Perfect would be a great stocking stuffer K!

Sunday, November 10, 2013

It's Noon Somewhere…Sparkling Apple Rum Punch



It's the time of year that people either relish or dread: autumn.  The leaves are changing color, there is that lovely crisp feeling in the air, and the holidays are fast approaching. Summer is over, and we know that we won't get those long sunshine filled days until at least July.  I can't believe it is already mid-November, which means all my domestic goddesses out there will be prepping for their holiday parties that are just around the corner.  Now, you know I love a perfectly executed craft cocktail as much as the next person (well, probably much more), but, for party season, that just isn't practical. You can always do a sangria or stick with beer and wine, but I prefer to serve a cocktail before dinner, so a punch is a wonderful and inexpensive option.  And for punch, rum (surprise!) is the perfect base spirit.  It lends itself wonderfully to a wide range of juices, mixers, and flavors, but it still packs a lovely punch (see what I did there?).

We served this particular punch at our annual Halloween party, and it was a big hit, but I think it could be served all the way through to the new year.  Spiced Rum mixes nicely with the apple cider, and the lemon adds the needed acidity.  Simple syrup infused with thyme adds sweetness and depth of flavor, resulting in that little thing that makes you go, what is in this? Simple syrup is made with equal parts sugar and water, boiled until the sugar is dissolved.  In this case, you also place some thyme in the mixture to infuse the flavor in your simple syrup. 

This cocktail can be made ahead of time in a pitcher: just add the cider at the last minute to preserve the bubbles!  Get ready to live out your Mad Men fantasies by serving your guests out of a crystal pitcher  at your next party (a fancy apron is more than welcome!)

Sparkling Apple Rum Punch:

1 750 ml Spiced Rum
1/2 Cup Lemon Juice
1/3 Cup Thyme Simple Syrup
2 (12 oz) bottles of Sparkling Apple Cider


To make the thyme-infused simple syrup:

Boil 1 cup water and 1 cup sugar with a couple whole thyme sprigs until the sugar is dissolved.
Cool completely and remove thyme sprigs.

In a pitcher mix, all ingredients except the sparkling cider.  Add sparkling cider immediately before serving.  Garnish with thyme and an apple slice.

Enjoy!

Julie

Thursday, October 31, 2013

La Femme's Top Five Scary Movies

A list of top five scary movies from a person who hates horror movies and actively avoids is kind of an oxymoron, but here it goes... These are five movies that freak me out.



The only Leatherface I can bear to look at. 
1.  The Texas Chain Saw Massacre (Tobe Hooper, 1974):  Technically I have seen this movie the whole way through, but it was such a traumatic experience for me, I blocked it out and can only remember the vaguest of details.  No matter, I will not be watching this one again for this post!  The Texas Chain Saw Massacre is a typical horror film in its plot: a bunch of young people go into the country (one reason I don't live in the country) and despite all the warning signs (freaky people who work at a slaughterhouse telling you scary things, an abandoned house, etc.) they keep going and end up at one of the helpless youths old family home. I think you know what happens next.  Everything about Leatherface is freaking terrifying: from his mask to his slaughterhouse apron to his aforementioned chainsaw  (seriously, I made K put that picture up because there was no way I was google imaging this movie).  Leatherface, unlike a Freddy or Jason, seems more human - you see him stumbling about, lumbering, and that makes him even more unhinged and nightmarish. At times he seems frustrated, or sad, or upset and you can feel that energy.  Additionally, unlike so many slasher films, there is artistry in the horror and although the story is over the top, Hooper uses gritty and grimy colors and atmosphere to keep a level of realism that only enhances the terror.  A sense of dread pervades the film from the very first shot, when a terrifying voice tells you that this macabre tale is true.   I was on edge from that moment and could barely watch even through my fingers covering my face. Highlighting the terror of isolation in the country, where no one can help you and you don't know who you can trust, The Texas Chain Saw Massacre is truly one of the most intense movies every made.  Plus, the final shot is one of the best ever.

2.  Black Christmas (Bob Clarke, 1974) :  Bob Clarke directed A Christmas Story, one of the sweetest movies of all time.  He also directed Black Christmas, one of the scariest movies I have ever seen  (I only agreed to watch it because K told me it wasn't that scary.  I think he regrets that now when I force him to wake up in the middle of the night because I am freaked out).  The film takes place at a sorority house at Christmas time; the girls start getting heavy breathing phone calls from a mysterious caller, and soon one of them goes missing.  The voice on the other end of the phone starts off as a pervert moaning, but what really unnerved me was when the moaning turned to screaming and high pitched voices.  This is a more traditional slasher film, a "the calls are coming from inside the house" kind of story.  But even though you know from the very first call that the calls must be coming from inside the house, the movie is still able to build an incredible amount of suspense.   What I liked so much about this movie was the sense of dread and the fear of not being safe in your own home that the movie capitalizes on.  Just because the viewer knows the call is coming from upstairs doesn't mean the girls do, and Clarke uses the set to great advtange, setting it in an old Victorian home that at once seems cozy and creepy.  I also like the touches of the Christmas season, the supposedly happiest time of the year, which is also the darkest and can be the most lonely.  Black Christmas is a creepy little movie, that gets under your skin when you least expect it.

3.  Let the Right One In (Tomas Alfredson, 2008):  K and I saw this movie at the Seattle Film Festival, one warm June day.  Everything about the movie is creepy: the story, the characters and the setting.  Telling the story of a sad (and maybe a little creepy, he cuts out stories in the paper about grisly murders), bullied little boy Oskar growing up with a single mother in the suburbs of Stockholm, Sweden, who meets a new neighhbor, Elie, a little girl who isn't all that she seems, Let the Right One In puts a new spin on the vampire genre.  Oskar and Elie start a tentative friendship (she is only out at night, of course) while her mysterious guardian, Hakan, goes about trying to procure her some food.  The scene in which Hakan drains the blood of a victim is chilling and striking and while this movie doesn't have a lot of traditional scares, it has a lot of shocking and unsettling moments.  Let the Right One In is both a sweet love story between two misunderstood love story and the tale of a monster, who do anything she can to survive.  I think that Tomas Alfredson uses the darkness of the night and brightness of the ever present snow to great advantage, it is beautifully shot but incredibly isolating and creepy.  I am a sucker for subtle performances by children and  Kare Hedebrant and Lina Leandersson both do some amazing work.  Plus, that ending.  It's a shocker.  

