Is this turning into a baking blog? I really don’t know.

At some point during the years I’ve been blogging, I’ve fantasized about having a baking or food blog, and then having said blog land me a book deal a la Julie & Julia, but there’s just too many things I love in life to narrow it down. Maybe someday when I grow up.

Back to food. You are looking at a white chocolate raspberry cheesecake with chocolate graham cracker crust made for two dear friends on their coinciding birthday.

Cheesecakes aren’t my favorite thing to eat (blasphemy) but people seem to love them. They’re just too rich for me - one bite and I feel full, but I have no qualms about baking them. You see that raspberry sauce on top? Made from scratch.

Nothing gave me greater pleasure than being able to swirl those raspberry blobs into hearts, especially after a long and tiring day.

And because I am going to have some long and tiring days ahead of me in the next few weeks, I wont be baking or writing here - but when it’s over, I’ll have a lot to share. Perhaps in the meantime I can finally nail down a niche for this lovely space of mine. Until then, au revoir.

Here’s to new beginnings.

Despite my penchant for foreign and independent films, my piano training and love of listening to opera while cleaning, I have a special place in my heart for mediocrity. What I mean by that is when things are so bad that they spontaneously combust and switch sides to become INCREDIBLY AWESOME.

This is the reason that I recommend you go watch the masterpiece that is “Blame it On Rio.” I’m still mad at the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences for not giving credit where credit is due - Blame it On Rio is  cinematic gold. This is also the reason that I have spent many a Saturday night watching “Cheaters” with Joey Greco and his soul patch beckoning at me through the television screen. And also why I recognize the existent of Arsenium - Moldovan popstar and dreamboat.

These are the reasons that there’s something wrong with me.

My love of mediocre arts and entertainment is precisely one of the reasons why I indulge myself in the kitsch and camp world of Bollywood. If you thought the Western world was cheesy enough, you have absolutely nothing until you’ve seen an Indian film. Preferably with Abhishek Bachchan.

I am not a fan of people who don’t “get” mediocrity or cringe at the thought of watching “Real Housewives of Atlanta” (Who gonna check me boo?) or renting a too bad for its own good 80s flick. It’s nice to be low brow once in a while. It’s nice to indulge in guilty pleasures and watch the crappiest television show that’s on at the moment.

I have to mention though, that this special category that of awesomely bad or badly awesome pop culture does not apply to phenomenons like “The Hills” or “The Bachelor” or the Keenen Ivory Wayans movie franchise. The aforementioned are not awesomely bad, they are just plain bad, mostly because they either fail at being awesomely bad or they think they’re some kind of classy institution. Anything that shoots Heidi Montag and Spencer Pratt straight to fame and into our houses is nothing but evil. And I didn’t even have to look up how to spell the names of that overexposed fame-whoring couple, that’s how bad they’ve permeated by brain.

So skip the really bad MTV shows and watch something like COPS. Oh COPS. I can’t get enough of it. Another personal favorite of mine? The Nanny.

I am probably one of five people on Earth that relishes in Fran Drescher’s excruciatingly annoying cackle. Mistahhhh Shefieeeeeeeeeeeeeeld. Love it.

The bottom line is, embrace the cheese. You can do it. Embrace it, love it, knit a sweater for it. You wont regret your choice, because really, life doesn’t need to be taken so seriously, mediocrity, while bad, is a good thing.

I was making my long and tedious drive to work this morning and between all the cars in front of me and the glorious view that the 10 freeway offers of industrial Los Angeles I spotted a digital billboard that I seem to pass all the time but only fully took notice of today, frankly because it had a huge photo of Dr. Oz, another one of Oprah’s prodigy, and flashing text telling me to watch the Dr. Oz show. That’s happening LIVE. RIGHT NOW.

Dude. I’m driving. You’re a billboard over a freeway, you should know this. What do you want me to do, make a break for the nearest exit, sit in more traffic until I arrive home, pour myself another cup of tea and wait for Dr. Oz to come on and tell me about erectile dysfunction and heart burn?

WHAT DO YOU WANT ME TO DO, BILLBOARD.

