cursing you solves all my problems
this and that 2/10/2025
During our move to LA eleven and a half years ago, we found two apartments we really liked and seriously considered renting. One was a two-bedroom in a nondescript 1970s fourplex on a quiet block at the north edge of Atwater Village, steps from the river and the horse stables but a 25-minute walk down to the main drag of Glendale Blvd. The other was a one-bedroom in a pre-war complex on Price Street right off Commonwealth in Los Feliz. I remember being charmed by its black-and-white checked kitchen floor, the smooth (non-popcorn) ceilings, and the ground-floor view of the courtyard. Greenery, little paths leading to the other buildings, and a picnic bench right outside our window suggested a sense of community. It was a bit smaller than the Atwater apartment, but the courtyard living felt welcoming and very Los Angeles, like an easygoing Melrose Place, where we could borrow the proverbial cup of sugar or steal a baby.
Then, either John or I clocked the empty beer bottles on the picnic table. And the ashtray full of cigarette butts. Did I mention the table was right outside our window? We noticed our prospective neighbors were extremely young, like early-20s. Though it was the middle of the afternoon I had a vision of 2am, party in the courtyard, me screaming to “keep it down!” complete with eye-mask and curlers in my hair.
We took the quiet Atwater apartment (popcorn ceilings and all) and have no regrets. I missed my window to willingly live in a classic Los Angeles courtyard apartment building, and I’m totally fine with that. But watching Lawrence Lamont’s One of Them Days, starring Keke Palmer and SZA, brought some of those feelings of nostalgia — or whatever the word for nostalgia for something you never actually experienced — back. One of Them Days is a great Los Angeles hangout movie, a buddy comedy with a simple premise (we gotta come up with the rent money!) and a series of simple but satisfying set-pieces. Palmer and SZA are roommates in a Baldwin Village picnic-bench-in-the-courtyard apartment complex, and, despite the looming (dubiously legal) threat of eviction, they’re having a good time. Palmer is always solid, but SZA is able to distill her daffy, always-on-the-brink-of-emotional-crashout popstar energy into a great performance. This is her Desperately Seeking Susan moment, where a musical persona coalesces into a fully-formed character emblematic of her generation and her adopted city.
I also watched two Oscar-nominated animated movies, of which the less said about the better. The Wild Robot is slightly less treacly than Inside Out 2, but they both suffer from the same problem. How many times must we watch charmless, computer generated drawings “learn to get in touch with their emotions”? Where are the life-and-death stakes? Where are the evil, queer-coded villains? Parents must find this generation of eat-your-vegetable animation stale and vapid, and I can’t imagine it’s much more fun for kids. Give me Ursula physically disabling Ariel or Honest John pimping Pinocchio out to Stromboli.
I finished The Agency, the American remake of French spy series Le Bureau. The show was produced by Showtime and aired on Paramount Plus, and the creators (the Butterworth brothers — what a cross to bear) add some Homelandian melodrama to the often glacially-paced original version. Michael Fassbender is solid, if a little unbelievable, as a CIA everyman. But the supporting cast: Jeffrey Wright, Jodie Turner-Smith, Richard Gere, newcomer Saura Lightfoot-Leon, even my former Tisch classmate nepobaby-nemesis Katherine Waterston, are all suburb.
Aside from my carob adventures, I made a few other recipes worth sharing this week.
Lunch were these Vegetarian Red Lentil Wraps by Ana Sortun in Food & Wine. Mine were more piles than wraps that I scooped into tasteless but effective high-fiber spinach tortillas. The mixture of spiced lentils, bulgur, tomato, and briny pepperoncini is more compelling than it sounds. I’ll make them again, but I won’t bother with the tomato brown butter. Dumping a can of fire-roasted tomatoes into the pot while the lentils and bulgur cook will suffice.
Last Sunday I made a vegetarian version of Inés Anguiano’s Pozole Blanco from Bon Appetit. I subbed two cans of white beans (also blanco!) for the pork and veggie bouillon for the chicken, not bothering with the thickening flour, just sautéeing the aromatics before throwing the beans and hominy in together. This type of pozole doesn’t have any chilies or tart tomatillos, so the toppings are super important. Cabbage, radish, avocado, lime, and cilantro are essential. I also added some sour cream, making the pozole as blanco as could be.
Wednesday I did Hetty McKinnon’s Sheet-Pan Coconut Curry With Squash and Tofu from the NYTimes. (I just learned about gift articles, so you should be able to see the recipe even if you don’t have a subscription — let me know if it works.) I splurged by buying a big ($8!!!) butternut squash at the farmers market, but I shouldn’t have bothered. It was way too much squash and not enough tofu or greens, even though I doubled the amount of kale in the recipe. The curry coconut sauce is tasty (and spicy, I used Mekhala red curry paste), and I let the kale (I used the pre-shredded bag from TJ’s) get nice and crispy in the oven. But there’s no good reason for this to be a “sheet-pan” recipe. Make it in a pot (or should it be a wok?) like a normal Thai person. There’s obviously some diabolical sheet-pan mandate over at the Times. I know Hetty is rolling her eyes along with me as she’s cashing those sweet Sulzberger checks.
Friday was takeout from the longstanding Dino’s Pizza in Burbank: 1/2 mushroom/pineapple for me and 1/2 sausage/peppers for John. Dino’s makes a style of pizza I can only describe as “90s California chain,” which sounds like I’m damning it with faint praise, but I’m not. There’s a reason I drove all the way to Burbank to pick it up. Round Table kids will understand.
If you find yourself driving along Burbank Blvd. to pick up your Dino’s, stop by Fancy Free Liquor for a nice bottle of wine. The vibe is very anachronistic earnest hipster (Beach House absolutely blasting from the iPad), perfectly Burbank. I got a Colli Pesaresi Sangiovese, the type of red made for pizza nights at home.
I’ll leave you with SZA’s SLAA lullaby “Kitchen” off her just-released Lana, an allusion to her childhood nickname, but perhaps also an homage to another accomplished singer-songwriter who gets tangled up in fuckbois.
Next week in Back to the Garden, a vegetarian version of an ersatz “ethnic” ‘70s dinner party hors d'oeuvre. ✌️
👏🏼😅