RAVE - Toast

Even the casual visitor to these pages will have noticed that I often start my reviews with an admission, framing the review with the caveat that I'm a Brit that's spent the past 14 years in San Francisco, or that I hate fish, or have a passion for Joy Division, and such stuff that may appear irrelevant, but to me necessary in order to show that there's usually a deep-rooted influence (or bias) to my opinions.

Today's admission is that I like Helena Bonham Carter. Really like her. In fact, I'm often reminded by Mrs. Page that I once revealed I even liked HBC when she was made up as a chimp in Planet of the Apes. That's hard core liking, in anybody's book.

With that said, Toast is a fabulous film. It's a true story based on the early life of Nigel Slater, who eventually became a renowned chef, writer, and TV food presenter in England.

The first half of the film started with Slater as a 9-year old living in Wolverhampton with his overbearing father and sickly mother. She was a hopeless cook, eschewing fresh meat and vegetables for anything in a can, and more often than not resorting to toast when other culinary efforts failed.

She suffered from and - this is not much of a spoiler, since it's telegraphed from the start - eventually dies from asthma. Enter Mrs. Potter (the still looking delectable at 45, Helena Bonham Carter), who starts out as their maid, and through excellent chef-ery and a penchant for real stockings and garter belts, winds up as Nigel's stepmother. Meanwhile, Nigel works on his own cookery skills, and he and Mrs. Potter compete heavily for his father's attention with their respective cooking.

Things don't end well for father and stepmother, and Slater Jr winds up in London as a trainee in the kitchens at The Savoy.

I had a smile on my face throughout the movie, and it was only partly due to HBC's stockings and garter belts. 

Only partly.

A great film, and heaven knows how you'll get to see it, as the lean British Film festival (with a small f) is almost done here.

RANT - Captain America

Now I know what it's like to spend $140m on dinner at a Swiss ski chalet ... 2 hours of wall-to-wall CHEESE.

A big cast of mostly unknowns, with the notable exception of Hugo Weaving as the evil Skull, Tommy Lee Jones as the harrumphing general, and a walk-on role (justly un-credited) at the end for Samuel L Jackson; a pointless appearance with an equally pointless eye-patch.

To its credit, the film spent the first 45 minutes on character-building, and to its dis-credit, the next one and a quarter hours doing nothing with those characters except firing bullets and pulse-weapons at them.

At least Captain America wasn't bitten by a radioactive hamster. Instead, Stanley Tucci playing the ex-Nazi-now-turned-and-working-for-zee-Americans injected a weedy Chris Evans with an industrial quantity of turbo-steroids. The resultant Captain America ended up with a pumped body and Olympic-caliber running and jumping skills.

All in all, the film came across as a blend of early James Bond and Inglorious Basterds, with neither of those example's wit or tension.

Oh, and the 3D didn't save it either.

RAVE: Trust

I shouldn't really post this review, as my lovely wife wanted to see this movie and now, with her out of the country, I saw it single.

Of course, her motives for wanting to see it - the fact that it starred Clive Owen - were entirely different to mine. I think Mr. Owen has aged badly over the last 13 years, since appearing as a suave Croupier, but there's not a shred of jealousy in that observation. Honest.

Trust tells the story of Owen's daughter, who is stalked by a texter who turns out to be much older than her 14 years. The family is torn apart when the inevitable happens, and thereafter divides its time between how father and daughter deal with the aftermath.

Now, I regularly diss Hollywood endings, but strangely, this movie would have been perfect if it had a Mel Gibson-style 'wronged daughter blasts offender with sawn-off shotgun' styled conclusion. It doesn't, but it's still an excellent film.

REVIEW - A Boy Called Dad

I guess that once you know Robbie is 14, and has just become a father - and you've remembered this is a British movie - then you know not to expect a fluffy ending.

The film is dour and depressing. The story, the dialog, the characters, even the weather, are all dour and depressing.

Ian Hart as Robbie's scouse father offers temporary respite, in that he's sharp and witty ...

Robbie: Where's Ireland?

Robbie's Dad (pointing out to sea): It's out there. On a clear day you can see Val Doonican.

... but eventually shows his real character. He's a loser, which is why he'd walked out on Robbie and his mother 12 years earlier. Very little time is spent on the other characters: the baby's mother, and step-father, and Robbie's own mother, which leaves the film somewhat flat.

Most reviews focus on the "unforgettable intimacy", and "heart-rending honesty", but watching this on my own at a stinky 'Art House' movie theater was a recipe for gloom. And so it turned out to be.

RANT - Budget Deficit

I'm no economist.

There, with that off my chest, I can rant.

Today's news that Apple Corp has more available cash than the USA should disgust anyone who has to put up with the daily bickering of adult men and women on both sides of the political Ultimate Fighting cage.

Apple now has more cash to spend than the United States government.

Latest figures from the US Treasury Department show that the country has an operating cash balance of $73.7bn (£45.3bn)

Apple's last financial statement put its reserves at $76.4bn.

The rest of the story drones on about the latest dull war of dull words by the dull government on blah, blah, blah.

Why doesn't the US Government just buy Apple, focus on launching the next generation iPhone and iPad, and shut down for the rest of the year? Or decade?

RANT - Barbacco

In some respects, this was better than I expected (their web site says, after you make a reservation "Note - most of our tables are counter seating or communal tables", when in fact it's like most downtown restaurants that cater to daytime city customers, rather than couples looking for a romantic tete a tete), but the food didn't quite live up to the well-written menu descriptions.

