Girl Detective

I took 3yo Guppy with me to see Wes Anderson’s stop-motion animated adaptation of Road Dahl’s Fantastic Mr. Fox, and we had a fantastic time. It’s a clever fox versus mean farmers, and it turns into all out war. It’s a movie for kids that works for all ages, especially for fans of Wes Anderson, whose style is surprisingly well-suited to animation.

Clooney and Streep are charming in the voice leads, while Jason Schwartzman is hilarious as their sullen, weird son. There’s some violence and guns, so this is not for every kid, but those in the theater with us seemed to enjoy it immensely, and 3yo Guppy had no troubles.

My favorite part was how they substituted the word “cuss” for all other bad words: “What the cuss are you talking about?” “Cuss off!” From imdb’s trivia:

Throughout the film, the word “cuss” is used in place of actual cursing. When asked about its origin in a radio interview on “Fresh Air” with Terry Gross, Wes Anderson said, “I don’t even remember. It think it was just to use the concept of profanity as a replacement for profanity itself. It turned out to be very versatile.” In keeping with this theme, one of the buildings seen in the film bears “CUSS” written as spray-painted graffiti.

Ignatius Macfarland: Frequenaut! by Paul Feig was recommended to me by a fellow Freaks and Geeks fan. Along with Judd Apatow, Feig was one of the show’s creators, and went on to direct episodes of several comedies, like Apatow’s Undeclared, Arrested Development, 30 Rock and The Office, all of which I like a great deal.

I like Feig’s work, so I was disappointed when I didn’t like Feig’s book.

Ignatius is a typically Feig-ian outcast. He’s twelve, has few friends, doesn’t connect with his parents and gets picked on at school. He fantasizes about alien abduction and space travel to get away from it all. When he and his friends build a spaceship, he gets his wish. Sort of. He’s transported to an alternate “frequency” of Earth, one that has a few other former members of his town, who also got caught in explosions. One of them is Karen, a badass goth girl, and another is Chester L. Arthur, a former English teacher with delusions of grandeur who has subjugated many of the strange-creature natives, taken over as “President” and tries to pass off other people from Earth’s best creations as his own. Iggy and Karen meet up with a race of flying intellectuals, then are caught in a race war while being chased by Arthur’s army. Throughout, Iggy provides commentary as well as story. It’s supposed to be funny, but instead I found it tiring.

My name is Ignatius MacFarland, and I am a Frequenaut.

Hmm. I guess it looks sort of weird to see it written down that way. I don’t mean it’s weird to see my name written down. I mean the word Frequenaut. It almost looks like it’s French. It’s not, though. At least not that I know of.

This is a young boy adventure, and it might appeal to young boys and people who were at some point young boys. It failed to connect with me, from its meandering plot to its end that wasn’t an ending, but instead a thin bridge to a sequel I don’t care to seek out. I wanted to like it, but couldn’t.

I watched It’s a Wonderful Life for the first time last night. Good, but almost unrelentingly sad right up till the admittedly satisfying ending . (I was reminded of when the friends of Friends tried to show it to Phoebe as an example of a movie with a happy ending.)

Instead, watch American Madness, a Capra film with some of the same banking and character motifs, or Shop Around the Corner, a better, IMO, Stewart holiday film.

ETA: At Mental Floss, 10 bits of trivia about It’s a Wonderful Life.

Death at a Funeral was my husband G. Grod’s pick, and I didn’t much care for it. The tone of black humor was never quite right, and jokes were used again and again, which felt to me like getting repeatedly hit over the head.

The redeeming factor was Alan Tudyk, along with Peter Dinklage the only Americans in the film, who was hilarious stoned.

I didn’t watch Bridget Jones’ Diary because it’s a holiday movie, but it opens and closes at the holidays, so it was a happy coincidence.

This is a silly little film that somehow rises above its own absurdity to reach an almost alarming level of charm and hilarity. Zellweger actually appears human with her extra 25 pounds. Colin Firth brings dignity to a role that could have been thin and ridiculous. And Hugh Grant plays the cad, a role he’s much better suited for than the bumbling nice guy that he usually plays. He captures it nicely when he says he’s a guy with a posh accent and a terrible character.