4.  Dogville (Lars Von Trier, 2003):  Ok this is a weird one, I know, and an esoteric and art house choice (not unexpected by me, at all, right?)  but it is the only movie on this list that I watched and literally woke up later that night screaming.  Something in this movie touched a very deep nerve and I can't write a list of scary movies without including it.  I suppose this movie is about the fear of humanity, of what the base nature of people really is. Like so many horror films, the story is simple: Grace (Nicole Kidman) is on the run from the mob and ends up in the small town of Dogville.  The townspeople, at first, agree to help her in return for her helping out around the town.  Eventually she becomes a slave to everyone in the town, in every sense of the word.  Not one of the residents has any sympathy for her and when her father eventually tracks her down, the decision she makes will shock the viewer.  Director Lars Von Trier has never had a particularly rosy view of humanity (chaos reigns, anyone?) but Dogville is downright horrifying in its view of the world.  Von Trier also sets the film as a stage play, with the buildings of Dogville represented by chalk outlines on the ground.  Apparently, Von Trier had Kidman in tears nearly every day on set, but the raw vulnerability, anger, and fear she gives is overwhelmingly powerful.  Dogville may very well be the hardest movie to watch on this whole list, and perhaps even the scariest.

5.  The Omen (Richard Donner, 1976):  The Omen may not have jump scares, but it remains one of the creepiest movies I have ever seen.  Starring Gregory Peck as Robert Thorn, a man who realizes his son may be the spawn of the devil, The Omen is a story of biblical proportions about the lengths a father will go to defeat evil.  Despite not being religious at all, of all villains, the devil has always scared me the most.  The idea of an omnipotent evil presence that cannot be stopped is terrifying.  Thorn, a powerful diplomat, secretly arranges for the adoption of an orphan when his child dies at birth.  Once the adopted son Damien gets older, strange things start to happen, including his nanny hanging herself at his birthday party before ominously saying "It's all for you, Damien", which is possibly the most terrifying moment for me in the whole movie.  Thorn becomes more and more convinced his son is evil and he is powerless to stop him.  The movie may be a little campy and very much of its age, but it also builds dread and menace expertly.

Let the Right One In also happens to be on Netflix Streaming, so if you are looking for something scary to watch tonight, check it out!

Julie

Wednesday, October 30, 2013

La Femme in New England



Dartmouth College.
New England.  The very words bring to mind steeples, leaves, and the Kennedy's.  Old money families and seersuckers.  This is what I expected when K and I spent three days in rural New England this July. I found New England both to be exactly this and completely the opposite... it surprised and delighted me in the few days I was there and I can't wait to go back (hopefully when it isn't so freaking hot, how do all those people live with that humidity!) Oh yeah, and unlike all other trips we have taken, this one was for more than just pleasure.  It was to see K's younger sister ("KE") get married!!

Bartlett for America!!!

K and I wanted to savor all the Americana we could and vowed to visit a couple small towns in both New Hampshire and Vermont. Our first stop (right after getting off a red eye) was Manchester, New Hampshire.  We had plans to wander around the town and see the capital and then have a nice lunch.  That didn't really happen.  Instead we we strolled around for five whole minutes (and took some very important #jedbartlett hastagged instagrams).  We were both so tired from the red eye that we admitted defeat and headed to a late breakfast before heading up to Vermont.

The neighboring towns of Hanover, New Hampshire and Norwich, Vermont got more attention from us.  Hanover is like Main Street USA in Disneyland, with its J. Crew wearing townspeople and perfectly manicured Ivy League Campus of  Dartmouth College anchoring it.  The campus at Darmouth is idyllic and we got a tour from alumni, KE!  It was awesome to walk around and admire the beautiful old buildings, a cemetery and visit the old library. K and I had two lovely meals in this gorgeous, if slightly bougie town (which means I love it) and could have spent even more time relaxing in this little almost too perfect,  David Lynchian perfect place. We went to The Market Table for a pre wedding brunch (and mimosas, duh).  The Market Table is  kind of place I love to discover when traveling: bright, airy, and modern, with fresh, local food (and, just as importantly, a liquor license).   We also went to a basement tapas restaurant after the wedding for little snacks and more cocktails.  Norwich was even sweeter, just a few blocks of old churches, a town hall, a hotel, and a few shops and restaurants: they were even having the most charming, most charming weekend summer fair that I had ever seen, pure Americana: carnival games, rides and junk food!

Seriously. Is this real life??
Southern Vermont and New Hampshire can really only be described with superlatives about how lush, verdant, and fecund it is.  Rolling hills, pastoral fields, and magical forests are the norm.  And KE's home and the surrounding area was no exception. She and her husband live on what I, with my limited rural vocabulary, would call a farm, although it technically isn't as there aren't crops or livestock.  They live in a charming cabin-style home on a huge plot of land, replete with a pond and vegetable garden.  I couldn't stop taking pictures and exclaiming how beautiful and green and untouched the landscape was (you'd think I wasn't from the Evergreen State!)   After helping (and by helping, I mean I took pictures and K took a work call) them put up the tent for the wedding the next day, K and I and headed back to the hotel for pre-funk cocktails, and we later atteneded a lovely rehearsal dinner at KE's in-laws (where again I gawked at the greenery and wore completely unsensible shoes for the second time that day.) KE's friends and in-laws were so welcoming and friendly to us, and I loved getting to spend the evening talking to her and her fiancee ("E") and see a little slice of their lives.  K and I felt completely at ease as afternoon flowed into evening and we headed back in the darkest dark I had ever seen to our hotel (why the hell are there no street lights on the freeway??).
This is where KE lives.  Pond and barn and all!