No, as much as I’d like to turn around I can’t. As much as I want to take part in your graduation from Oprah’s stage to your own, I don’t have the time. You should know this, you’re a billboard.

And frankly, if I was going to turn around and go home, you better believe I’d be tuning into the  hot mess that is the Maury Povich show. I cannot afford to miss a “You are NOT the Father!” proclamation because Dr. Oz wants to teach  me about hypertension. No way. I have my priorities straightened out, as you can tell.

But, seriously billboard - I don’t take too kindly to your shenanigans and I’m sure the thousands of cars around me don’t either, what in between spewing out colorful language with their windows rolled up, mind you, to the motorcyclists that zoom by windows (they deserve it) and trying their hardest not to drive their vehicles off a cliff because they just. can’t. take. it. anymore.

And you know what else? Just WTF are you doing on a freeway anyway? I mean, am I not meant to be looking straight ahead so I don’t become a Los Angeles casualty instead of looking at you? Why do you tempt me with your smooth LCD display and blinding neon graphics. Why must you call out to me with a dapper looking Dr. Oz in a  sexy lab coat and elvine ears.  DO YOU WANT ME TO DIE?

Stop everything you’re doing. Leave work. Put the croissant you’ve stuffed in your mouth down. Get out of that shower as fast as you can, because I’m about to tell you about something great, about something more than great, about something that will BLOW YOUR MIND. Are you sitting down? I hope so, because you need to absorb all the awesomeness of an amazing piece of cinema called “Love is All There Is” starring an obscure  and demure actress by the name of Angelina Jolie. Heard of her? Didn’t think so.

“Love is All There Is” is a spin on the classic  Romeo and Juliet tale, except for the fact that its set in  Bronx in the 90s ( can you smell the cheese yet?). Lainie Kazan from My Big Fat Greek Wedding and Joseph Bologna ( from the best movie ever made, Blame It On Rio) star as the Cappamezzas, a Bronx-born Sicilian husband and wife who own a catering business. And oh, what a catering business it is.

Imagine every single thing you could put together at a wedding that would fall into the category of bad taste. Fog machines, overdone humongous cakes, disco balls, hundreds of balloons, a cheesy band dressed in all white-the possibilities are really endless. This is the service the Cappamezzas provide and they’re pretty good at it too, that is, until the Malacicis, (Paul Sorvino and Barbara Carrera) the Italian couple from Florence who are the epitome of wealth and prestige arrive in their humble neighborhood and turn the crass to class with their elegant decorations, fine Italian menus and classical music.

The Cappamezzas and Malacicis soon transform themselves into the dueling Capulets and Montagues and as predicted, their son Rosario (Nathaniel Marston) falls head over heels in love with the Malacici’s daughter, Gina a.k.a. Angelina Jolie, after she replaces the lead in the church’s production of, you guessed it, “Romeo and Juliet.” She is just as enamored with Rosario and one thing leads to another until both pairs of parents find out that the two teenagers have done the unthinkable - committed suicide. Just kidding! The unthinkable in this case would be sex.

The film is filled with other colorful characters, including a wacky psychic that Rosario’s mother looks to for information, the well endowed bride above and local teenage girls who give Gina sex advice.

I know what you’re thinking- “What a crappy, badly-written 90s comedy.” Well, in the broader sense you’re right, but throw your cultural compass out the window for now. “Love is All There Is” is laugh out loud funny and terrible under-appreciated. Whether you’re laughing at something that’s actually humorous, or you’re laughing to keep from crying about how bad it is, it doesn’t matter. The point is, it will make your day better. It’s the kind of film that you happen to come upon at 9 p.m. on a Saturday night when you’re bored out of your mind and your head is telling you tos “change the channel NOW,” but you can’t, because it’s just so good. or bad. Or so bad that it’s good.

“You didn’t have sex did ya?”

“No, they were bobbing for apples.”