Not high art by any means, and left me with a lurking uneasiness about why Mark Darcy would fancy Bridget, as she’s such the opposite of Lizzie Bennett. But as an everywoman caricature of normal insecurities, and a fantasy of “getting” Mr. Darcy, it works. Like a charm.

My favorite holiday movie is The Shop Around the Corner, later remade as In the Good Old Summertime and You’ve Got Mail. Jimmy Stewart and Margaret Sullavan are bickering store clerks in Budapest. Unknown to them, they’re also pen pals, writing provoking and passionate anonymous letters to one another.

The rest of the store’s staff has a more robust plot than might be expected, which is part of what gives this romantic comedy some heft and impressive momentum.

This movie might be perfect. I love it.

This year, with both boys off from school and G. Grod taking off most of the week after Christmas, and since we only set up our tree on Christmas Eve, I decided to embrace the entire 12 days of Christmas as the celebration.

I already wrote about the first day.

On the second day of Christmas, we ventured out in the snow to our grocery coop for necessary basics like yogurt and heavy cream. The streets were still bad from the Christmas storm, so we walked and took the sled, 3yo Guppy hitching a ride for most of a mile downhill. G shouldered the food on the way back up the hill, and both boys wanted to ride in the sled. I lasted about 2 blocks, then, sucking wind with thundering heart, told them to GET OUT! and WALK ALREADY! (The walk home is particularly steep, and challenging in the best of weathers.) I was in need of a nap when we got home.

After that, I had to convince the boys (what?) to watch Santa Claus is Comin’ to Town. But the penguin, I insisted! Burgermeister Meisterburger! “Put one foot in front of the other…” Grudgingly, they allowed me to play my DVD, and not so grudgingly, they enjoyed it.

For bed, we read more of our Christmas library: Cranberry Christmas by Wende and Harry Devlin, The Mole Family’s Christmas by Russell Hoban, and The Night Before Christmas ill. by Jessie Willcox Smith (one of three different copies we have.) G and I very much enjoyed Bridget Jones’ Diary on dvd (which opens and closes at the holidays!) later that night.

On the third day of Christmas I went to yoga class while G. made biscuits and sausage gravy, then we met friends at the park for sledding. G and I geeked out and watched Part 1 of the David Tennant Dr. Who finale. Disappointing, but we were glad not to see any Daleks.

On the fourth day of Christmas the boys played with snap circuits and G. and I watched Death at a Funeral that night. It tried to be funny, but was instead mostly unpleasant. Alan Tudyk on hallucinogens saved it from being a total loss, I thought.

On the fifth day of Christmas we met at a friend’s house for a huge gathering of families. Great company, good coffee and snacks, but twenty two kids make rather a lot of noise. I finally got back to writing holiday cards. The boys watched Schoolhouse Rock, a gift from my aunt. That night, G and I watched It’s a Wonderful Life for the first time. I’d seen the Marlo Thomas remake several times as a child, (Orson Welles as Mr. Potter, Trapper John as her husband, Chloris Leachman as the angel and Christopher Guest as her brother!) yet somehow never the original. It’s good, but long and repetitively tragic before its happy ending. I prefer American Madness (which has some of the same banking/money details) or It Happened One Night as Capra films, and The Shop around the Corner as a Jimmy Stewart holiday film.

And on the sixth day of Christmas, I made oatmeal from Damn Good Food, a gift from my aunt. Then we read Emmet Otter’s Jug Band Christmas by Russell Hoban, after which we took a family walk as the snow fell, fiercely and briefly, yet again.

More Christmas doings to come, I hope.

G. Grod and I accompanied 6yo Drake and 3yo Guppy downstairs, where they stared, wide-eyed and silent, at the tree in the living room that had not been there the day before. (Shh. G put it up Christmas Eve while I wrapped presents and helped.)

In past years, G and my parents have sent so many stocking stuffers that we haven’t needed to help. This year was a scaled-back celebration for lots of v. good reasons, so I was on stocking duty for the first time. Friends helped with lots of suggestions, and in the end I put in: a chocolate, a peppermint, a small box of Altoids, a pack of Glee gum, a candy cane, a temporary tattoo (free from a store sometime last summer), mechanical toys they got at a birthday party and forgot about, a roll of quarters (for video games and gumball machines), a tiny satsuma mandarin orange, a finger puppet and a pack of Annie’s bunny fruit snacks. The boys decided on their own that Santa had filled the stockings.