A wedding is always a lovely and joyous occasion, but even more so when it is someone close to your or your family.  KE and E had a short but heartfelt ceremony, during which she wore her Mom's wedding dress altered from the typical 80's style to become a short, adorable dress, perfect for the rustic, sunny day. The mix of guests was refreshing, fun and eclectic: you had the formal bridesmaids, the guy in a kilt, people in jeans and suits and everything in between.  There was even a couple of people channeling my East Coast preppy fantasy, who K and I nicknamed Chet and Brock!  I, of course, dressed flashy and nouveau riche, as Simon Doonan would say, but what was so great was the come-as-you-are attitude of everyone there; it didn't matter if you were in a suit or a cowboy hat, everyone was there to have fun and celebrate the happy couple.  It was romantic, silly, and a truly low key day. KE was the happiest and most stress-free bride I have ever seen and her happiness radiated throughout her whole family. We celebrated with BBQ, salads, and a whole roasted pig (!), not to mention some killer sangria. K's grandma sat at our table like a regular Joan Crawford, with huge sunglasses and wearing all black.  She only drinks sparkling wine and had a special bottle all for herself which she didn't want to share with anyone!  Readers, I wanted to get a picture for you, but I couldn't figure out how to get it without her knowing.  She was fabulous and basically my idol.   After a long, leisurely afternoon (once people started jumping in the pond, I knew it was time for us to go before K did the same thing in his suit… he did have a lot of beer!). K and I headed back to Hanover for a late dinner at the above mentioned tapas bar before crashing at the hotel (and discovering Hollywood Game Night, the best show to watch while drinking EVER!).

I am already planning my outfits (think New England prep meets Jackie Kennedy meets English countryside realness) for a future trip to see the landscape turned orange and red in the fall.  I can't wait.

Julie

Friday, September 27, 2013

It's Noon Somewhere...The Heisenberg


Sunday is the finale of Breaking Bad.  I have a complicated relationship with this show.  K and I are very bad telly watchers,  it took us about 2 years to watch The Wire and now we are slowly making it through The West Wing.  When I watch TV alone, I like to watch trashy stuff like ALL of the Real Housewives and anything else on Bravo (I love you, Andy Cohen!).  But K only likes to watch one show at a time.  After we finished The Wire, we decided to watch Breaking Bad, but K didn't really dig the first season.  I did, so I watched it alone and now we are watching the final season together (K can't stand not to be part of the zeitgeist!).  I think that Walt is a fantastic, fascinating character.  But I find many of the other characters less fleshed out and a little one note.  However, the plot twists and turns are riveting and perfectly paced and I think most of the scripts are pretty solid.  Overall, I like it but I can't say that I love it.   It is a fun and good show, but I can't get behind the people that call it the best show EVER; I don't think it has enough to say and the rewatchability isn't there for me.  That said, I am excited for the finale and can't wait to see how it all turns out.



Since I love a good themed drink.  I wanted to make a blue drink for the finale in homage to Walt's best creation / worst enemy, his blue meth, and his best creation / worst enemy, his alter ego, Heisenberg.  This is basically a tiki drink thrown in a martini glass, and while it may not be a craft cocktail, it is tasty, fruity, and a little addictive (probably like the blue meth?).  K and I actually served this drink at our wedding under the name Midnight Liaison since we did signature drinks representing Something Old, Something New, Something Borrowed, Something Blue.  Enjoy this fruity, cheap and cheerful cocktail on Sunday Night!

The Heisenberg

1 part blue curaco
1 part orange liqueur
4 parts lemonade
1/2 lime

Mix together in a shaker with ice.  Garnish with a lime or if you are feeling extra fun some blue rock crystal candy!

Drink too many of these and you just might break bad yourself.

Julie

La Femme Recommends...Behind the Candelabra

I even Instagrammed it!
Behind the Candelabra is supposedly Steven Soderbergh's final film.  On the one hand, that's a damn shame, because he is a consistently interesting, journeyman filmmaker; on the other hand, this is a great way to go out, with a film filled with energy, verve, and drama.   It is a political drama, a love story, and a biopic all rolled up into one with a really sparkly facade.  It was the most fun I've had watching a movie all year, and I don't think it will be exceeded anytime soon.  K and I had a little two person party full of champagne, fondue, and gold sparkly turbans (well, just me with the turban) to celebrate Liberace in the proper setting! I giggled at the beginning but soon found myself engrossed in the human drama that Soderbergh and his actors created before me.

Who wouldn't want to have a hot tub in their bedroom?



Also, can I have a sparkly piano?

Michael Douglas takes center stage as Liberace (or Lee, as he prefers to be called).  Before watching this movie, I had some idea of who Liberace was, but my knowledge was mostly that he played the piano, wore ridiculous costumes, and was completely in the closet.  Douglas takes this colloquial caricature of Liberace and both plays it up and tears it down: his Lee is vain, audacious, gaudy, and can be terribly cruel and jealous, but he is also generous, fun, and caring.  Douglas provides what one always wants in a biopic subject, as he becomes the character, makes him full and well rounded. We don't have to compare Douglas's Liberace to the real person because, in the world of the film, he is Liberace.  Damon is just as good in the more thankless role of Scott Thorson, who meets Liberace by chance and is easily seduced by the furs, jewels, and excesses of Lee's life.  Damon does seem a little old to play this role, especially in the beginning of the film, but he is nevertheless able to exude the youth and playfulness that the role demands.  Additionally, the supporting cast is filled with those great little characters you expect from a Soderbergh film: Rob Lowe looking pulled and tucked and unrecognizable as Lee's plastic surgeon who hooks Thorson on diet pills (a.k.a speed), Dan Akroyd as Liberace's manager, Scott Bakula as Thorson's friend who introduces him to Lee, Cheyenne Jackson as Liberace's protege Bobby who is replaced by Scott, and Scott Ramsay as house boy (yes, that is exactly what you think it is, a manservant in booty shorts), Carlucci.  Both Jackson and XXX give great, nearly wordless performances, providing their manic highs and depressive lows simply with their faces (amazing scorn and side eye) and bodies (have you seen Carlucci's booty!).