Photos© 1999 The Samuel Goldwyn Company

In a column in the New York Times yesterday, writer Stephen Holden discussed how the final of a long drawn out season of American Idol that never seems to end raised one extra question:

the overhyped media question of the moment is whether the country is ready to hand the crown to an androgynous, seemingly gay 27-year-old fireball from San Diego

Well, we have the answer, and that is, no, America is not and was not ready to handle Adam Lambert, perhaps the most unique and entertaining contestant to ever grace the American Idol stage- someone who I liken to a modern day Liberace, with a slight hint of Eddie Munster and a whole lotta Freddie Mercury.

It might have been Kris Allen’s roaring rendition of Kanye West’s “Heartless,” it might have been his home grown, boy next door appeal, or it could have simply been that he was better.

Except that he wasn’t.

In the 2 hour finale, Adam, clad in metal wings, platform boots, and all the black eyeliner CVS had in stock, took the stage and performed with none other than KISS. His pixie hair swaying between bursts of flame, he stood next to Gene Simmons and looked like he was home.

Between the subdued melodies and unoriginal interpretations of songs that fell flat, Adam was the type of contestant that made you excited about music. “I have ideas,” he declared. And he was right. With amazing renditions of “Mad World” by Tears for Fears, “Born to Be Wild” and “Play That Funky Music” by Wild Cherry, it’s no surprise that Adam performed last on more than one occasion - he was not one to be followed.

But beyond his far reaching voice (complete with full view of his tonsils), Adam wasn’t able to catch the vote far enough to make it to the top. As Stephen Holden pointed out yesterday, it’s just the way American Idol works.

But the kind of talent “American Idol” promotes is a known quantity. The show would never introduce, nor could it ever create, the next Bob Dylan, whose nasal voice, to use a favorite “American Idol” word, is too pitchy. As often as not, the dictum to put a new spin to an old song results in the kind of confusion that made the renditions by Danny Gokey (this year’s No. 3) of Aerosmith and Joe Cocker hits unfocused travesties.

Maybe an Adam Lambert upset was inevitable. Maybe (or definitely) Adam, with his theatrics, over the top performances and one of a kind outfits wasn’t a fit for this competition at all.

The answer to Holden’s question still remains the same - America wasn’t ready for Adam. The country voted in the right man for president, you think they could have gotten American Idol right, but such was not the case unfortunately.

Despite this, there are high hopes for a full fledged career in music, and I’m pretty sure he wont disappoint. There’s always a renewed type of hope for those that come in second or third - just look at Chris Daughtry. After millions of copies of his self-titled debut sold , he was nominated for a Grammy for Best Rock Song for “It’s Not Over.”

So Adam, don’t despair. It’s better this way. Trust me.

Popular television and movie streaming site Hulu has a Bollywood section. As soon as I found out, I almost reenacted Aishwarya Rai’s entire dance sequence from Hum Dil De Chuke Sanam. ALMOST.

Though the selection isn’t extensive in the least bit, it does carry the following five notable films:

Sarkar (2005) - Basically the Hindi “Godfather,” starring Amitabh (aka “Big B”) and Abhishek Bachchan, which I guess I could call “Little B.”

Dhaai Akshar Prem Ke (2000) -  More or less a remake of “A Walk in the Clouds” starring Bollywood power couple Abhishek Bachchan and Aishwarya Rai

Deewana (1992) - Sharukh Khan’s debut film revolves around a “Cast Away” type romantic plot, where the supposedly-deceased first husband of a young widow reappears after she is married again.

Hulchul (2004) - Starring Kareena Kapoor and Akshay Khanna, “Hulchul” chronicles the reconciliation of brothers who break an oath of singledom by marrying. As always, chaos ensues.

Hera Pheri (2000) - “Hera Pheri” also known as “Monkey Business” is about three unemployed friends who accidentally intercept a ransom demand and come up with the idea to make money off the misunderstanding.

The quality is great and best of all there’s English subtitles (!!!), a treasured rarity you will not find when trying to stream most Hindi films online. The only downside is that you can’t view these (or any other Hulu vid) if you’re located outside the U.S.  I’m a bit puzzled as to why these particular films were chosen,  but this is a brave step Hulu, very brave. Here’s to hoping more get added in the future.

