Wilfrid

Ouch!

She was still...?

No, no, you're supposed to break it down.

The Frick renovation has pushed it just about to the top of NYC must-visits again. I don't think anyone here needs to be told about the collection. Just a couple of tips: 1. It is very busy. If that drives you crazy maybe give it at least a couple of months. 2. Get a timed ticket. Walk-ins are allowed but were being quoted an hour-plus wait. 3. Leave plenty of time. Opening the second floor as gallery space just about doubles the size of the place. Walking up those stairs for the first time is certainly exciting.

Oh I have been through that; needing to hide the non-stick pan so nobody would use it to brown chicken in sugar or overcook rice.

There are still lines for the newer, post-Kenny Essex Street space.

L'Amour Fou (1969) on Criterion, more than four hours of early nouvelle vague by Jacques Rivette. This is sloooow cinema and I am watching over several nights. I have been in love with Bulle Ogier forever (and she is still with us) and wow the clothes they wore in 1969. I note that the cast is unfussily diverse, something French cinema has not had a problem with.

To be clear, Kenny has passed away and his operation has moved around. I was talking about the original from a lot of years ago.

A belated mention of Brian James, founder member of The Damned, who died in March. The Damned and Sex Pistols were really the first two British punk bands with The Clash trailing slightly behind. I first saw The Damned in a relatively large venue, The Roundhouse, supporting The Troggs. My friends and I chatted with them in the bar afterwards, at least until one of my friends tried to push me into Sid Vicious who was standing nearby (not yet a Pistol but already notorious). I subsequently saw them many times in clubs. They were the first of that wave of bands to release an album, the first to release a single (both produced by Nick Lowe). The remastered video for the single captures the energy.

This led me on an inadvertent doom scroll that revealed Brian James of The Damned died on my birthday this year and Dave Allen of Gang of Four in April.

Whether you liked Shopsin's or not there was something remarkable about serving maybe 100 dishes from a kitchen the size of a child's wardrobe.

These shows (Sargent and Paris, Amy Sherald: American Sublime) were both in previews recently so I saw them a few days apart. I really recommend the experience. It's all about the portraits. Admittedly, the Sargent show begins with the very young artist working in a wide range of genres on his arrival in Paris. But the main parts of the show ("sumptuous" is a good word) feature his large scale, mostly commissioned portraits. (Almost every painting in the show was completed in his twenties.) The Sherald show is almost entirely portraits. Yes, there are some large canvases that locate the model in a landscape but mostly it's just you and the model. The model stands against a background of solid or gently dappled color. The clothes are interesting, some of the titles are funny, but it's really about the face, the eyes, the gaze. (Note, it's also worth watching the video about her practice in a side gallery; the references to old black and white family photos is revelatory.) Sargent works much harder at garments and backgrounds, but again, it comes down to that look. I think if I just post two images, the relationship between the shows becomes vivid.

I have a PhD and am therefore a hot date. Surely.

I am surprised I can't find a thread for Le Crocodile. I know I haven't been in a while but it's hard to believe my last visit was before we lost all that earlier content. Anyway, I do keep my eye on the menu and there was enough of interest to take me back. I was lucky to have the sommelier, Miles, as my server. We bonded when I referred to the "cod fritters" on the menu as buñuelos de bacalao and there followed a very conversational evening (I was dining solo). Three savory courses (because no cheese). A pig's head terrine that reminded me of one eaten years ago at Lupa; served on a warm plate so just starting to melt. Then the buñuelos or why don't we call them breaded brandade balls? Crisp, great filling, excellent aioli. The menu switches back and forth between duck breast and leg and I was lucky it was a leg night. It was dusted with herbs of which the anise stood out; served with baby beets and accented with slivers of rhubarb. I still find this to be such a good kitchen, even if it spends most of its time making roast chicken and fries for the guests. With the bacalau, a very pale orange wine, Schödl "Frühstückswein" -- a blast to pronounce and, as Miles pointed out, literally breakfast-wine. With the duck a Cab Franc. Instead of dessert, a revelatory glass of Domaine Tissot, a fragrant red from the Jura.

Distracted. All the "gothic" comments about Wuthering Heights reminded me of The Castle of Otranto, allegedly the first gothic novel. I know I first read a library edition so thought of picking up a cheap, used copy. Fortunately, I remembered that I own an anthology, Three Gothic Novels, and it's in there. A really quick read, barely 100 pages, and it confirmed my recollection that it's one of the most hilarious books I've ever read. Walpole was no fool; he was both creating a genre and reducing it to absurdity. I am not the first to see Monty Python roots here. "Villain!"

The self-stabbing was pointless. I reached into my jeans pocket to grab a handkerchief today and broke a nail on one of those little rivets. Manicures are $20, so there's two bucks down the drain.

We both have nice nails.

I haven't seen one of those recently. I am heartbroken that my local supermarket hasn't had duck eggs for months, I think because of the flu and providers suspending or sadly closing.

$7.50 for an egg. That's like $15 for an omelette. End of the world.* I forgot to look for fiddleheads. Anyone seen them yet? *Satire.

No, Hannah, protein is not "venerated" by people on the keto diet. In fact, it's possible to eat too much protein in quest of fat. As for protein bars, every one I look at is way too high in carbs for anyone on keto. There are very good keto bars out there (high, of course, in fat). https://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2025/04/28/the-quest-to-build-a-perfect-protein-bar

RAAAAMMMMPPPPSSSS seem reasonably priced at $6 a bunch. Not like eggs. A bunch of eggs is "expensive."

Just trying to open a bottle of hoisin sauce and my knife skips off the foil wrapper and I stab myself. Not badly. Really trivially. But I sit here in the odor of tea-tree oil, pressing the wound, and thinking thanks universe. But the dirty secret is that I used the knife because I didn't want to mess up my nails.

Circa 1976, Dr Feelgood.

But as it is...

I agree. He certainly stood out as a stage performer, not least because of his massive size, but a lot of bands went the suit and tie route in those days.