In other respects, we were let down. 

What we ordered sounded exotic and scrumptious, in a way that Californian / American menus can only sigh jealously at:

Suppli – mushroom risotto croquettes filled with truffled mozzarella 

Toasted almonds – rolled in chili sea salt

Ascalone – fried olives stuffed with pork

Bruschetta – with roasted peach, basil and prosciutto di parma

Prosciutti – with parma, san daniele, and la quercia salumis, and gnocco fritto

Brussels sprouts – fried in duck fat, with capers, anchovy, and red wine vinaigrette

Patate arrostite – rosemary roasted potatoes

Paccheri pasta – rustic pork ragu, and parmigiano reggiano

What we got was an assortment of overly salty, and otherwise so-so dishes.

The unnecessarily flashy drinks menus on iPads revealed a too brief list of 8 beers, 3 cocktails, and an interesting wine list. Unfortunately for me, I went for the 'Orange' wine flight, which turned out to be four pale orange colored 'white' wines, none of which I'd dream of ordering again.

Overall, a good-looking but otherwise unsatisfactory eaterie.

It was a good job my date was volcanically hot.

RAVE - 13 Assassins

I love movies with sub-titles. Ergo, I love foreign movies.

Last night Amo, Gareth and I peered up at the not-very-large screen in San Francisco's smallest theater, and loved 13 Assassins. Well, I say "loved" ..... Gareth and I really liked it, while Amo thought it was too long.

Admittedly, the first hour was spent in dimly-lit homes in 1840s rural Japan, watching Sir Doi recruit his team of samurai to kill the evil Lord Naritsugu Matsudaira. The second hour delivered what must be the longest sword fight in movie history.

Both halves of the film drew me in and captivated me.

Every fan cites "miles better than anything Hollywood has delivered lately", or similar sentiments. 

The battle, wherein Doi and team attempt to whup the evil Lord, came across like The Alamo, or Rorke's Drift in Zulu - absolute mayhem with a small group of our heroes defending against massive odds - in this case 13 Assassins versus 200+ Naritsugu-ers. 

Fine stuff, and if you believe the postscript, rooted in real history.

RANT - Mrs Page's Unique Ways

I was going to call this Pavey's Peccadilloes, but when consulting the dictionary to find out how many Cs, Ds  and Ls were in there, I learned that I've been using Peccadillo incorrectly ever since I was old enough to form a critical thought. 

I always believed that it described an interesting trait, but now learn it implies a slight fault. I have too many years of planned non-parenthood left to go risking it all by suggesting my darling wife has actual faults.

No, these are simply a few of the many ways she keeps me interested, captivated, and wondering what on earth she's going to come up with next.

These latest musings have been brewing for years, prompted perhaps as far back as 2001, when that wonderfully long list of his wife's wacky ways were recorded by a blogger before there were blogs. I forget the writer - shame on me - but hope you remember it going viral, and therefore who I'm talking about.

Anyway, what stirred me into action was when we debated last night about which movie to see tonight. Mrs P said "I want to see something that's playing at The Century".

"Shouldn't we first see what's on, then decide whether to see what's playing at The Kabuki, where we can reserve specific seats?" was the manly, logical reply from yours truly.

"But" - and here is where my wife-list starts - "they serve Kettle popcorn at The Century."

I've learned that an aversion to certain foods approaching a Vampire's view of garlic in the sun goes with the her Indian territorial roots. Pavey's brother, sister and father hold equally weird views about what they can and cannot eat. Yes, that's you Sandy and Rip! Father-in-law Ninder won't be reading this because they don't have the internet where he lives.

My otherwise perfect wife:

1. Will eat some, but never all of the crust on a slice of toast.
2. It's the same with many foods - she'll eat some, but never all of a potato skin.

3. Will demand EXACTLY 1/4 of a spoon of sugar in her tea, even though it has been scientifically proven (by me) that you can't tell if 1/4 of a spoon of sugar has actually been put into the cup, or  not.

4. Will only drink tea from the mugs with the thin handles, not the thick handles.

5. Will only drink cool tea, but will never drink chilled water. Her tea has to stand for 10 minutes before she'll sip it, while her half-drunk bottles of room temperature water litter the counter tops.

6. Will only eat Honey Nut Cheerios for breakfast. I call this out because I get shouted at if I come back from Safeway with $350 of weekly groceries but get, shock horror, regular Cheerios for her.

7. Will only eat Kettle popcorn from The Century - she doesn't like the kettle corn from Whole Foods.

8. Recently, when I slaved over a hot oven to make game hen stuffed with onion and garlic, and lovingly served her both hen breasts while I took the legs, she complained that I hadn't offered her a leg. That's like someone handing you the caviar off  their plate and complaining that they didn't give you the sour cream too!

What makes this list bearable, aside from my almost saintly demeanor? Pavey's assertion that if she wasn't here, those are the very traits that I'd miss.

Check mate.

REVIEW - International Football Snooze-fest

Soccer friendlies are often disappointing, and yesterday's game at AT&T Park, between a team I don't support, and a team I'd never heard of (Manchester City and Club America) was just that.

City at least fielded most of their full team - everyone except that arch complainer, Carlos Tevez. Admittedly, they substituted all 11 players at half time, which added to the air of surrealism. 

At least the Latino element of the 11,250 crowd made some noise: the drums and trumpets made it sound like a passionate game, even if the players didn't rise to the occasion.

