I went on a little trip last week through New Mexico, down to El Paso to visit my parents. The three best things I ate were these chilaquiles with green chile and poached eggs at Tia's, the restaurant in our hotel:
And these blue corn enchiladas, Christmas-style (half red, half green) at Casa Chimayo:
And grilled steak off my parents' grill with garden tomatoes, garden chard, and fried potatoes.
We finished off the meal with a champagne toast. Because I recently got married, and my mom recently won a $25,000 teaching award (which kind of trumps the marriage, really).
Sitting in their kitchen, I learned that John doesn't like Audrey Hepburn. He finds her to be intolerably precious, and not a good actress. The preciousness, okay, but her acting seems rather beside the point. Jack Nicholson isn't a particularly good actor either; he is always and ever simply Jack Nicholson. But my god, what fun to watch him being Jack Nicholson! And so it is with Audrey: incandescent charisma trumps "talent" every time. Or charisma itself is a talent (Teju Cole believes beauty is).
I mean, how can you quibble with that neck? Like those huge Murakami murals, she challenges the idea that the cute and the sublime are antithetical.