The boys’ Auntie Sydney managed to score a Zhou Zhou pets Giant Hamster City Playset, which was the hit of the morning, though Lego Secret Agents and Snap Circuits also got a lot of attention. We watched The Grinch Who Stole Christmas, then I made snow Totoros

which the boys had no interest in while G shoveled the heavy, wet snow. Good for building, bad for shoveling. Since the roads were bad we didn’t go out for Chinese, but instead made pepperoni pan pizza. G discovered that vodka makes the cooking process a lot easier. We had pumpkin whoopie pies for dessert, then watched Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer.

At bed, the boys and I read several of our favorite Christmas books, the new Christmas Magic, beautifully illustrated by Jon Muth (Zen Shorts and Zen Ties), Mr. Willowby’s Christmas Tree, Olivia Helps with Christmas, Harvey Slumfenburger’s Christmas Present, and James Marshall’s The Night Before Christmas. Then we sang all the carols we know from Tomie DePaola’s Book of Christmas Carols, which we borrowed from the library for the fourth year in a row.

Then G and I snuggled down on the couch to watch The Shop Around the Corner, which charms me anew every time I watch it. Is it perfect? I think it might be.

My one consolation for not having read Ray Bradbury’s Fahrenheit 451 in school as a youngster is that I might not have liked it and appreciated it as much as I did when I read it this week. It’s one of the the many classics that somehow got missed in school and I never got around to as an adult until I saw a nice, new copy at a used bookstore, and here we are.

I knew the premise–most do, I think. There’s a dystopic future in which books are outlawed and burned. The title is a reference to the temperature at which paper burns. Guy Montag is a fireman who gradually notices how wrong things are.

“I–I’ve been thinking. About the fire last week. About the man whose library we fixed. What happened to him?”

“They took him screaming off to the asylum.”

“He wasn’t insane.”

Beatty arranged his cards quietly. “Any man’s insane who thinks he can fool the government and us.”

“I’ve tried to imagine,” said Montag, “just how it would feel. I mean, to have firemen burn our houses and our books.

“We haven’t any books.”

“But if we did have some.”

“You got some?”

Beatty blinked slowly.

“No.” Montag gazed beyond them to the wall with the typed lists of a million forbidden books. Their names leapt in fire, burning down the years under his ax and his hose which sprayed not water but kerosene. “No.” But in his mind, a cool wind started up and blew out of the ventilator grille at home, softly, softly, chilling his face. And again, he saw himself in a green park talking to an old man, a very old man, and the wind from the park was cold, too.

He befriends a former professor, stands up to his fire chief, and fights a truly frightening robotic dog as he tries to get out from beneath the suffocating, normalizing, noisy, inane blanket that society has become.

I found the book hard to put down as Montag began to struggle, then burst from the constraints of a bookless, book-burning society. I found many of Bradbury’s elements chillingly prescient–television panels that took up whole walls, shows that were supposedly real that viewers became personally involved in, and entertainment that’s dumbed down so it offends no one, and challenges no one.

This is a timeless book about censorship, individualism, society, the love of books and the challenge of intellectual pursuits. I wished for more, and more rounded female characters, a lack Bradbury defends (somewhat grumpily) in the Coda of my edition.

What book would I save, were I living in that world? Leaving aside Shakespeare and the Bible as obvious choices, I’d probably choose Possession by A.S. Byatt. It’s one of the richest and most satisfying books I’ve ever read–romance, history, mystery, poetry, religion, science all wrapped up in a good story. More importantly, though, it helped push me out of a rut in my life of a job I didn’t care for and a relationship I couldn’t grow in. Fiction that provokes change and growth is the kind of book that’s held up and celebrated in Fahrenheit 451.

From the archives. I like how the first time I posted it was in late November, last year was early December and this year about 48 hours before Christmas. This year, the annotated version.

On gift giving for kids:
Star Tribune 12/24/89 - Pat Gardner “Tender Years”

The weeks of hectic preparation are coming to a close. Within days [hours], the magic will begin to unfold for our children and, vicariously through them, for us. Just as we remember those wonderful Christmas Eves and mornings long ago, our children will one day look back on these days. How will they remember them? What are you giving your children this year?