The warm evening, Gareth's commentary, and the beers and tacos at Pete's Bar afterward meant the day was enjoyable, and confirmed my membership of the Manchester City, Who Cares? club.

The score? Irrelevant.

REVIEW - The Other Man's Grass is Spotify

I know it's only been available for a day or so in the US, but surely covers are there in order for us to judge books by them - or something like that.

There's been a lot of noise over the past couple of years about Spotify, the UK's equivalent of Pandora.com, and "why oh why can't we get it over here in the USA?" Of course, there's been equivalent reverse whining - "why oh why can't we get Pandora here in Europe?"

It all reminds me of that viral email going around a few years back, with a photo of some hot babe along with the banner: It doesn't matter how hot she is, someone, somewhere, is sick of her s**t.

Same here, with the salivating over Spotify. 

In the US, it's only available to invitees for now, but if you don't have one and can't wait, there are instructions at lifehacker.com describing how to do an end run around those restrictions.

Is it worth it all?

Well, aside from being able to factor your local music files into playlists along with those from Spotify, I don't see anything better in Spotify. In fact, the ads that litter the free version seem to be much more frequent and intrusive than the equivalent from Pandora.

I think I'll go and get my "Meh" tee-shirt out of the closet.

RAVE - Saved Whale Gives Thanks

A fabulous story about a small team of whale-savers in The Sea of Cortez (east side of Baja California) who free a humpback whale from the fishing net in which it was stuck.

After an hour of work, the whale is freed, and proceeds to celebrate and/or thank the team by performing 40 or so leaps out of the sea (what we whalers call "breaches").

The full video is here

RAVE - Pastafarian

Being very, very happily married to a Sikh movie starlet, I don't want to in any way offend my turban-toting in-laws and friends, nor (perish the thought) any of the more strident religious advocates, but I'd like to give a big shout out to the recent disciple of Pastafarianism.

This story comes from today's BBC News:

An Austrian atheist has won the right to be shown on his driving-license photo wearing a pasta strainer as "religious headgear". 

Niko Alm first applied for the license three years ago after reading that headgear was allowed in official pictures only for confessional reasons. Mr Alm said the sieve was a requirement of his religion, pastafarianism.

Later a police spokesman explained that the license was issued because Mr Alm's face was fully visible in the photo.

"The photo was not approved on religious grounds. The only criterion for photos in driving license applications is that the whole face must be visible," said Manfred Reinthaler, a police spokesman in Vienna.

He was speaking on Wednesday, after Austrian media had first reported Mr Alm's reason for wearing the pasta strainer.

After receiving his application the Austrian authorities had required him to obtain a doctor's certificate that he was "psychologically fit" to drive.

According to Mr Reinthaler, "the licence has been ready since October 2009 - it was not collected, that's all there is to it".

The idea came into Mr Alm's noodle three years ago as a way of making a serious, if ironic, point.

A self-confessed atheist, Mr Alm says he belongs to the Church of the Flying Spaghetti Monster, a light-hearted, US-based faith whose members call themselves pastafarians.

A medical interview established the self-styled "pastafarian" was mentally fit to drive

The group's website states that "the only dogma allowed in the Church of the Flying Spaghetti Monster is the rejection of dogma".

In response to pressure for American schools to teach the theory known as intelligent design, which some Christians favour as an alternative to natural selection, the Church of the Flying Spaghetti Monster wrote to the Kansas School Board asking for the pastafarian version of intelligent design to be taught to schoolchildren.

In the same spirit, Mr Alm's pastafarian-style application for a driving license was a response to the Austrian recognition of confessional headgear in official photographs.

The license took three years to come through and, according to Mr Alm, he was asked to submit to a medical interview to check on his mental fitness to drive but - straining credulity - his efforts have finally paid off.

It is the police who issue driving licences in Austria, and they have duly issued a laminated card showing Mr Alm in his unorthodox item of religious headgear.

RAVE - Cabo Battery Recharge

There are holidays where something memorable happens every day, or you visit one or more jaw-droppingly gorgeous sites each day. This past week wasn't like that.

This was our fourth trip to Cabo San Lucas, so we've already seen and done everything there is to see and do. And it's not a classy place. It's too close to America for that, and that proximity makes it more of a central American Benidorm, albeit somewhat hotter and spicier.

This trip was all about relaxing - avoiding anything work- or stress-related, and hanging with my honey.

Did I just write that? "Hanging with my honey?" Pavey won't mind being called "my honey", but Ivor Davies, my grammar school English tutor, would turn in his grave. They probably buried him with the blackboard eraser he used to throw at us Somerset bumpkins whenever we lapsed into our local accents, or used colloquialisms.

After 15 years' of living in the USA, I worry less and less about Americanization (see, I even use Zs automatically). But every now and then something slips out that has me re-focusing on my English for the following few days.

Anyhow, back to Cabo. It was ridiculously hot. Neither of us lay out in the sun once, but splashed around in the pool or hot tub, and read in the shade. The biggest effort of the day was expended debating where to go for lunch or dinner.

The picture is from the courtyard in a restaurant in Todos Santos, about 40 miles north of Cabo san Lucas, on the Pacific coast.

That review reads like the drivel you'd put on a postcard. Does anyone send postcards any more?

