Thai Thai Again

Monday after bingo, we explored Destin Commons (one of those new [old]-fashioned shopping malls set up as an ersatz neighborhood--which means wherever you park you're a long hike in the glaring sun from everything but your first destination) on the way to the Rave movie theatre, a very cool operation w/digital sound & imaging--and comfortable seats. We saw Burn After Reading, amusing light entertainment with an hystertical performance by Brad Pitt. The film was built around the notion of the "cluster fuck" (a term ultimately used by one of the characters), a concept E considers to aptly characterize the Social Security Administration with whom she had had recent dealings. One of the pleasures/adventures associated with moving, since one must change one's address, are encounters with on-line updating systems ("misspell" your mother's maiden name three times and you're out) followed by telephonic automated systems, equally wrong about the spelling of your mother's maiden name, finally yielding a human being whose only excuse for your mail being addressed to 31 Dark Break Court is that her job is minimum wage. In the film, Frances McDormond, in search of the surgeries she needs to "reinvent" herself, works through similar rungs of telephonic hell, repeating A-Gent, A-GENT! several times. Yesterday, S heard E on the phone saying A-GENT! herself: life/art/etc.

After the movie, we went in search of one of the two local Thai restaurants with good reviews, The Royal Orchid. On the way there, and growing uncertain that we might have missed it, we stopped at The Thai Elephant instead. But it was closed. Having resolved that we would try the newish Italian joint up 393 from Daybreak Court, we happened upon The Royal Orchid and slammed into a parking place, hungry for Pad Thai and Green Curry. Which we ordered, along with a couple of appetizers: spring rolls and shrimp wrapped in wonton skins and fried. The most wonderful thing about the restuarant was that one could, given the right knees, sit on cushions on the floor around square tables. Plus also: darling little fabric sleeves for one's silverware. The food was just okay. Nothing tasted quite as we expected it would, but nothing tasted bad exactly. Not what we were craving, for sure.

Last night we ate in, S preparing a dish she watched Giada De Laurentis whomp up, Eggplant Timbale. What a mess S made! Grilling eggplant, boiling pasta, grating cheese--all before any actual composition of the dish can begin. It looks pretty and tasted fine, but neither so pretty nor so tasty that we're keeping the recipe around... Give us Shepherdess Pie any day!