I know one family of modest means that makes a great effort to celebrate Christmas in the best way possible. Their children always find five gifts under the tree. And more than that, the gifts are always accompanied by a parent. Here’s how they do it.

The children always receive a gift to hug and love. Sometimes it’s a doll or maybe a stuffed animal. Every Christmas each child has something to care for, to carry along and finally at night to share a bed, secrets and dreams. [I'm giving them stuffed toys that have been out of sight so long they may have been forgotten.]

The wise parents know that the children will themselves learn to care for others by practicing on dolls and stuffed animals. Mom and Dad demonstrate rocking the stuffed bear and wiping the doll’s face. They talk about being gentle and giving care.

More important, they treat their children tenderly. They make a special effort at this busy time of year for a little more lap time, more frequent hugs and all the physical care and attention their young children need.

The children in this family always receive something to read. The parents know that to give them books is to give them wings. The little ones get books, and the big ones get books. Books aren’t foreign to any member of this family. Books are treasures. And more than that, they become a daily connection between parent and child. [I've bought books for every single person on my list except my elder son. Oops.]

The wise parents know that the best way to raise a reader is to read to a child….They share curiosity. They take the time to listen patiently to their beginning reader. They share discoveries. Through books, these parents explore worlds within their home and beyond their front door with all of their children.

The children receive toys and games. These parents are concerned about each child’s skills and find fun ways to enhance their present capabilities and encourage further development. For a grasping baby, a crib gym; for a beginning walker, a push toy; for a pre-schooler, a shape and color sorter; for a beginning reader, a game of sequence and strategy. [We can't find Quarto or the Cranium Marble game locally, so games may have to wait.]

The parents know that play is the work of childhood. They understand that to meet a child at her level of accomplishment is to encourage success in play. Success stimulates motivation and interest in a challenge. So the parents judge their toy and game choices carefully. Not too easy, but not too hard.

They they do the most important thing. They play with their children. The children see that learning is a toy, that it’s fun to challenge oneself, that play can be a very social activity, that it’s OK to win and also to lose and that Mom and Dad wholeheartedly approve of play.

The children in this family always receive a gift of activity. From a simple ball or jump rope to a basketball hoop or a pair of ice skates, they always have one gift that encourages action. [But what if the action it encourages is hitting your little brother, as with the hockey stick I'm thinking of getting 6yo Drake?]

The parents know that those children who, by nature, are very active may need to be channeled into acceptable and appropriate activities. And they know that those children who, by nature, are very passive may need to be encouraged to move with purpose. But their message to their children is that physical activity is important and good.

These parents make their message clear by joining their children in physical play. They skate and play catch. They’re on the floor with their crawlers and walk hand in hand with their toddlers. They get bumped and bruised and laugh and shout. They sled and they bowl. And many times in the next few weeks when resting on the couch sounds much more inviting, these parents will give their kids one more gift. They’ll get up and play with them.

The children always receive a gift of artistic expression. They might find crayons, paints or markers in their stockings. It might be a gift of clay this year or rubber stamps or scissors and glue. The materials change, but the object remains the same: create with joy.

These wise parents aren’t terribly concerned about the mess of finger paints. [Um, speak for yourself. I hate mess. I'm not a good artistic mom.] They’re more concerned about the exposure to unique sensations. They want their children to use their imaginations. They want their children to approach life in a hands-on fashion. And they want them to express themselves through their artistic activities in ways that exceed their vocabularies.

As with The Wild Things, I’m suspicious of novels based on other mediums; I’ve been disappointed too many times. But when I asked C, the second-in-command at Big Brain Comics, what he thought of Peter and Max by Bill Willingham, he replied that he picked it up and a long time later realized he’d been reading one of the best Fables stories in the series, and it wasn’t even the comic book.

Fables is an ongoing monthly comic from DC/Vertigo, written by Bill Willingham and mostly illustrated by Steve Leialoha. It posits a small neighborhood in NYC where storybook characters live in exile, and a farm in upstate New York where the animal and other nonhuman storybook characters live in seclusion. It’s won scads of awards, and is a complex, entertaining series in the tradition of Neil Gaiman’s Sandman. I recently enjoyed the twelfth graphic novel collection, The Dark Ages.