In a lot of ways, this is a story that we have seen so many times in Hollywood, both in films and in real life couplings.  A young, beautiful creature is seduced by an older, successful entertainer. Typically, the balance of power in these kinds of relationships is split between the younger person using their body to entrance the older partner, and the older one using their money and lifestyle to keep the younger person around.  And usually that relationship ends in marriage, and, even if the younger person is replaced with a shiny, newer model, we see them getting some kind of security because of the marriage and we see the older character miserable because fame is ultimately empty, and so and and so on.  Behind the Candelabra plays out in that way too with one big caveat, because they men (one very much in the closet to his female fans), those options aren't open to them.  No matter how much they care for each other and how open they are in their own community, their relationship is always one behind closed doors or with Scott pretending to be someone else.  Lee hires Thorson as his assistant and pays him to come on stage with him, his fans think he is an employee and nothing more. They can't go out to clubs and restaurants like a normal couple so they spend all their time at home; which eventually causes their relationship to rot. We see how much Scott means to Lee, how much he really does love him, and the sad and ridiculous way he tries to legitimize their relationship to the rest of the world;  he buys him a house and puts it in Scott's name, he pays him an allowance (he also asks him to get plastic surgery so they can look more alike),  and even tries to adopt him in order to give their relationship some kind of legal status. But ultimately he can't do anything more, and when he is done with Scott he throws him out and Scott has no recourse, he loses the life he loved, just like that.   Behind the Candelabra is a trifle in many ways, reveling in the luxurious lifestyle of house boys, hot tubs, and garish gold everything, but it is also makes a subtle political statement about marriage equality and the necessity of it for the betterment of our society.

As Liberace liked to say, "Too much of a good thing is wonderful".  I could have saved a lot of time by just writing that about Behind the Candelabra.  I hope it is on HBO again right now.

Julie


Wednesday, September 18, 2013

It's Noon Somewhere...Mexican Madras



Lopez Island, Washington in the beautiful San Juan Islands is my family's summer getaway. I love it for its simplicity, amazing vistas, and solitude.  But I have to admit, this year I was dreaming of the preppy and oh so affluent Cape Cod.  The San Juans may be (as heard on the ferry over) "Washington's Cape Cod", but Lopez would be the hippie outcast of a WASPY family of capitalist, old money pigs.  To Cape Cod's Madras and Lobster Rolls, Lopez has flannel and vegan muffins.  But Lopez certainly has its own brand of folksy charm, from the village punctuated by Isabel's, the small cafe and quasi-book store that could almost be a parody of a coffee shop, to the friendly yet slightly wary clerks at the grocery store (which closes at 8:00); Lopez is a great destination to get away from it all.  Lopez may not be a haven of sophistication like Martha's Vineyard, but it is where my family goes to relax, along with the aging hippies of Washington State.  And, more importantly, it is a safe place we go to get really drunk and sit by the fire and throw things in it (in the past, my uncle has thrown his shoes in. This year it was an ice cream spoon), watch bad and/or silly movies, eat junk food, and generally make fools of ourselves.

This may have been the best sunset I've ever seen.


Not even that drunk, YET!
We play board games, go to the Farmer's Market and the tiny Village, make the annual trek to Friday Harbor (the big city of the San Juan's! Ha!) via ferry and wait for the late afternoon when it is socially acceptable to start drinking.  Not counting cocktails, wine, or beer with lunch and maybe a beer or cider (or let's be honest, A Mike's Hard Lemonade for me) in the afternoon, of course.  At night, after dinner, which is always a bit of a team effort and always tasty (although I definitely missed my brother's great cooking this year - he is in Philly for grad school and missed out), we break up into groups, usually with some of us outside by the fire and some of us inside watching movies or playing cards.  It is peaceful and restful and absolutely beautiful and I treasure the time away, even if I do sleep in a bunk bed or on a prison mattress.  Every year I look forward to the three or four days we spend in that grubby little house by the beach.  But enough of that, onto the cocktail!

K and I try to bring simple, easy cocktails that can be thrown together in the "charming" house we stay in (and by charming I mean kind of slightly gross... did I mention the prison mattress!?).  This year, because of my wish to bring a little bit of Cape Cod to Lopez, K and I made Cape Codders: Vodka, cranberry, lime; and Bay Breezes, made by just adding pineapple juice.  Simple and refreshing, and truth be told, not that big of a hit with anyone.  Neither K nor I are great lovers of vodka-based cocktails, but we thought they would be easy and fun.  So when we came home, I still wanted something fruity and different, but with a little bit more flavor and kick.  Hence the Mexican Madras adapted from the Ultimate Bar Book.  It substitutes tequila for the vodka and adds fresh squeezed orange juice to the cranberry and lime in the Cape Codder.  And I think it is a perfect blend of the sophistication of Cape Cod and the fun, silly Lopez vibe K and I love so much.  I think next year, this one will definitely be a big hit!

A little slice of Lopez (via Mexico and Cape Cod).


Mexican Madras:

2 oz tequila
3 oz cranberry juice
Juice of 1 orange (or about 1 oz)
Juice of 1 lime

Shake all together.  Serve on the rocks, I prefer crushed ice with this cocktail.  It gives it an extra cold and extra fun edge. Garnish with a slice of orange.

Cheers!