REVIEW - Submarine

If you grew up in England any time over the past 30 years, you'll remember The Secret Diary of Adrian Mole, Aged 13 3/4

The Secret Diary was the first book in the Adrian Mole series of comedic fiction, written by Sue Townsend. The book was written in a diary / journal style, and focused on the worries and regrets of a teenager who believes himself to be an intellectual. The story is set in the early 80s, and in the background it refers to some of the historic world events of the time, such as the Falklands War and the wedding of Prince Charles and Lady Diana. Apart from the events described in the diary, a lot of the book's humour originates from the unreliable narration of Mole, who naïvely, yet confidently, misinterprets events around him.

Now, that Mole review could've been the exact same as a review of this "new" movie, Submarine. And this time around, it wasn't as funny, witty, or enjoyable.

Shame.

RAVE - Camino, Oakland

After 14 years in California I've not yet made it to Chez Pannise (reportedly the best restaurant in the Bay area). But an ex-CP chef, Russell Moore now has his own place, Camino.

The menu is brief-ish, but very good.

Pavey started with salad (hazelnuts, beets, zucchini), and continued with Rib-eye and short rib. I started with Pig's head (i.e pork cheeks, cooked in light bread-crumbs) and rabbit terrine, then had something (for the life of me I can't remember what) with garbanzo beans and nettles.

We divided the Shaker lemon tart and Almond cake with roasted cherries and almond milk between us and our delightful hosts, Sue and Jen.

A laid back, comfortable, family vibe even when you're family lives 5,000 miles away.

REVIEW - Super 8

Looking at some of the reviews of Super 8, you'd be duped into believing it's an almost perfect movie.

The JJ Abrams-directed, Steven Spielberg-produced film surprised me by being more kid-centric than I expected. That centricity manifested itself in the loud, uncomplicated action, but - on the negative side - by inconsistencies and plot holes big enough to swallow the huge train wreck near the start of the film.

Overall, it was fun, but we spent the post-movie hour at Mel's Diner arguing about the shabby lack of attention to the more obviously flaky details.

I can't explain in any more detail without giving away the entire plot, so you'll just have to see it, and explain what the bloody point was in collecting all the debris from the train wreck, when all that was needed was to suck up all the refrigerators and cookers to the top of an old water tower.

There, I've given it all away now!

RAVE - Bottega, Yountville

Looking back over the Memorial weekend food and wine fest, it's clear that a RAVE from yours truly doesn't guarantee you'll like a particular eaterie.

I've RAVEd about Redd, Bardessono, and Bottega this past weekend, and yet they're each very different.

Bottega is a very touristy spot. TV Chef Michael Chiarelli wouldn't normally be on my "must visit" list, mainly (and possible unreasonably) because he annoys the crap out of me by always saying "carmelize", instead of "caramelize". Clearly, in order to earn tire-maker stars from me he needs to pronounce his recipes properly, not just cook them well.

While Redd is classic, international food perfectly executed with a light hand, and Bardessono is almost as good while being laid back almost to the point of coma, Bottega is big dishes of big country food. Each is worth a visit, with Redd being the outstanding pick.

RAVE - Bardessono, Yountville

Restaurant 3 of 4 over Memorial weekend in Napa was excellent despite being heavily fishy. 

I say "despite" because I normally don't care for fishy fish - I mostly pick the tempura at a sushi restaurant (that's now much I don't care for fish).

So, when we arrived at Bardessono to find they had a fixed menu that night, with scallops, swordfish and chocolate mousse I thought I might go straight for dessert.

But each course was a delight, with impeccable scallops (not fishy, rubbery, or tasteless), and equally scrumptious swordfish. I was convinced without being totally converted to choosing the seafood everywhere I go.

I don't know if Bardesonno is a spa first and a restaurant second, but there was a generally calm, if not ascetic vibe that night. Not conducive to kicking back, necking a bottle or two and celebrating. It was more reserved and reflective, even hushed.

Maybe if I'd spent the day slathered in mud, with cucumber slices on my eyes that's all I'd have wanted.

REVIEW - Etoile, Yountville

The Etoile restaurant at The Domaine Chandon winery in Yountville, is the only one of the 4 restaurants boasting a Michelin star that we visited over Memorial weekend, and they must have earned that for pretension.

When compared with Redd, Bardessono and Bottega, Etoile came fourth, by some margin.

Domaine Chandon is not one of the warmest wineries in Napa - it lacks a pleasing atmosphere, imagining that waistcoated waiters and overly complex dishes automatically count with diners.

Those dishes, amuse bouches and other fripperies didn't really hit the spot, and the atmosphere was akin to a waiting room at a truck stop in Outer Mongolia (cruel, I know, but it was DULL).

In Etoile's defence, we had gorged at Redd earlier in the day, and sampled wines at a few Napa wineries that afternoon, so maybe we'd already had too much of a good thing before our late dinner.

RAVE - Redd, Yountville

After being corrected by a waiter, to pronounce it Yontville, not Yountville, I was able to sit back and enjoy once again the all around fabulosity of this Napa town, and Redd in particular.

Definitely reserve a table outside, so you can soak up the rays along with the perfect food.

My Crispy Calamari, Cayenne Salt, Tamarind Sauce and Vietnamese Dressing appetizer, together with Crisp Duck Confit, Lentils, Foie Gras Meatballs, and Crispy Spaetzle may have revealed the chef's lack of a thesaurus (surely there are other words for 'crispy'?), but otherwise transported me to grub heaven, along with my Moscow Mule (cocktail, not meat dish!)