Peter and Max is a standalone novel about Peter Piper and his brother Max, who live in the land of Hesse:

The caravan belonged to the Piper family who, as their name implied, were traveling musicians., Just as Millers mill and Fletchers fletch, the Pipers piped. At least three out of four of them did. The father, Johannes, and his two sons, Max, the eldest and young Peter, all played the long pipe, which was sometimes called the single pipe, or occasionally even the flute as it was still known back then, before some enterprising soul came along later and decided all true flutes should be turned sideways to play…

The family had no home, except for their wagon. They lived the life of happy vagabonds, traveling here and there, throughout the year, going to festivals and fairs, and every other sort of scheduled celebration, where they’d make their living by letting anyone call the tune, provided they were willing to pay the Pipers. (38-9)

They are staying with their friends the Peeps when Hesse is invaded by the emperor’s goblin troops. The families flee for the town of Hamelin through the black forest, but soon are separated when Max’s jealousy of Peter takes a serious turn.

The novel alternates between modern time and the past as Peter and Max take separate but always intertwined paths. It’s set before the Fables/Empire war in the series’ time line. Both stories have fierce momentum that drive the past and present stories to a satisfying conclusion. The novel is well illustrated by Leialoha in black ink, which adds to the storybook feeling, as does the violent content, consistent with fables of old.

I found this a great addition to the Fables oeuvre, with many takes on legends involving Peter, pipers, and the Peeps. It would also be good for those unfamiliar to the Fables comic-book series, as an introduction to the series, especially for those not yet familiar with the complex literary and visual joys of the comic-book medium. Highly recommended.

I Love You, Man is a decent, if uneven, comedy about Peter Klaven (Peter Rudd) and his lack of close male friends. His father and his brother are best friends, his fencing buddies are having a bachelor party for a guy he didn’t even know was getting married, and where is he going to find groomsmen, much less a best man, once he gets engaged?

At a real-estate open house, Klaven meets Sidney Fife (Jason Segal), a straight-talking, easy-going guy. A friendship soon develops as they bond over food and their love of the band Rush. Soon Peter starts fighting with his fiancee, Zoe (Rashida Jones), though, and things don’t go quite as planned.

This is for fans of Rudd and Segal, and fans of improv-type awkward comedy. Some of the scenes and lines are cringe inducing, yet many are hilarious.

Sydney Fife: You get home safe, Pistol.
Peter Klaven: You got it, Joben.
Sydney Fife: I’m sorry, what?
Peter Klaven: Er… nothing.
Sydney Fife: No, what did you say?
Peter Klaven: Nah, I don’t know… You nicknamed me Pistol, and I just called you… “Joben”… It means nothing… I don’t… I’m drunk… I’m gonna call a cab.

There are great supporting parts with Jon Favreau and Jaime Pressley as a constantly bickering couple, JK Simmons as Paul Rudd’s dad (even though he’s only 14 years older than Rudd) and Andy Samberg as Rudd’s gay brother, Robbie. It’s good, not great, but I laughed out loud many times.

A while back, I switched to buying graphic novel collections of most of my comics rather than buying them monthly. It was hard for me to follow the story with the lags, I was bothered by the intrusive ads, and I usually ended up re-reading them as a group anyway. The latest collection of Bill Willingham’s popular series, Fables, is The Dark Ages. The comic book series posits a secret neighborhood in New York City of storybook characters, or “Fables”–King Cole is the mayor, Beauty runs the office, her husband Beast is the sheriff, and more. They are living in exile, driven out of their homelands by the evil Emperor.

For those keeping up, the war between Fabletown and the Empire is over. While the Fables claim victory and their enemy is now living among them, the war had great costs. Heroes were injured or fell, and there’s chaos in the worlds formerly ruled by the Empire. In one of them, an evil is unleashed that has immediate and serious consequences for all the Fables. The first chapter is illustrated by Mike Allred, whose strong distinctive style is well-suited to characters like Snow White and Bigby Wolf. Pinocchio, Boy Blue, Rose Red, and Frau Totenkinder all feature prominently in the following chapters, while Mowgli gets his own back-up story.