Julie

Monday, September 2, 2013

La Femme's Movie Marathon...It Sucks to Be British Part 2


Nil by Mouth (Gary Oldman 1997), : Every marathon inevitably has a clunker: a movie that sounds good on paper, but on execution falls short.  Nil by Mouth was the clunker of this marathon: a decent, if typical, portrait of lower class Londoners. The kind that drink too much, swear too much and live permanently on the dole. Ray Winstone and Kathy Burke impress as Ray and Val, a perfectly miserable couple whose relationship goes from bad to worse.  Winstone is angry, violent, emotional and despicable as a man who doesn't know any other way to show love than by using his very strong fists. Burke shows incredible strength as Val, a woman finally deciding to take control of her own life and stand up for herself and her children against Ray's violent behavior.  A portrait of contemporary London, Nil by Mouth portrays the world these characters live in and has an organic feel, showing the entire counsel estate, the laundromat that the men hang out at, to the old fashioned night club the whole family goes to on a special night.  Gary Oldman directed the film and while he doesn't have the cinematic verve of a Terrence Davies, Shane Meadows or Lynne Ramsey, he had a gritty realism that didn't seem put on.  I also liked the spheres of
men and women that Oldman portrays, the separate solace they give one another. We see the deep friendship between Winstone and Mark (Jamie Foreman), they can be at the pub together, telling big fish stories (or more accurately, "remember that time I got stabbed" stories), and know that your best mate would never contradict you.  More importantly, when Ray has no where to go and has reached his lowest point, his mate is the only person who he can confide in without fear of being seen as weak (which for a man like Ray is the biggest fear he has).  And as for Val, we see how she can only truly let her guard down and feel secure with the other women in her life, the generations of women who have endured the same life. Unfortunately, in the end, the film wallows too much in the doldrums of working class life and never illuminates the characters in any more than a trivial way.

My Name is Joe (Ken Loach, 1998):  Full Disclosure, we needed subtitles for Ken Loach's portrait of an unemployed recovering alcoholic (Peter Mullan) trying to stay sober in Glasgow.  Peter Mullan is subtle and powerful as Joe, in a role that could have been large and overpowering, he plays it quiet and as a fully realized character.  For a film about alcoholism, Joe is much more than an alcoholic.  Loach uses his typical realist style and the story is straightforward yet sensitively told.  The relationship between Joe and Sarah is realistic and sweetly romantic.  We know the inevitable moment of Joe's relapse is coming and Mullan and Loach play it without too much dramatic effect (well, in that moment.  The moment that comes next is so over the top that it seems extremely out of place in this film).  To be quite frank, all of us had a terrible time understanding the very thick Scottish accents so I can't say too much more, since a lot of our viewing was spent saying, "what did he say?". There was no subtitles on our version so we missed a lot unfortunately (especially K, who fell asleep).  Joe begins a tentative relationship with a social worker, Sarah (Louise Goodall, also wonderful) and tries to help out his young friend (David McKay) who has gotten in trouble with some criminals.



Ratcatcher (Lynne Ramsay, 1999):  Lynne Ramsay's debut film, Ratcatcher was the discovery of the marathon.  Dreamlike, captivating and tragic, Ratcatcher follows James, a twelve year old boy,  and his family in 1973 Glasgow.  The garbage men are striking and they live in half deserted counsel houses without running water, waiting to be re-homed to new houses outside that city that James visits as a respite to his monotonous.  The film opens with the death by drowning of one of James' friends, a death James witnesses (and perhaps contributes to in a small way).  James father is typical of British film, a drunken, abusive boar and his mother is the strict, yet loving, hold it all together type.  Ramsay does well to tell this story through a child's eyes because the world James lives in is so depressing and so grimy and disgusting that if we didn't see it through the relative joy of a child, the movie would be unbearably sad (and it nearly is anyway).  The tone of the film is so remarkable, for an example, one of the children in the flats is a little boy named Kenny who is slightly developmentally disabled and loves animals.  He has his own little menagerie in his flat.
James, is on the outskirts of a group of older bad boys and when Kenny comes out in the courtyard with his new mouse, we see the boys take it and start to throw it and tell Kenny that his mouse can fly.  The tension is incredible as we watch this little mouse fly through the air and hope it doesn't land splat.   Finally, he gets it back  and under the impression that it can fly, ties a balloon to the poor mouses tail and sends it to the moon.  What should be a sad moment turns to delight and whimsy as we follow this mouse all the way to the moon and see him there with all his mouse friends that have made this perilous journey.  It is a moment of levity and wit that prevents this film from becoming misery porn like some of the other films we have seen in this marathon.  Ramsay's use of the camera is assured and stylish without being over the top and her cinematography is dark and menacing, punctuated by moments of pure, unadulaterated beauty (for example, the stunning shots of James visiting the new homes that face open fields of golden wheat). Ratcatcher is emotionally draining yes, but cinematically life affirming.


Ultimately, I enjoyed this little slice of Britain that we discovered on this marathon.  It very well may suck to be British, which all of these films showed, but there is something wonderful in the dignity, pride and humor of the lower middle class.  Maybe its not so bad after all (not that I want to find out!).

Julie



Friday, August 16, 2013

La Femme's Essentials...Hedwig and the Angry Inch

Today is the debut of yet another new feature, La Femme's Essentials, in which I am going to discuss some of my favorite films.

How do you begin to write about one of the essential experiences of your life?  One of the pieces of art that has made the most impact on your outlook on love?   Something that you love unabashedly and truly? One of the films that started your long journey to becoming a cinephile?  And, mostly, how do you write about that important thing without becoming so hyperbolic that it borders on ridiculous?

I first saw Hedwig and the Angry Inch shortly after K and I begin dating in 2001(!)  and I was immediately enraptured.  I remember it almost like it was in a dream, watching the film for the first time in my parents' living room shortly after K and I started dating (in some ways, I think this is how I knew he was the man I would marry: he liked it too. In fact, unlike so many 18 year old guys who would be turned off by the story of a German transsexual wanna-be rock star, I think K realized the genius of the film more than I did.  He appreciated the art of it, while I was in love with the music and the style.  I am smarter than him, but when it comes to film he is smarter than me.  Don't tell him that I said that.).  Since then, I have seen the film multiple times in theaters and countless times on DVDs.  My e-mail is a reference to Hedwig (and I won't change it even when I get funny looks when I tell people it). My brother and I saw Sing a Long Hedwig a few years ago and my face hurt from smiling after.  I have my own Hedwig promotion wig (which K won for me in an Internet contest, told you he was a keeper). My only regret at K and my wedding is that I didn't work harder to find a performer to sing a song from the film.  It makes me smile, it makes me cry and I could watch it again in a heartbeat.