Pavey's Glazed Pork Belly, Apple Puree, Burdock, and Soy Caramel, followed by Braised Beef Shortrib, Bacon, Cipollini Onions, Fingerling Potatoes, and Red Wine Jus, just made me jealous.

Redd is one of those places where I'm tempted to order everything on the menu, and camp out there until I've eaten it all.

The Memorial weekend in Napa afforded us the opportunity to dine at 4 top notch establishments in 3 days, without begging for admission to French Laundry.

As some dyslexic marketer has probably already said, you can't spell paradise without Napa.

REVIEW - Animal Kingdon

This movie would've got a RAVE if it hadn't just been about the seemingly inevitable slide into crime experienced by the 17-year old Australian who is forced to move in with his grandmother and 3 criminal brothers when his mother dies.

But because it is just that, it makes this film somewhat miserable and therefore less than a RAVE.

After the death of his mother, 17 year old J must move in with his estranged grandmother and her three criminal sons. J soon finds himself at the center of a cold blooded revenge plot that will turn his family upside down and change his life forever.

Heavy stuff, made interesting because it was set in Melbourne, Australia, rather than Dayton, Ohio. They're just as nasty however, those Aussies.

RANT - Jaleo, in Washington DC

See my review of Cafe Atlantico for one of José Andrés' other restaurants in DC, and the one that is absolutely, completely and undeniably better than this horrible TGIF-like excuse for a top notch eaterie.

Jaleo looks, sounds and acts like a budget, city-center spot for office parties, and provides appropriately down-market food. Either celebrity chef Andrés intentionally set a low bar for food and service, or he's just not bothered to visit his own restaurant lately, but it was definitely not a place to which I'd return.

Being "high-end" tapas, our dinner included:

• Jamón Ibérico de bellota ‘Fermin’cured ham from the legendary, acorn-fed, black-footed Ibérico pigs of Spain. 
• Arroz de pato ‘Jean-Louis Palladin’ rice with duck confit, duck breast and foie gras cream.
• Tortilla de patatas al momento, spanish omelet with potatoes and onions cooked to order.

The food wasn't that bad, but was seriously let down by the ambiance.

RAVE - Cafe Atlantico, Washington DC

I don't know how to translate 1 win, 1 draw, and 1 loss into American sports stats, seeing as there's no such thing as a draw, or tie, in most sports here. So, I can't tell George he's 1.5 for 3 in his restaurant recommendations for Washington, DC.

Without doubt, his recommendation of Cafe Atlantico, or more specifically, of chef José Andrés, resulted in a fantastic night out at this Andrés Nuevo Latino restaurant in DC.

The nine course Chef's Tasting Menu dazzled, delighted and delicioused us, and made us completely forget about having to wait 20 minutes past our reserved table time. Well, alright, I didn't completely forget that bit. Nor did I forget my disappointment in seeing guests arrive after 9.30pm still dressed in shorts and other Saturday shopping gear. It's not that we were over-dressed (Mrs. Page as always looked drop-dead gorgeous, but I had forgotten my tuxedo and black tie), but it seemed somewhat disrespectful of the chef and restaurant to have made no effort whatsoever.

For being a James Beard Award-winning chef/owner, and celebrity TV chef, the two of his restaurants we tried in DC this week were hit and miss. For the "miss", and George's "loss", see my review of Jaleo DC. It was horrible!

REVIEW - PJ Harvey at The Warfield

This is a momentous post. No, that's not the line from 2001, when the astronauts come across the black monolith. But it's just as unusual.

I never thought I'd give a PJ Harvey performance anything less than a 'Rave', but last night the lady under-whelmed. The usually rock-steady performer seems to have contracted a bad case of the Mumfords, because her set was full of folk-friendly gentleness, acoustic instruments and that silly Autoharp she's sporting of late.

Would I have been one of those who boo'ed at Bob Dylan when he went electric? Maybe, but this seems different. I've got the latest CD, "Let England Shake", but haven't yet fallen in love with it enough to applaud the reverse trend, ditching a suggestively dirty vibe for the Pied Piperish-ness of the new PJ Harvey.

The critics universally applaud the new CD, but all talk about the theme, and the lyrics rather than the music.

Shame.

RANT - Country Strong

One little-discussed consequence of being a tender, considerate husband is having to watch the tripe the subject of that tender consideration decides to watch. 

Last night that tripe was Country Strong, a lame story of recovery and relapse into alcoholism and drugs for a country singer. Not a patch on Jeff Bridges in Crazy Heart, the novelty of Gwyneth Paltrow's singing voice quickly died under the weight of schmaltz and sugar - an apparently unavoidable pair of supporting elements in this film.

It was strange - although I wasn't anxious to hear him - the only recognized country singer in the film was Tim McGraw, and he didn't sing a note.

Perhaps it was inevitable that a film about possibly the dullest and least original music genre turned out to be dull and unoriginal.

RAVE - DC Tourists

I'm here in Washington, DC for 10 days. Pavey is here for the first 5, and my brother Lawrence for the last 4. Squeezed in there I've got a few days of work to do, at a trade show.

So, tourism, trade, tourism. The first few days have included The Washington Monument, The White House, The Lincoln Memorial, the Arlington Cemetery, the excellent Air and Space Museum, The US Capitol, and some very good restaurants.