Frau Totenkinder: So, if we’ve a special connection to our stories in this world, did we create the stories, and those who’ve written them? Or did the stories create us?…

Badger: Maybe there’s some sort of separate master storyteller. Y’know, one who created both us AND the tales about us.

Two new characters are introduced, Freddy and Mouse. Given their appearance and names, I think they’ve got to be an homage to Fritz Leiber’s Fafhrd and the Gray Mouser books, which my husband likes.

The Fables series seemed to have reached its climax with the war, but I’m pleased to see that the strength of the stories and the panoply of fascinating storybook characters only seems to be gaining momentum. This is a dark, complex fantasy tale that’s easy to fall into.

At Houseboat Eats, which I’ll presently be adding to my subscription list, author Talley writes “On properly heating your pan.” Be sure to watch the embedded video. I hesitated a bit about following the link from The Morning News, but holy cats, I’m glad I did. The video is fascinating, and I can’t wait to try it tonight when I cook tofu.

I recently saw Spike Jonze’s Where the Wild Things Are, and appreciated its complex, nuanced takes on the mother/son relationship and how baffling it is to be a child. When C., the second in command at Big Brain Comics, recommended the novelization The Wild Things, I was skeptical. I’m a book snob; we snobs don’t read movie novelizations. Yet this one is by Dave Eggers, editor of McSweeney’s, author of several books, co-founder of a national network of youth writing and tutoring centers, and co-author (with Jonze) of the film’s screenplay. It was part of a sale, so I was easily swayed and decided to give it a go.

The book, like the movie, is an imaginative expansion of the popular, enduring children’s book Where the Wild Things Are by Maurice Sendak. Max is the spirited son of a single mother. He doesn’t like his mother’s new boyfriend, and his teenage sister has become distant and unkind. After a particularly violent outburst, he runs away and finds a boat:

Max sailed in and out of days and nights. He endured blustery winds, cruel winds, chattering winds, and warm blanketing breezes. There were waves like dragons and waves like sparrows. There was rain but mostly there was sun, the terribly unimaginative sun, doing the same things day in and day out…

But one day he saw something. A green blot on the horizon, no bigger than a caterpillar…

When he awoke, the caterpillar had become an island…vibrating with color and sound. (p. 95-7)

On the island, Max meets the group of wild things, and becomes their king. As he gets to know the island and its denizens, though, he finds life as a wild thing is more difficult than he’d imagined.

If you liked the movie, you’ll likely appreciate the book. If you didn’t care for the movie, you should probably skip The Wild Things. As with the movie, I enjoyed Max’s sojourn with the wild things more than I did the modern-world scenes at the beginning and end. The prose is simple and straightforward, and would be good for young readers of longer, non-illustrated chapter books. In places it hews closely to the movie but in others it departs. Overall it’s more of a collection of compelling scenes rather than a narrative with forward momentum. In the acks at the back, Eggers states it’s an amalgam of Sendak’s, Jones’ and his own childhood experiences.

As with all McSweeney’s books, it’s a striking edition whether covered in illustrated cloth or fur.

Another recipe from Baked: New Frontiers in Baking by Matt Lewis and Renato Poliafito, Oatmeal Cherry Nut Cookies, were an obvious choice for me to make. Not only did I have most of the ingredients on hand, their recipe jazzes up the traditional oatmeal cookie by adding winter spices of cinnamon, nutmeg and my current fave, cardamom, along with dried cherries and walnuts. The dough requires freezing for six hours, so I made these with 3yo Guppy in the morning, and baked them in the afternoon. Soft out of the oven, they firmed up on the outside nicely, but still were chewy in the centers. The spice is pronounced; these are not bland! But both my 6yo and 3yo devoured them, so it’s a good alternative to the oatmeal raisin, as promised.

The recipe says to drop the dough by rounded tablespoons on the baking sheet, then

With the palm of your hand, gently press each cookie down so it forms a tall disk shape. Do not press too hard and do not press it flat.

