Yearly Archives: 2007

Screen time

"The Queen"

My stars, “The Queen” felt like a long movie. Helen Mirren was very good as the queen, but I can’t help think the De-Glamorized Pretty Lady Effect played a role in how well the performance was received. The movie made it difficult for me to sympathize with anyone. The royal family was portrayed as a bunch of cold-hearted beasts (which, for all I know, they may be), and Tony Blair came off as a star-struck kid (which, again, maybe he was).

And I had to turn on the subtitles because I couldn’t understand what anyone was saying. I don’t like low-talker movies in general, and I didn’t care for this movie in particular.

Eating

No birds were harmed in the making of this cake.

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Hummingbird Cake
3 cups all-purpose flour
1 tsp baking soda
1/2 tsp salt
2 cups sugar
1 tsp ground cinnamon
3 eggs, beaten
3/4 cup vegetable oil
1 1/2 tsp vanilla extract
1 (8-oz) can crushed pineapple, undrained
1 cup chopped pecans
3 very ripe bananas, mashed
Cream Cheese Frosting (recipe follows)

Combine first five ingredients in a large bowl; add eggs and oil, stirring until dry ingredients are moistened. (The resulting batter is very thick — practically dough-like.) Do not beat.

Combine vanilla, pineapple, pecans and bananas. Stir in to flour mixture.

Pour batter into three greased and floured nine-inch round cake pans. Bake at 350 degrees for 23 to 28 minutes or until a wooden pick inserted in center comes out clean. Cool for 10 minutes; remove from pans and let cool completely on wire racks.

Spread frosting between layers and on top and sides of cake.

Cream Cheese Frosting
1 cup butter
2 (8-oz) package cream cheese, softened
1 (32-oz) package powdered sugar
2 tsp vanilla extract

Cream butter and cream cheese. Gradually add powdered sugar, beat until mixture is light and fluffy. Stir in vanilla. (This makes roughly 3 tons of frosting. Cut the recipe in half if you’re not a frosting fanatic.)


Family matters

Twenty-nine

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The first time I saw Rockford, I knew. It flashed through my head with just as much certainty as you might think, “Today, I’ll have a cheese sandwich for lunch.” And as much fanfare, too. It didn’t shock me or shake me. It was just there. I saw him striding across the commons, and there it was: “That’s the person I’m going to marry.”

It was, I believe, 1990. We were in the seventh grade. I didn’t speak to him for a full year after that.

With all the casualness I could muster (and I would’ve been roughly 12 years old, so I’m sure it was a convincing display), I asked my friend Amanda if she knew who he was, this feathered-haired vision in the Bo Jackson T-shirt.

“That’s Rockford,” she said. “He’s really into baseball cards.”

He doesn’t feather his hair anymore (a shame, really), and much to his dismay, he no longer has a Bo Jackson T-shirt. And he’s not really into baseball cards anymore. (Baseball itself is another story.)

But I’m just as certain now as I was that day. He’s my guy.

Happy birthday, Rockford. I love you.