Hedwig and the Angry Inch is the humble story of Hedwig (nee Hansel) Schmidt, who falls in love with an American G.I., Luther, before the fall of the Berlin Wall, and in order to gain his freedom, unwittingly becomes a transsexual, Hedwig.  Unfortunately, the operation is botched and Hedwig still has an angry inch (I will let the reader figure out what that means).  After living in Junction City, Kansas, and losing her husband, Luther (for a young boy who looks not unlike Hansel), she meets Tommy Gnosis (nee Speck), a pimply, bible thumping teenager, who Hedwig inevitably falls in love with and is able to mold into the rock star she will never be (Michael Pitt).

Hedwig is first and foremost a musical and nearly every song nails it.  The style of the music is a mix of glam rock, punk, country and good old musical theatre. Every song in the film has a different and joyful feel, from the sing-a-long celebration of "Wig in a Box" (see the clip above) to the dirty country ditty, "Sugar Daddy", to the unabashed glam rock anthem of "Midnight Radio"; each song fits the emotion of the scene perfectly. John Cameron Mitchell and Stephen Trask portray every emotion and thought Hedwig has in musical form.  Unlike so many musicals, most of the songs are able to stand on their own without context, closer to pop songs than to songs traditionally for musicals.   The centerpiece of the film both musically and emotionally is the "Origin of Love", a rambling, story song, that shows and tells the viewer Hedwig's entire outlook on love, and her hope for what it means for her.  Mitchell employs beautiful, hand drawn animation during the entire scene and juxtaposes that with Hedwig's face.  The song is heartbreaking and life affirming all at once and John Cameron Mitchell's strange, androgynous, but strong voice make me tear up every time. I dare you to listen to it and not cry.

Arguably, John Cameron Mitchell is the entire film.  He wrote, directed and starred in it.  His performance is immersive and moving, and his charisma radiates from the screen.   John Cameron Mitchell seamlessly goes from Hansel to Hedwig, playing a man and a woman easily, but more than that he plays them as both the same and different people.  Hansel is young, foolish and naive.  Hedwig is jaded, a little sadder but confident and maybe even egotistical.  John Cameron Mitchell also directed the film and it is an impressive debut, he is inventive and playful with his techniques, from the animation and bouncing ball Sing-A-Long and the trailer that turns into a stage.  But he also finds the emotional core of Hedwig and finds illuminates deep emotional moments, from the quiet reveal of Tommy seeing Hedwig perform the first time, to the visceral gut punch the moment Tommy discovers Hedwig's secret.  This isn't the work of an actor/director, it is an auteur's debut. I would be remiss if I didn't mention that Michael Pitt is wonderful as Tommy, I know some people (you know who you are!) find him to be a terrible and wooden actor, but in this role he is lovely.  He might not be the most charismatic actor, but his sincerity lights him up and he has a look of wonder when he sees Hedwig, which is exactly what the character needs.  All you need with that performance is to see why Hedwig falls for him, and he gives that and more.

Hedwig and the Angry Inch has so much meaning for me not only because it is a wonderful, silly, glittery movie that combines great film making with music and romance and sequins, but the message is universal and uplifting.  Hedwig spends the entire movie searching for her other half but in the end discovers that only she can make herself whole.  This is a message that we have heard so many times, often times in a completely cliche and teeth numbingly sweet way.  That is the genius of Hedwig: it's irreverent and dirty but with a heart of gold, delivering an inspiring message to any kind of person that watches the film, without betraying the tone of the overall piece.  For this post, I went and read reviews of Hedwig from when the film came out, and all the reviews pegged it as a "gay" movie (most of them were positive). Hedwig is absolutely a pinnacle of LGBT cinema and a groundbreaking film in the genre precisely because Hedwig's sexuality/gender is part of the story, but not the whole story. The problem with labeling Hedwig ONLY LGBT or queer cinema is that it excludes  a lot of viewers who might love the film but hear that label and think, "this isn't for me".  But in my mind (and for a fact, I know Mitchell's too)  Hedwig is for everyone, for anyone who has ever felt different or uncomfortable in their own skin, or like they don't belong, which is really all of us.  The universality of this strange little movie about this strange little person is the ultimate lesson of Hedwig and the Angry Inch.  We are all the same, we are all searching for something and ultimately we all need to look into ourselves to find it.

Julie

Thursday, August 8, 2013

It's Noon Somewhere...St. Germain Sangria


It has been an amazing summer in Seattle this year.  We have had perfect weather;  not too hot but sunny almost every day, and let me tell you we deserve it with all the grey days we get the rest of the year.  In fact, I might argue that Seattle has the best summers of any place I've ever been, no humidity, a lovely breeze and amazing views.  And in our house, summer usually means new and refreshing cocktails, but I have to admit this summer K and I haven't been very adventurous and I have been slacking in the cocktail department, instead relying on some old favorites that I've already shared on the blog.

But, I have been making some great sangrias (and not taking any pictures of them!) so I thought I'd share one.  St. Germain is a lovely liqueur made of elderflowers.  It is also super expensive and frenchy, so you know I love it.  But since K and I just bought a house, I have to save my pennies and can't splurge on any expensive liqueurs (is life even worth living!?).   Therefore, I channeled my inner Sandra Lee (Money Saving Meals!) and bought two little bottles from the liquor store, so you only need about 4 oz of St. Germain, so it isn't too big of an investment.  The St. Germain is such a rich and layered flavor that it added that little extra bit of class to this sangria, and frenched it up!


St. Germain has a unique and slightly sweet taste, and a little goes a long way.  It is great as a float with sparkling wine, so I thought why not with wine and fruit?  I wanted to make a sparkling sangria, so I added some tonic water right at the end to give it some fizz.  I only bought two little bottles from the liquor store, so you only need about 4 oz of St. Germain, but it really adds a distinct level of flavor to this sangria.