In both the Chipotle Cheddar Biscuits and the Banana Cupcakes with Vanilla Pastry Cream, I found vague directions. Here, they are trying hard to be clear, yet I still wasn’t sure what they mean by a tall disk shape–a cylinder? Also, on my last batch, I forgot to press down on the dough balls, and these were at least as good as the pressed-down ones, so the specificity didn’t result in a better cookie, IMO.

In which I continue my way through Baked: New Frontiers in Baking by Matt Lewis and Renato Poliafito. This is the intro for their Banana Cupcakes with Vanilla Pastry Cream:

Pastry cream is absolutely underused and unduly ignored. This richer, sexier, silkier French cousin to good old American pudding deserves another look. In our opinion, there are few things better thana good pastry cream for slathering onto single-layer cakes or little cupcakes, or as a base for a fruit tart. Lush and fragrant, we think it makes the banana cake in this recipe shine. Its homey taste and upscale finish turn an ordinary cupcake into something special.

They’re preaching to the converted, here. Boston cream pie? Check. Bavarian cream donuts? Yes. Italian cornetto di crema? Si! I love a good pastry cream, so this recipe seemed an obvious one to try.

My pastry cream turned out thinner than the recipe indicated. The instructions were not specific enough:

cook over medium heat, whisking constantly, until thickened, about six minutes.

I whisked for at least eight minutes, and the mixture was thickened, just not thick enough to act like a frosting. I put it in a pastry bag and it oozed right out. Instead, I spooned it over the cupcakes to good effect, though they were messy to eat.

I’d amend the recipe to say “until very thick (not runny) and spreadable.

I also found a vague direction in the recipe for Chipotle Biscuits with Cheddar. I think the Baked cookbook is better for cooks with some prior baking experience, as the recipes aren’t always precise, and thus need a little interpretation or tweaking for home use.

I saw the book Baked: New Frontiers in Baking recommended on Smitten Kitchen, one of my favorite food blogs. SK’s author, Deb, has a strange power over me. If she says make it, I do. Creamed spinach, yellow birthday cake, cherry brown butter bars, all butter pie crust, cornbread croutons… Her recipes are well-written and well-tested. So when she recommended Baked, I reserved it from the library. I’m now trying to make as many recipes from it as I can before I have to return it.

I had chipotle powder on hand after making the Baked Brownie, Spiced Up, so I started with the Chipotle Cheddar Cheese Biscuits:

I used a teaspoon, rather than a tablespoon, of the chipotle powder, which resulted in a light but definite spice. They tasted pleasantly of cheddar also. I found the recipe vague when it said to mix in the butter till the texture was of course sand. Did this mean it could have larger lumps, or should they all be sand-sized? I went in between, and the results were good. I like them best served warm with butter.

Why do movies come into the library in clumps? Can’t someone come up with an algorithm so that my movie requests are spread out, instead of avalanching on me three in one week? Coraline, based on Neil Gaiman’s young-adult novel, was the third DVD this week. Like Where the Wild Things Are, it’s based on a children’s book, but is better for older kids and adults. There’s scary stuff and creepy imagery.

Coraline and her inattentive parents move into an apartment complex peopled with strange characters, like a mouse-circus ringmaster and two aging stage performer sisters. Largely ignored by her parents, Coraline discovers a secret passage to a similar house, where she meets her “other mother.” The other mother looks and sounds like her mother, but nicer. She feeds Coraline good food and offers to play with her, things that don’t happen in Coraline’s regular life. Unsurprisingly, things at the “other” house turn out to be too good to be true:

Other Mother: You know, you could stay forever, if you want to. There’s one tiny thing we have to do first…

Coraline is a clever, engaging young heroine of the Miyazaki tradition in this stop-motion animation horror movie. The director, Henry Selick, also helmed The Nightmare Before Christmas. Watching, I was also reminded of The Triplets of Bellville and Pan’s Labyrinth. This is an intriguing, visually interesting twist on the “be careful what you wish for” admonishment.

Immediately on finishing Gardam’s Old Filth, I learned that her story collection The People on Privilege Hill contained a story with Old Filth himself, Edward Feathers. I was thrilled to “meet” him again, and by turns charmed, saddened and teased by the other stories in this collection. Gardam is an impressive writer, conveying much with spare prose. I hope it’s not long before I have the chance to read The Man in the Wooden Hat, a sort of prequel to Old Filth.