Washington, DC is strangely (or not, depending on how many times you've been here) more like Paris in its tourist areas than any other US city. It's laid out intelligently and evenly, positively spacious and - at least over this past weekend - not too tangled up with traffic.

Admittedly, the buildings themselves are only 'inspired' by their European forebears, and there's an unavoidable sniff of Disney about them. I know that's horribly European of me to say that, but there are obelisks, statues, and columned monuments in every major European city, so it's unavoidable that DC's versions would be copies compared to the originals.

Nevertheless, it's good to have your picture taken 100 yards from the White House, through railings that make it appear like you're in a cell, looking out on the Presidential palace.

RANT - The Bad News Map

A tightly-written story about a new, interactive map giving real-time information about nasty stuff going on around the world, right now. 

So 'tight' in fact, that I'll link to it, and repeat it here.

Holy Crap - Is This Really Us?

An absolutely intense map of the world showing all the disasters going on, everywhere, right this minute - ranging from (as of 17:30 EST) Nuclear Events (Japan), Flash Flood (Brazil), Vehicle Accident (El Segundo, California), Explosion (Bostik Chemical Plant, Boston, MA), Fire (Brooklyn, NY), Volcano Eruption (Azerbaijan, Japan, Russia, Indonesia, Hawaii), Airplane Incident (an insane number, all over the US; fortunately, in almost none of them were there any persons "affected"), Epidemic (New River Valley, Roanoke, VA), Biological Hazard (Bangladesh), and on and on and on and on. With level of severity.

Just the list of earthquakes that have happened...today!...is staggering (though all of them of relatively low numbers): Wyoming, Turkey, Greece, Iran, Taiwan, Poland, New Zealand, Kazakhstan...

A fascinating, terrifying, fascinating website out of Hungary. Thank you. Damn you. Thank you.

Like it or not, we're all in this together.

(Oh, yeah - the news scrawl reports "Ice sheets melting faster than earlier estimates." Anyone have a blanket to hide under?)

REVIEW - Battle: LA

Another thumbs up / thumbs down movie.

Her ladyship loved the movie (which was a big surprise, seeing as it was jerky hand-held camera and non-stop explosions) while I was less than wowed by the initially impressive but subsequently indistinct SFX. 

There was a lame attempt to build characters in the first 10 minutes, but thereafter it was a noisy melee.

If you liked Transformers or Skyline, you'll like this. If you liked District 9, Battle: LA will disappoint you.

All in all, the trailer is better value for money than watching the whole movie. Shame.

RAVE - Fifth Floor

This is a restaurant that I hear way too little about.

It may be because it's out of street view, on the fifth floor of The Palomar Hotel here in SF. There's not even a decent sign at street level.

To show how much she adores me, (and to partly atone for treating me like dirt the rest of the year), Mrs. Page took me to Fifth Floor last night.

This used to be a special place for special celebrations - like my birthday. We've been here twice before, for previous birthday and anniversary celebrations, but something's happened to the magic that used to accompany meals here.

The company was just as magical, and my meal ....

Hot and Cold Sonoma Foie Gras
bergamot marmalade, caramelized apple, calvados, toasted almonds

Brillat-Savarin Ravioli
Brillat-Savarin Ravioli hedgehog mushrooms, sage, brown butter, walnut pesto, wilted chicories

Roasted Lamb Loin and Confit Belly
farro, golden raisins, black radish, black garlic, argan oil, harissa jus

... was perfectamundo, while Pavey's ....

Asparagus Soup

Local Halibut Crudo
cara cara, yuzu, fennel, radish, mint, ice wine-soy vinaigrette


Slow Cooked Squab 
confit leg, black trumpet mushrooms, house cured pancetta, root vegetables, salmis sauce

wasn't :(

The squab let the meal down, by being waved in the general direction of the oven, rather than being properly cooked. She made a point of asking for it to be medium well done, but the kitchen found that too much for them.

Ah well, we'll pick somewhere else for the next special celebration.

RAVE - Fewer Great White Sharks!

Not that I'm an anti-ecologist, but in among the bad news of global warming, food shortages and disappearing butterfly species comes some good news, about lower than expected numbers of Great White Sharks.

Now, I don't know why they're 'great', and they're more grey than white, but it doesn't really matter about those details, just so long as there are fewer of them around when my cruise liner goes down in the Pacific.

According to a survey published today, "Far fewer great white sharks are cruising the waters off California than previously thought, according to researchers who conducted a unique shark census in the northeastern Pacific Ocean".

This picture, apparently of a shark having eaten a basketball team, and now pursuing the basketballs, shows just how nasty they are (er, sharks, not Lakers' players). 

I guess no-one needs reminding of that, although whenever I think of the Jaws films I'm reminded of the fabulous spectacle of going as a family to see the first Jaws movie, and seeing my Dad leaning waaaay back in his seat as the shark grappled with the rear of the fishing boat and stuff started to slide down the deck towards the shark.

RAVE - The Adjustment Bureau

Despite being advertised as a thriller, this is a love story, and a bit of a fairy-tale one at that.

Based on a Philip K. Dick short story. 9 of Dick's stories have been made into movies, including Blade Runner, Minority Report, and A Scanner Darkly.

This one's about Fate, and how The Adjustment Bureau (angels, basically) follow certain subjects and do things to keep people on the path to which they're fated.

Matt Damon is a politician who meets and falls in love with Emily Blunt, a dancer and choreographer. Trouble is, they're not fated to stay together, so The Bureau keeps interfering to break them up and keep them apart.

