BoWilliams.com » Consumption

A few notes on Harry Potter, the wrong way

Bo — Mon, 16 Jan 2012 22:44:17 +0000

Until yesterday afternoon, it probably took being a monk to know less about Harry Potter than I did. Lea and I didn’t have children when the books started coming out, and by the time the phenomenon was in the stratosphere, there was too much catching up to do.

So, apart from trying 30 minutes of the first film on HBO and turning it off bored, I just never played. I got what anyone would get through osmosis. I knew he was a magical kid with a lightning bolt on his forehead (though I’d have probably called it a birthmark and not a scar). I knew he went to a school called Hogwarts. I knew non-magical people were called muggles, though I question whether I’d have even known that had it not been for geocaching. I could have come up with Dumbledore as a character name. I doubt I could have come up with Voldemort, though if you said it I could have identified it as part of the Harry Potter universe. Dig?

Then my friend BamaDan ordered the whole series on Blu-ray, and when he complained to the vendor about a couple of cases being damaged, they sent him a new one and told him not to worry about the old one. So that’s how I came to own the film series in high-definition for nothing. (Thanks, man!)

So who’s ever watched these movies without having turned a page of J.K. Rowling? Well, I have, now. Thanks to yucky weather and a three-day weekend, the boys and I have consumed the first four films. They’re really having fun with them. Aaron, in particular, is enthralled, which I’ve loved because he’s rarely an especially enthusiastic “fan.”

I am enjoying them well enough. They’re classic good-and-evil fantasy stories. I would have expected the production design to be pretty lights-out, and it is. The special effects mostly deliver. The writing isn’t particularly sharp, but it does a reasonable job remaining accessible to children without alienating adults (and that’s not the only way I’ve been reminded of Star Wars).

I just don’t have any emotional connection to these characters. I think “soulless” is too strong, but “cold” is in the ballpark. Now part of me says “if I’d read the books…” and I’m sure some of you said that too when you started this paragraph. But really, should that be necessary? Is it advisable to make a movie assuming someone has read the book on which it’s based? Shouldn’t it be its own thing? I think that both the recent Chronicles of Narnia and Lord of the Rings movies do a good job with that, though I can’t be certain because I’ve read those books.

So we’re through Goblet of Fire, which means we’re as far as Nathan has read (and wow, I’m grateful for that, because he has stayed just about to pop wanting to tell you what’s going to happen next). We’ll finish them in another week or so.

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Review: Ruth’s Chris Steak House

Bo — Sun, 15 Jan 2012 00:13:41 +0000

Last night was our first date night in some time. Lea and I visited Ruth’s Chris Steak House, inside the Embassy Suites downtown, where you just kind of wander into it in the lobby.

We’ve had our Ruth’s Chris in Huntsville for five years or so, and I’d heard about it probably that much longer again on talk radio, but neither of us had ever been. I accidentally selected the same night Ron “Tater Salad” White was in town, but our reservation and valet parking effectively mitigated any pain there. We checked our coats and were seated promptly. There are no continuous walls separating you from the hotel lobby at large, but the space is designed thoughtfully enough to provide suitable intimacy.

So the signature touch at Ruth’s Chris is that its USDA prime steaks are served to you at a temperature of 14,000,000,000,000,000 degrees. (OK, it’s really “only” 500 degrees Fahrenheit, after having been seared at 1800 degrees, but still, when she says “hot plate,” she means it.) They sizzle at the table because they’re bathed in a tablespoon of butter.

The other thing to know is that Ruth’s Chris side dishes each serve two to three people. I’m sure this works well in a group of four or more, but for two, it essentially means you have to be on the same page for your potato and any vegetable accompaniment. This seems needlessly constraining, but we dealt with the limitation mostly satisfactorily.