St. Germain Sangria

4 oz St. Germain
1 bottle of dry white wine


2 peaches
2 limes
1orange
Tonic Water

Slice all the fruit and feel free to add any other kinds you like, cherries would be lovely (I am a citrus freak so I like lots of acid in my sangria)!  Add the wine and the St. Germain.  Let sit for a few hours in the fridge and top with tonic water or club soda.  Garnish with fruit!

Cheers!

Julie

Wednesday, July 24, 2013

La Femme Defends...Mommie Dearest

In an effort to expand my critical writing skills, I am going to be trying out some new things on the blog in the next few weeks.  This new column that I am calling La Femme Defends is a forum for defending my opinions on films that may be contrary to the popular critical response, either positive or negative.  We'll see how it goes!




Love this. So glamorous!
Mommie Dearest is a camp classic, loved by the girls and the gays.  Maligned as high camp and nothing more, I have gone to a Mommie Dearest Quote-a-Long and had a great time screaming and dying with laughter along with the more ridiculous lines (they even gave us wire hangers to shake, which we did, with great excitement as soon as the infamous scene began), but the more I have thought about it, the more I think Mommie Dearest is not only camp, but a film to be gently praised.  I don't want to downplay the incredible watchability of the film nor the craziness of it; in fact my family watched it together at our vacation home in the San Juans and everyone howled with laughter, but the more I have watched the movie, the more I think it has merits beyond campy fun. I really don't believe in "so bad it's good." because to me if a movie is enjoyable on any level, the filmmaker must have succeeded in some other aspect, no matter how miniscule. In fact, I would argue that if a film gives you pleasure then it automatically has merit.  Mommie Dearest is one of those films, its strengths go beyond the fun of the film.  I wouldn't go so far to say that Mommie Dearest is a masterpiece or the best film of the 1980's but I do think its good qualities have been overshadowed by the whole No Wire Hangers shenanigans.  I am here to argue, much like the great John Waters before me, that in fact Mommie Dearest is a melodrama like so many of Joan Crawford's film and that Faye Dunaway's central performance is much more nuanced than it may seem at first glance.

Matching hats, anyone?
Frank Perry directed Mommie Dearest in 1981 and the film was not meant as the camp classic it is regarded as (in fact, that may be part of the problem, I think they took the source material much too seriously in thinking they were making a FILM).   Based on Christina Crawford's tell all  memoir about her adopted mother, Joan Crawford;  on the surface, Mommie Dearest paints Joan as the worst mother ever, an uncaring woman who adopted her two children for publicity.  But it also paints her as an extremely ambitious woman in a world of men, a woman who is unable to find happiness, a perfectionist, and an ultimately tragic figure.  I think the melodrama of the picture can't be denied (I don't mean this in a bad way, melodrama isn't a bad word to me) but aside from the few truly crazy scenes (see the destruction of the rose tree and the wire hanger meltdown in particular), I find the childhood Christina experiences to be harrowing and brutal.  From the scene where her mother forces her to compete in a swimming to pool race, to Joan finding her impersonating her in the mirror and cutting all of Christina's hair off,  to the incident that causes her to be sent to boarding school (she knowingly scares off one of her mothers suitors by bringing Joan a full glass of vodka!), the mother-daughter conflict is real and at times heartbreaking.  The competition both of them feel (and that Joan has to feel because of her career) is intensely palpable and as Christina gets older that aspect becomes both more acute and bizarre.  Joan is a terrible mother in a lot of ways, she pushes her children too far, expects perfection in them and has no patience, but we begin to see the same manipulation and ambition in Christina.  After watching Mommie Dearest with an open mind, I honestly can't see how anyone could feel anything but extreme sympathy both for Christina and Joan. Throughout the film we see just how broken this family is and what havoc ambition, greed and power can breed.

I do this every morning. 
Faye Dunaway famously won't speak of her role as Joan Crawford, which is a shame because whatever you think about her performance, I don't think you can say she didn't succeed in the role.  Dunaway's performance is in the vein of big performances, which I admit I have a soft spot for.  But I believe that  if we are going to praise Jack Nicholson's crazy face in The Shining or Al Pacino's ridiculous accent in Scarface, Dunaway should be credited as giving the same kind of performance, part pantomime, part deeply felt emotion.  Dunaway's performance is bigger than life, yes, but the character of Joan calls for that, because she is always performing for everyone else in her life.  But Dunaway also gives the character some nuance.  The script is definitely an example of tell instead of show and Dunaway has quite a few choice lines (some might call them clinkers) but she delivers them with an extreme level of commitment.  In fact, I think the performance is actually a spot on portrayal of Crawford, she shows the rage boiling beneath the surface in every scene and how Crawford mastered the art of manipulation with every single person in her life. Unlike so many camp classics, Mommie Dearest is competently directed, in fact I would say that the biggest failing of the film is the script, which is so on the nose and expository (Good night. Good Luck. Goodbye.  is one of my favorites, terrible delivery and terrible line).  But director Frank Perry is not that much of a hack, in fact, some of the shots in the film are very similar to some of Crawford's most famous films and the style of the film is of a woman's film, the kind that Crawford herself starred in.  The costumes are fun and the sets are actually pretty great, with some great attention to detail.

Yep, I do!

This may be my favorite HBIC moment ever
Now after three paragraphs of praise, lets get down to brass tacks about Mommie Dearest.  Everything I said above is absolutely true but I also love the film because it is silly, soapy, crazy Hollywood melodrama.  I love that I can go to a movie and scream "NO WIRE HANGERS" and "Don't f**k with me fellas.  This ain't my first time at the rodeo" and cackle when Faye Dunaway yells "Tear down that bitch of a bearing wall and put a window where it ought to be" (or my brother and my personal favorite line, "I should have known you'd know where to find the boys and the booze").  I love that Mommie Dearest is still beloved by so many people, even if I don't always agree with their reasons.  Mommie Dearest isn't a great movie, in fact, it is probably the worst that I have recommended on this blog.  But there is something more to it than "its so bad, it's good".  For a certain kind of person (and I include myself in this) Mommie Dearest can be a transcendent experience, giving the viewer the purest form of enteraintment that a movie can, pure pleasure.  When I watch Mommie Dearest whether it is on my couch after discovering it on television on a Sunday afternoon (Sorry, K), watching it at Lopez Island with my whole family (sorry, K) or seeing it in Quote -A- Long with a bunch of fellow fans, I am able to flee any stresses I feel and spend two hours, laughing, smiling and feeling pure bliss.  This is what the movies are supposed to give us, how can we say anything that gives us this feeling is bad?