You haven’t watched the best television of your life until you’ve watched Wife Swap. And you haven’t experienced the amazingness that is Wife Swap until you’ve watched one particular episode, where the cultured and worldly Mrs. Hess-Webb from San Francisco has to switch places with a woman whose family, the Haigwoods, lives on a self-sustaining farm, 90 miles from the nearest city in rural Iowa and abides by a raw animal food diet. But wait, There’s more! The family doesn’t believe in using conventional methods to clean their abode because things like bleach and other cleaning agents kill good bacteria as well as bad. So what do they do instead? Nothing! They don’t clean! This one is a doozy. It’s even better than God Warrior, who is from Trading Spouses, not Wife Swap, but they might as well be the same show. It’s everything you could ask from television and more. And I’m amazed and dumbfounded that it took a day of being sick at home to finally discover this gem of fine television programming from 2007.

I think it’s time for more details, don’t you? Well, in addition to following a raw meat diet, the Hagwoods also eat their eggs raw, sometimes up to 12 a day, according to their son. It’s a good thing I remembered they have children, because guess what? They don’t go to school. That’s right! Mrs. Haigwood thinks school is “boring” and feels that she’s giving her kids everything they need to learn when they work their 10 hour shifts on their farm. “I practice math by counting the chicken’s eggs,” declares their son. Oh dear OH DEAR.

If that wasn’t enough for you, the Haigwoods get up around 2 a.m. every night to ingest what I believe was kefir, which is a fermented milk drink, before resuming sleep.

I can safely and honestly say that I watched this entire episode with my mouth open, baffled by the ahem “traditions” of both families, and while I sympathize with the Hagwoods on the war they wage against chemicals, artificial and processed food and agree with the idea that everyone should be educated about where their food (especially animal products) come from and how they’re prepared, there were just too many things I couldn’t ignore - like the blatant disregard for education and not cleaning their home, um, thing. The Hess-Webbs weren’t that much better, with an extraordinary amount of time and emphasis they put on their appearance and clothes and eating out multiple times a week. Mrs. Haigwood was the better sport of the two  as she went along with pretty much everything to adjut to the Hess-Webb’s lifestyle, while the other wife did not take part in the raw food diet or even sleep in their, albeit disorganized and filthy house.

I’d really love for Wife Swap to create a “Where Are They Now” edition because, well, you know those are always fun to watch, especially where God Warriors and Extreme Raw Food Eating Iowans are concerned. You know you want to see if Off Kilter Rural Iowa Family still butchers their own chicken and then eats it raw. And if their toilet is still filled with black water. And if they still brush their teeth with butter and clay. And if their teenagers have come to their senses and enrolled themselves in school. And if-ok I’m going to stop.

Here’s a fascinating clip below. The lagoon toilet makes an appearance.

I had hoped to write about green almonds in the likes of Gourmet or another favorite food magazine of mine, but the window of opportunity to acquire and eat green almonds is so miniscule that I didn’t think of it in time to pitch it. Nevertheless, green almonds are a popular Middle Eastern snack and have been a part of my family’s culinary palette for as long as I remember.

Green almonds are basically young, underdeveloped almonds. They can be eaten whole and the almond inside is still quite fleshy. They’re only available for about 3 to 4 weeks beginning in about mid-April, so I suppose they’re an odd type of delicacy. They’re a bit sour, but refreshing nonetheless, like something so appropriate for a hot summer night- and can really only be found in Middle Eastern or unconventional markets.

Green almonds are one in a list of fruits that are so entwined with culture and ethnicity, like the loquat which is known as “Nor Ashkhar” (New World)  in Armenian or dates and figs, which are guaranteed staples at my house yearround.

For one reason or another, food seems much more special this way - it doesn’t just become nourishment for your body, it takes on a slightly deeper meaning, defining your roots and background more than you ever intended it to.

Even though I’m thousands of miles from my origins, and that of these particular fruits and delicacies, it’s nice to live in a city like Los Angeles which provides me with the resources to not only experience far off aspects of my own background, but the backgrounds of dozens of other cultures as well.