I couldn't give away the happy ending - oops, I've done it.

So, despite it being a fairy-tale love story, it's a great story and a well-made film.

REVIEW - Colombia

OK, it was only one night, but it was Colombia.

Horrible traveling that far for such a short stay ... 6am flight from San Francisco, 6 hours to Miami, change planes and a further 5 hours to Bogota. With transfers and time difference, it meant getting into my hotel at 11pm, just as the bar was shutting. All the warnings about crime meant I wasn't about to go bar-hopping, so that was that.

An early start the following morning, giving some training in the IBM office, and at mid-day I was back in a taxi to the airport, for the same butt-shredding return journey.

Got home at half past mid-night on Friday, and spent the weekend trying to sleep my way back to perkiness.

What was Bogota like? Damned if I know.

REVIEW - Unstoppable

Provided you accept the facts: this is a movie about a runaway train, and there's only one way Hollywood can make a movie about a runaway train (i.e. the hero(es) stop it from running away) - this is decently-made, and at times exciting.

It breaks no new ground (alright, I've never seen a train cornering so fast its inside wheels are off the ground), so I'm not sure "exciting" is the right word, but at least the photography is excitingly sharp and direct.

Denzel trots out his usual character, and no-one else really matters (even his co-heroes).

Quite why it made sense for a couple of helicopters to duck and dive either side of the front of the train as it careened towards disaster is anybody's guess. At least it provided bases for the film's camera crews.

All in all, as good as could be expected, I guess.

REVIEW - Cafe des Amis

When there's so much competition, at every level - low-end cheap 'n nasty right up to pricey and pretentious - it's not difficult to criticize an elegant, relative newcomer to the SF restaurant scene.

The look at Cafe des Amis is just a bit too good, almost perfect. Why's that a problem? Because it's meant to be a French bistro, and no real, French bistro looks this good. 

Surprisingly, the food was nowhere near as precious. It's not haute cuisine; it's down an intentional notch or two from that. It's more provincial, country-side or neighborhood French, with the good and bad that brings.

The clam Pavey ordered for her appetizer was mostly raw, despite the explicit instructions she gave to our waiter. My truffled gnocchi was wonderful. Pav's Cassoulet (slow cooked tondini bean casserole with duck confit, bacon, garlic sausage and pork shoulder) was - according to the gourmande herself, fabulous but "too much food". My Choucroute Garnie (pork belly and loin, braised bacon, frankfurter, potatoes, carrots and sauerkraut) was waaaaaay too salty. I couldn't tell if there were any other flavors being masked by the overpowering saltiness, but I don't feel inclined to give them the benefit of the doubt.

The wine list was bereft of anything under $70, so our $90 Vosnes-Romanee while excellent, was used literally to wash down the salty surfeit.

RAVE - Unknown

While not being entirely original (I heard before and after the movie, from different people, that it had all been done before by The Gubernator in True Lies), this was still an absorbing Hitchcock / Bourne type of thing.

Liam Neeson plays a scientist visiting Berlin with his wife, in order to speak at a conference. They get to their hotel, and he realizes he's left his briefcase at the airport. While she checks in, he returns to the airport, but en route his taxi gets involved in an accident and ends up in the river. He is rescued and spends 4 days in a coma in hospital, but when he regains consciousness and heads off to the hotel to reunite with his wife, everyone (including the wife) says they don't know who he is. There's even another person with his name at the conference.

The story unfolds at a healthy pace, and the action is non-stop. Not much wrong with this at all, except for that nagging feeling that we've seen this before.

RAVE - Angie Stone, at Yoshi's SF

This is mostly a RAVE because Pavey liked the show 10 times as much as I did.

That doesn't mean I didn't enjoy the event - Angie Stone has possibly the best female voice I've ever heard live, and the venue (Yoshi's, San Francisco) is perfect - but R&B is not my thang, and un-funky R&B even less so. And I didn't recognize ONE single tune the lady sang all night. How sad is that?

It was still great fun though. Stone's backing band and singers were top notch, and did I say the venue is perfect?

REVIEW - Clybourne Park

We were tempted here to the American Conservatory Theater by reviews of Clybourne Park - "verbal firecrackers; dialogue explodes across the stage", "tour de force exchange", ".. the roots of America's racial divisions are as deep and complexly intertwined as those of the tree in the garden of the crumbling house".

The glowing reviews were widespread, the awards many. So what happened? Last night's production was sold out, yet massively underwhelmed.

The idea, that a slowly-building story set in a 1950s house where the owners are about to move out and make way for black buyers, only really works if the 'slow' gets faster. While 20 minutes of the second act was genuinely rapid-fire stuff, the rest of the two hours was tedious, unfunny (it was billed as a comedy), and broke no new ground whatsoever.

Theater pickings are slim, hence the sold out mediocrity.

RAVE - Twenty Five Lusk

Ditch the cramped tables where we sat, and the loud-mouthed jerks on either side, and you've got a top-notch eaterie.

The place looks super-stylish, lights set low, great layout upstairs and downstairs, good-looking kitchen surrounded by glass - a real treat all around.

I had the gnocchi and short rib to start, and the duck confit to finish, while my hostess had the tomatillo, avocado and lobster soup (with some out-of-place banana in there too), then the gnocci and short rib to finish. That lot was a) saucy, b) tasty, and c) priced well.

All in all a well above average restaurant that felt perhaps a bit over the top for a quiet snack on a school night, but .....