Oh yeah, and I better not see any f*##ing wire hangers in my closet.  EVER.

Julie

Tuesday, July 2, 2013

It's Noon Somewhere...New Orleans Edition


Bar Tonique

A few weeks ago, I waxed poetically about the squalor and splendor of that great American city, New Orleans.  Diligent readers may have noticed I barely even mentioned cocktails, bars, etc, which for me is unusual.  K and I were not teetotalers on this trip (ha!); instead I wanted to do a very special It's Twelve O'clock Somewhere Edition in honor of my favorite cocktails, drinking establishments, and liquor related entertainment that  New Orleans has to offer.  Below is my humble Top Five New Orleans Cocktail moments.

San Francisco Pisco Punch
1.  Bar Tonique: On our second night at this amazing bar right outside the French Quarter, I looked at K and said "Can you have a local if you don't live somewhere?".  Bar Tonique is exactly the kind of bar I love: craft cocktails in a laid back, almost dive bar environment.  Now, I don't mean that Bar Tonique is run down (anymore than anywhere else in New Orleans).  I just mean that Bar Tonique is cozy, unpretentious and has that vibe that maybe you should order a beer or the dreaded and boring vodka cranberry and gamble on the electronic machines.  Only, you shouldn't because they specialize in classic cocktails of every ilk.  I had a couple great Mai Tais, a Jack Rose (that is how I know a bar is good, if they can make this obscure drink) and K had a lot of Sazeracs.  We went there three times in our week there and were treated wonderfully by the staff and other patrons, locals and tourists, many of whom had been to New Orleans before and also discovered this great little place.



2. Sazerac Bar: The Sazerac Bar is your quintessential hotel bar: masculine, dark, wood filled and with waiters in white vests.  Located in the beautiful Roosevelt Hotel (also home to John Besh's Domenica, which was fantastic!  Who says you can't have Italian food in New Orleans?), this venerable institution was one of the stops K and I had to make on our bar crawl.  Now, I don't just like it because our bartender was a major hottie: what can I say, I like bearded, cocky, mixologists who think they are exceedingly clever (sound like anyone, K?).  K and I had a great time watching this Tom Cruise-in-Cocktail-wannabe, pouring drinks, throwing shakers and giving himself props for a job well done.  I enjoyed my only authentic Hurricane of the trip, a New Orleans Classic that if done wrong is a fruity, sugary nightmare.  Instead of that high fructose corn syrup concoction, I enjoyed fresh squeezed juices and a cornucopia of garnishes.  The Sazerac Bar is definitely not easy on your wallet, but it is a relaxing, swanky place to enjoy quality cocktails surrounded by business men and women who look like they may be auditioning for The Real Housewives of New Orleans (aka, my idols).

3. Frozen Daiquiris:  Speaking of high fructose corn syrup concoctions, K and I knew we had to try the New Orleans Daiquiris after seeing it on Anthony Bourdain's show, The Layover.  We even took the St. Charles Streetcar out to the biggest outpost that was featured on the show and then walked around Audobon Park with our cocktails in the middle of the afternoon (NOLA knows how to do it right!)  Frozen Daiquiris are exactly what they sound like, fruity slurpees with liquor, they have tons of flavors, it is a slushee lovers paradise!  Sugar bombs, so many calories you don't even want to think about it (calories don't count on vacation, right?), frozen daiquiris are the perfect vacation treat, sinful, frivolous and a lot of fun.  K and I enjoyed more than one of these (ok, lots) during our stay and usually ended our night walking around the city with them, well we dashed to Bourbon Streetn to buy them and then ran off to the more peaceful areas to sip them and talk.  Plus, they usually give you a free shot when you buy one (also sugar bombs!) and who can resist that? When in New Orleans, let loose a little and enjoy something as sinfully ridiculous as a frozen daiquiri (as an aficionado I would recommend the Peach Bellini variety).

4. Carousel Bar:  Yes, it is incredibly crowded.  No, we couldn't even get a seat in the famous bar that looks like a carousel (and turns around every fifteen minutes).  But you have to do it if you are in New Orleans.  K and I went on our bar crawl on Saturday night and we started out at this venerable place.  The bar is very large and we did manage to get one of the last seats, so going early isn't a bad idea.  Honestly, I think it is a pretty typical hotel bar, one that is crawling with tourists of every ilk: classy and trashy (see the tourists next to us, who wanted to talk to me about their cat, Sammy Hagar).  K's favorite part is that they gave you free snack mix, although I made him stop eating it after four bowls (they were pretty small, but still!) because I worried he was verging into the latter category.  I enjoyed a Brazilian Sparkle which had rum, pineapple juice and lime topped with club soda (I would have preferred sparkling wine!) and K had the first of many Sazerac's that night.  I will definitely go back again, if only to get a ride on that silly carousel.

5. New Orleans Rum Distillery: K and my travel style is generally pretty relaxed.  We are more about wandering and stopping for lunch (and drinks) than breakneck museum hopping.  But we do like to mix in our wandering with the city with guided tours.  We have done bike tours, swamp tours and in New Orleans we took a cab out to the New Orleans Rum Distillery to learn how to make rum (very dangerous for a rum lover like me).  The tour was interesting, informative and brief. But the best part was the welcome cocktail and the final shots of all of the rum they offer (including, light rum, dark rum, cajun spiced rum and their own ginger liquor)!  K and I loved the Cajun Spiced Rum and picked up a bottle.  It makes a killer rum sour and we are going to stock up again soon.  I love reliving the memories of a place by having something at home that you were able to enjoy on the trip, and that Cajun Spiced Rum brings us back to that week in March where time had no meaning and it was always Twelve O'Clock.

Julie