If you can ever get your hands on green almonds, they are definitely worth a try - though the small window of time to get them in is definitely challenging, so this might be something to mark on a calendar. Odd I know, but you wont regret it.

Trust me when I say that I know I’m about 18 years late on opening any kind of discussion on Mississippi Masala, but I recently saw it for the first time and although it cannot be in any way classed as “Bollywood,” the Indian subject matter magnetized me to it instantly.

Directed by Mira Nair (Monsoon Wedding, Vanity Fair), Mississippi Masala chronicles the story of an Indian family as they struggle to adjust to life in Greenwood Mississippi, after being expelled from their homeland of Uganda by the Ida Amin regime. Father, mother and their daughter Minna (Sarita Choudhoury), stay with family who own a chain of motels called “The Monte Cristo.” At 24-years-old, Minna cleans at the hotel, while her mother runs a liquor store and her father writes endless letters to the Ugandan government in order to regain control of his confiscated house.

As the Fresh Prince of Bel Air would say, Minna’s life gets flipped turned upside down when she falls in love with Demetrius (Denzel Washington), the town’s African-American carpet cleaner. Of course, it becomes impossible for both of their families to accept their inter-racial relationship and so we are caught in a black-Indian or Blindian-if you will- love story that threatens to runs the lives of all parties involved off the tracks.

Mississippi Masala  enlightened a few things for me, mainly that:

a) Denzel Washington was extremely handsome back in the day

b) I love the 90s so much more than I can express in the confines of a blog post

c) I love Minna’s entire wardrobe in this film

d) I had no idea there was an Indian community in Uganda

Besides intriguing love story, authenticity of the characters and  just all around awesome time this was filmed, Mississippi Masala reminded me about something that so many films suffer from today that I can’t stand: too much dialogue.

Characters in films just talk way too much for my liking. So much can be said without saying a word, a concept that Dawnson’s Creek could never master, what with Joey Potter and her SAT- word soaked soliloquies.  A stare, a glance, an embrace, the stroking of hair, the caressing of a cheek and then quite the opposite-tears, distance, blatant ignorance. Mississppi Masala had a lot of this, so much so that it felt like it could actually happen, not that it could happen within the confines of the silver screen.

If your family came to the U.S. as immigrants, this is definitely a film that you will be able to relate to. It still amazes me how my parents picked up and moved to a completely different country - not because they wanted to, but because they had to, because of the Iranian Revolution. Minna’s parents’  financial, economic and social struggles can be echoed all across those that were forced to leave their homelands in order to establish lives in a new environment.

Jammubhai: I’m ashamed of you! I am so ashamed of you!
Anil: [referring to Meena's family] Why do you always take their side? I worked hard for this motel and I am *not* running a charity!
Jammubhai: Anil, you have become American.
Anil: So what? I’m living in America! You don’t like it? Then go back to India!

It was a great morning today. The sun was shining, the birds were chirping, life was just splendid. In fact, it was so great, that I managed to give a big “F U” to L.A. traffic and arrive to work early. Imagine that! It was just going so great for me, until I found out that in an evil plan to completely ruin the formidable years of my childhood and cause me a horrific amount of emotional trauma, Hollywood has decided to do a remake of “Drop Dead Fred,” starring Russell Brand. RUSSELL BRAND.

Now, I like Russell Brand I guess (the guy loves Morrissey, I think that says enough)  and he could pretty much nail this, but why can’t Hollywood stop regurgitating movies from the past and come up with something original? I mean, really - have you seen how hilarious and touching “Drop Dead Fred” is? Rik Mayall should have won some kind of award for that performance, and PHOEBE CATES! She is in it! Nothing can be bad if Phoebe Cates is in it! I don’t care if the rating on IMDB is 4.8 out of 10. This movie is a silver screen gem I tell you! And Hollywood is ruining my childhood by being a useless, unoriginal piece of shit. I’m mad as hell and I’m not going to take this anymore. Instead, I’m going to watch some “Drop Dead Fred.” Take that, film execs. Take that.