Lea and I are not big wine drinkers, so we didn’t spend any time with the impressive-looking list. I was a little surprised that not only was there not anything comparable for available beers, there didn’t seem to be a listing of any kind anywhere. Our server Jay assured me that they had “pretty much anything domestic,” so I settled on a Sierra Nevada Pale Ale, which arrived promptly with a chilled glass. Unfortunately, it was the last one in the restaurant, so I wasn’t able to continue with it. Failure to inform me of this in time to change my selection was the only (minor) service offense of the evening.

(And a switch to Sweetwater 420 Pale Ale isn’t a bad jump.)

Our appetizer of crab-stuffed mushrooms arrived perfectly halfway through the Sierra Nevada. The four golf-ball sized portobellos were tasty enough to hold our attention without being distracting. I also appreciate interesting flavors that don’t rely on salt overload, which has (sadly) become the norm for appetizers. These delivered nicely.

For dinner, Lea selected a New York strip, well done, while I had the filet, medium-rare (and that’s a stock Ruth’s Chris photo and not one of my particular steak, but it could be).

These came out sizzling as advertised, accompanied by the garlic mashed potatoes and fresh asparagus we had selected. After making a joke about being careful not to touch our tongues or ear lobes to the plates, we began.

Now given the shtick and the price, the steaks were going to have to be memorable, and they delivered. They were very high-quality cuts, cooked perfectly to order and with only the subtlest seasoning of salt, pepper, parsley, and the aforementioned butter in order to better showcase the corn-fed flavor.

I haven’t kept a list of the best steaks I’ve ever had, but there was absolutely nothing to complain about with this one. I hadn’t even a minor gripe with its quality. I’m certain it was a 90th-percentile steak for me; I think it might have been 95th-percentile. I cut it with my fork. The flavor was marvelous and long-lived. I started taking slightly smaller bites as the steak diminished on the plate, just so I’d have one or two more.

The asparagus was fresh, flavorful, and accompanied with hollandaise. It was cooked just a bit more than I prefer, with only a slight crispness, but still well within reasonable expectations. The garlic mashed potatoes were tasty, with only an occasional lump to assure authenticity, and (again) no salt overload.

For the close, Jay set a mountain of chocolate mousse pie between us, which was creamy, delicious, and artfully presented. We managed about two-thirds of it, I think, and I enjoyed an excellent French press black coffee with it.

The service experience, start to finish, was excellent. The meal was paced perfectly. Jay was polite and genuinely conversational (and I really dislike that rehearsed, straight-from-corporate-training quality there is to far too much server communication anymore). He, the hostess, and the valet all greeted me by name. It was all warm and attentive, with a good understanding and avoidance of what grates.

If you know anything else about Ruth’s Chris, you know that we’re not talking about the Golden Corral budget-wise. Now I think I paid a little bit more one time in Destin, but this visit definitely joined my American Express hall of fame for a single meal for two. With a shared appetizer, three alcoholic beverages, and dessert and coffee accompanying our steak dinners, and adding a 20.1% tip for our server and a fiver for the valet, the start-to-finish experience checked in at $184.

Now eating out is a luxury in the first place, so I’m not going to say that’s too much. It’s a pleasant evening at a premium restaurant, and that’s what that one cost. Our previous closest analog is probably Pauli’s, and I’m now interested in returning there soon for a head-to-head. (I’m reasonably sure I remember that a comparable visit is 20-25% less there.)

Nevertheless, we enjoyed ourselves very much, and I suspect we’ll return occasionally.

8/10

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They’re only little boys once

Bo — Sat, 07 Jan 2012 01:29:36 +0000

Well, I said that was it, but then tonight’s real post promptly wrote itself when I went into the kitchen just now.

Lea started a grocery list. A child who lives here added to it.

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Accidentally opened the door to another magazine gypsy

Bo — Mon, 02 Jan 2012 23:11:18 +0000

I’ve mostly quit opening the door to anyone selling anything except neighborhood children.

(Nice misplaced modifier. Hey Bo, you mean that you’ll only open the door to people selling neighborhood children? Heh.)

