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It is so difficult to make a neat job of killing people with whom one is not on friendly terms
Tonight's culinary experiment: beef Wellington. Success!
Then we watched Kind Hearts and Coronets (1949), so it was either a tremendously English evening or just a nice finish to a day that included an afternoon with my best cousins. (I am unable to determine from cursory research whether beef Wellington is an authentically British recipe; sources seem to differ, and I got this version from Gourmet. It was surprisingly uncomplicated to make.) The discovery of a Hellenistic temple to Bastet is not more awesome than civil-engineering slime mold, but it does make me happy.
Gotten from several people, as is probably appropriate: reply to this post and I'll tell you one reason why I like you. Then, if you feel like it, go forth and do the same.
Then we watched Kind Hearts and Coronets (1949), so it was either a tremendously English evening or just a nice finish to a day that included an afternoon with my best cousins. (I am unable to determine from cursory research whether beef Wellington is an authentically British recipe; sources seem to differ, and I got this version from Gourmet. It was surprisingly uncomplicated to make.) The discovery of a Hellenistic temple to Bastet is not more awesome than civil-engineering slime mold, but it does make me happy.
Gotten from several people, as is probably appropriate: reply to this post and I'll tell you one reason why I like you. Then, if you feel like it, go forth and do the same.
no subject
Had you seen KHaC before?
no subject
Yes, but not since my family lived in Arlington ( ≈ nineteen years). I suspect it was my introduction to Alec Guinness, not that I would have been able to recognize him at that age from eight different characters. It holds up incredibly well—I know there are recent films with an equally devil-may-care attitude toward the sympathy of their protagonists, but I'll have to think of them, and I don't think the ending could be improved in any way.
You were one of the few people I met at Yale who spoke my language. This is not unrelated to your habit of conversing macaronically in German.