RAVE - Quince (Again)

David and Felicia gave us a wonderful gift card for dinner at Quince, just after Christmas when they left San Francisco to return again to their new home in Detroit.

Lucky us, unlucky them is what I'm thinking.

Quince once again proved to me that it's the best restaurant in SF. Better than pretentious Minna, better than touristy Danko's, better than dreary, old Masa's, and better than everything else.

The entire experience at Quince is superb, from the luxurious pre-dinner bar and drinks area with excellent servers, through the superb tables in the sounds-just-right dining rooms, with more excellent staff.

The clientele may feature more of the elderly suits and jewels than we'd normally relax with, but I guess they have to eat somewhere. And the 18 aging Mafioso celebrating someone's 120th birthday (or at least he looked 120) was having fun along with everyone else.

And how could anyone not have fun here: the food is faultless. From our amuses bouches - steelhead sashimi with truffled mushroom shot glass accompaniment - through Pavey's scallops, agnolotti, and rabbit, and my farm egg, Fazzolettini, and beef, everything was stupendous.

How many places can you eat where 7 of 7 dishes are perfect?

And if you say Burger King, you're posted to Detroit!

RANT - Never Let Me Go

I'd never heard of Kazuo Ishiguro's novel, let alone read it. But if I had read the book, I almost certainly wouldn't have wasted nearly two hours mind-numbingly bored by watching the movie.

The children we follow as they grow up are clones - or in the film's parlance, "modeled on" people who want to keep the living, breathing spare parts around for when they might need them.

Knowing their status placed them in a very miserable position, and they did nothing during the film - nor presumably the book, to lighten things one bit. They know their days are numbered, and in one or more "episodes" they will be operated upon and farmed for their organs.

If they had only done something about their situation - Pavey suggested they track down their models, and kill them. I, much more lovingly, suggested they hightail it to Montevideo, or somewhere else no-one can place on a map.

Either way this was a dreadful experience, for the clones and us poor viewers.

RANT - The Last Exorcism

OK, what did I expect? No known actors, a lame premise, and probably the worst film quality ever - even worse than Blair Witch, which at least had a point to the bad quality.

The Rev. Cotton Marcus (yes, "Cotton"!) is a sham preacher in Baton Rouge. "Sham" because he admits he performs fake exorcisms - all pre-recorded noises and not very special effects. He agrees to do one Last Exorcism in front of a camera crew, who turned out to be a couple of shaky-handed fools with a camera but not lighting.

Cliche-ridden (aren't they all?), ultra low budget (and it showed), content-free, and a huge waste to time.

Good job Pavey was out with the ladies and I was stuck home with a man cold.

RANT - Twelve

Twelve is a drug, dealt around rich white kids in New York. White Mike is a dealer. His cousin is wrongfully arrested for shooting NaNa, a black kid he used to play ball with.

That's about all that happens in the first hour. Aside from some annoying voice-over to help us through the straight lines in the shallow plot.

A lame attempt to thicken that plot came from White Mike's family, but I'm getting bored just adding that detail to this post. Definitely not worth the price of admission, so somewhat of a shocker that it was directed by the normally reliable Joel Schumacher.

Er, that's about it. Skip it.

RAVE - Stone

If you ignore the dreadful series of Fockers movies, you'd have to say that anything with Robert De Niro and Edward Norton facing off would be a sure-fire winner. And Stone is.

De Niro plays a prison officer reviewing prisoners up for parole. Edward Norton plays an arsonist looking to get paroled. Norton wants to improve his chances of getting released, so talks his wife (Milla Jovovich) into seducing De Niro and presumably then blackmailing him into signing Norton out.

Even though there are only a couple ways this could've turned out, I was left guessing right to the very end.

There's a back-plot - images of insects caught between window and screen suggesting Mr and Mrs De Niro and/or Mr and Mrs Norton are trapped in their marriages, but that line of misery doesn't get in the way of a good bit of suspense.

Probably a bit slow for some, and certainly too slow to be described as a thriller, but strong, deep, and rewarding. 

Just don't let the man sign up for any more Fockers rubbish.

RAVE - Downton Abbey

With so many years of TV productions of classic British literature (Upstairs Downstairs, Onedin Line, Jane Eyre et al), the idea of yet another - this one called Downton Abbey - didn't generate much initial excitement in the Page-Purewal household.

But how wrong we were. Having now watched all 4 episodes of the series, I can say this is right up there with Gosford Park. In fact, I kept expecting GP characters to pop up in the busiest Downton Abbey scenes.

The story, strangely enough, doesn't really matter. A disgustingly wealthy Earl, his wife, 3 daughters, mother and household full of servants, go about their daily lives in the build up to World War 1. But so what? There have been hundreds of movies, plays and TV series around that basic storyline. 

What separates this production from everything but Gosford Park is the fabulous wit, depth, and clarity of the script. The standout roles and lines come from Robert Crawley, The Earl of Grantham (played by Hugh Bonneville), Mr. Carson, the Butler (played by Jim Carter), and the fabulous Violet, Dowager Countess of Grantham (played by Maggie Smith). 

One example of how Maggie Smith's sarcasm is put to excellent use is when she's discussing with her daughter-in-law what can be done about finding a husband for her wayward grand-daughter: "One can usually manage to find an Italian who isn't too picky." 

It's worth watching this whole 4-hour series, either on Comcast (or equivalent cable) on demand, or on DVD.