That closed-door policy is a result of a final-straw encounter with the magazine gypsies I wrote about before. If you ring my doorbell unexpectedly and I don’t recognize you, I ask your business through the closed door, and if it’s not an emergency then I tell you to leave. Besides delivery people, utility workers, and the like, there are friends, family members, neighbors, and people in dire need. If you’re none of the above, then get the hell out of here. Rude? Overreactive? Perhaps. Perhaps. (Even so, perception of this habit of mine is somewhere below strontium poisoning on the list of things I worry about day to day.)

So I say “mostly” in the first sentence because I was circumstantially fooled this afternoon. There have been workmen across the way all day, and I thought this guy might be one of them with some issue of mutual concern. Nope. He’s coming around to get my neighbors to vote for him! When I asked what that meant, he handed me the stereotypical laminated card and started in about a public speaking contest. Mildly irritated that I had taken the card at all, I gave it back to him and said “I’m not going to be able to help you with this.” He left immediately with barely another word, because he knew I’d made him.

Folks, if someone you’ve never seen before knocks on your door selling magazines, there is almost no chance it’s legitimate. (Have a look here and see if you recognize any tactics or keywords.) If you want a magazine subscription, then fill out and mail a blow-in card, or buy from a fund-raising schoolchild.

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Anti-reflections on New Year’s Day

Bo — Sun, 01 Jan 2012 20:28:03 +0000

January 1, new beginning, blah, blah, blah. I’m not feeling very profound today.

Or maybe I am. Depends on your perspective, I guess. The mood I am not in is one in which I self-flagellate for three or four paragraphs on all of the heinous mistakes I made in 2011, then make grandiose pronouncements of wholesale changes in the way I live my life.

What I am going to do is try to fully appreciate the power of the small correct decision. What does that mean? Dig:

I’m six months into successfully quitting smoking. By successful, I mean 100% compliance, without a single slip. It feels like I’m going to make it, but I’m not so foolish as to announce I have made it, because I’ve been this far down this road before.

The secret, I believe, is the avoidance of the past tense. I think that for most nicotine addicts, the addiction is out there forever. It doesn’t necessarily stay ready to pounce continuously, but it keeps an eye on you. I know from experience it can be sitting on your chest very quickly, and you don’t see it coming until you can’t breathe from the weight.

So what do you do about it? Well, whether you’re hitting a moment of unexpected weakness six months in, or you’re dealing with one of the eight or ten acute daily cravings right after you’ve stopped, you don’t say you’re never going to smoke again. Rather, you say you’re not going to smoke for the next five minutes, because hey, you can abstain for five minutes, right? Thing is, that five minutes tends to get strung together with other five minuteses. So they build into hours, and hours build into days, and days build into you’ve accomplished your goal. (Or, rather, you’re accomplishing your goal.)

I started considering what that kind of thinking might do for other areas of my life. After all, I think most of what I’d like to change about my life also involve errors of consumption. Shouldn’t have eaten that. Why did I buy that last week? So maybe you don’t announce that you’re changing your diet forever, or you’re going to be more careful with your money. Maybe instead you make a good decision right now. Then, you make another one. Then, you make another one. Drop the ball? Don’t worry; you’ve got another opportunity to decide well coming up.

How about loving your spouse? Do you just carry forward a baseline level of love for him/her, and today’s another day, so there it is? Or do you reinvigorate it with regular injections of positive attention? Guess which approach I’ve consistently observed in long, successful marriages?

I think meaningful forevers accumulate.

Happy New Year.

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Review: Hostel: Part III

Bo — Tue, 27 Dec 2011 23:57:11 +0000

Well, the UPS man brought me Hostel: Part III today—release day—and what better time for a feel-good family flick than the interim between Christmas and New Year’s, eh?

(No, I didn’t watch it with my boys. No need to call DHR.)

This is the first one not directed by Eli Roth (or “presented by Quentin Tarantino”), and the fact that this was a direct-to-video release effectively lowered my expectations.

Dig: it’s not awful, but it’s a definite step down from the first and second installments. There is a lot less budget here. There is insufficient novelty value in moving the setting to Las Vegas. There’s a well-done scene in which rich, well-dressed people drink expensive liquor and use their computers to do despicable things, but you know what? It was better in Taken.

Basically, the first film was a well-produced, mostly well-acted introduction to the unthinkably horrific concept of a murder retreat. The second film took the same setting, but added a marvelously understated sense of black humor and a wickedly powerful heroine. (I’m a big fan of Hostel: Part II.)

What sticks out is that this installment just doesn’t bring anything compelling of its own to the party. I mean, it’s a gimmick franchise, you know? It has one trick. And given that it has one trick, there has to be payoff beyond plot; bonuses that stand on their own. They just aren’t here.

(And if gorno is your thing: this is nowhere near the first two.)

The biggest potential liability is one of audience assumption. It’s inevitable that some people are going to happen into this film first and draw conclusions about the franchise at large, and that’s a mistake. This is a skillful knockoff, not a legitimate spiritual successor to the first two chapters.

If you’re a Hostel completist—as disturbing as such a concept is—then see it. Like I said, it’s not a disaster. It’s just a shame that that the first two films stood so much taller.

5/10

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Day after Christmas miscellanea

Bo — Mon, 26 Dec 2011 20:40:21 +0000

The boys had a good Christmas morning, I believe, though this is almost certainly Aaron’s last year to believe in Santa Claus. Nathan, calling on subtlety and understatement I didn’t realize he yet had, did a good job preserving it for Aaron without overselling it.
Lea and I got a new couch for Christmas, and exchanged smaller stuff yesterday. She got me a pillow I probably wouldn’t have paid for that is shaping up to be a great gift.
Dad had inch-thick strip steaks and shrimp for Christmas dinner. Awesome.
Even so, I arrested my weight loss backslide in a week that included that, as well as movie popcorn. Good for me. Now, full reverse.
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Nathan got six new video games from various directions yesterday, and yet still found it in himself to get pissed at me when I wouldn’t let him completely deplete his wallet to purchase a seventh today. (It did please me and mostly redeem the moment when he came back about 15 minutes later and told me I was right.)
Samuel Adams Chocolate Bock tastes exactly like a Hershey bar made into a beer. If that sounds appealing to you, then it’s a slam-dunk.
Today I reorganized my battery drawer and charger layout. I did the dishes. I’m going to cook tonight. I don’t see much else productive happening.

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Merry Christmas

Bo — Sun, 25 Dec 2011 12:51:47 +0000

For to us a child is born; to us a son is given. And the government shall be on his shoulders. And he will be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace. – Isaiah 9:6

Merry Christmas to you and your family.

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The Christmas home stretch

Bo — Mon, 19 Dec 2011 13:37:49 +0000

The boys helped me start and finish the cards yesterday in exactly two hours, which was fantastic. Lea is her usual awesome self, handling at least one thing I don’t see for every thing I do.

As for me, dudes and dolls, if it’s not in my sphere of Christmas concern by 7:30 on the morning of December 19, it’s probably not going to get in there. I apologize in advance for any slights, both perceived and genuine.

Lunch with Carol today. Movie and pizza with BamaDan on deck later in the week. Only marginal proximity to retail in each case. Lea has asked that I take the boys all day Thursday, so we’ll be doing that. We’ll go have lunch somewhere fun, and I haven’t worked the rest of it out. (I haven’t watched any of my Christmas movies yet; alas, the boys aren’t even close to old enough for any of them for at least another couple of years.)

Mainly, I’m trying to take my foot off the accelerator a little bit. It’s a silly time of year, but I’m trying to appreciate that freneticism is still a choice, and I’m trying not to make it. Join me, won’t you?

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Aaron’s gingerbread fortification

Bo — Sat, 17 Dec 2011 16:13:52 +0000

Aaron’s class made gingerbread houses this week.

He’s a sweet, thoughtful child, and I’m not at all worried about the development of his temperament and personality. However, there may be a bit of evidence here that I let him play Halo games a little early.

Those are defense turrets at each corner, and the red hot-topped bit on the roof is a grenade launcher.

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