Weekend foodie
Cynthia McMullen
May 19, 2008 10:25 AM
So my friend Regina visited this weekend. Regina and I have been buds since eighth grade but haven’t lived in the same city since 10th grade. It’s one of those friendships, though, where you can go a year without corresponding—but the next time you meet, it’s like you saw each other yesterday.
Regina and her family now live in Springfield. But luckily for me, Regina loves Richmond. Seriously, she 
could be a whole “You go, Richmond!” campaign in and of herself. That’s part of the reason it’s so much fun when she visits. She’s always ready to try the latest restaurant, cruise a new neighborhood or check out the trendy shopping areas.
Considering she was only here for about 27 hours, we outdid ourselves this weekend. I introduced her to Common Groundz, The Phoenician and Cafe Rustica. Score! She loved all three.
Common Groundz (above)—coffeehouse at Broad and Boulevard with VCU vibe, great sandwiches and fabulous Zuppa soups. The Phoenician (below)—near West End remake of La 
Casita with great Lebanese fare (love the olives, pita bread and yogurt cheese that appears as soon as you sit down), plus we got the best seats in the house, what with the “floofy” pillows and all. Cafe Rustica—downtown Main Street post-church Sunday brunch, where the savory bread pudding was only improved by the addition of maple syrup (who knew?!). Excellent omelets and bread. Plus, it’s just so darned jazzy with all the dark wood and European touches.
We planned to drop in on Broad Appetit yesterday afternoon, but the rain and dearth of parking interfered. Parking was more of a problem than it ordinarily would be on a Sunday because Theatre IV’s “Peter Pan” matinee was going on simultaneously. Managing director Phil Whiteway and artistic director Bruce Miller were actually out on Marshall Street trying to help theater patrons find parking. Bruce said they’d managed to find about 200 parking spaces—but the theater seats more than 500!
Of course, that’s a good problem to have. It’s always great to see downtown busy even if people have to walk a few blocks to get where they’re going. And the rain did fizzle out after a bit.
On Saturday afternoon, we went to Stony Point, visiting my friend Susan at Sak’s Fifth Avenue, checking out 
Anthropologie (one of my favorite drop-in shops) and spending some quality time on the benches outside, soaking up the amazing weather and doing some serious people- and dog-watching.
As Regina noted, many of the Stony Point Fashion Park pooches arrived in pairs. They ranged the canine spectrum, from Yorkies (one of which was a championship dog) to a Dalmatian (mixed) to fluffy white things I couldn’t possibly ID. But boy, were they cute.
I left the mall with one burning question: How—and WHY—do women shop in stilettos? Especially on brick pavements? Inquiring minds ...
At any rate, it was a fine Richmond weekend, made better by the presence of a really good friend.
The Swell Season quietly soars
Melissa Ruggieri
May 18, 2008 1:57 AM
The thing that strikes you most about Glen Hansard and Marékta Irglová – aka The Swell Season – is how absolutely adorable they look together.
They also happen to sound pretty fantastic.
At Friday’s sold out Toad’s Place gig, the duo, along with four musicians from Hansard’s other band, The Frames, recreated the simple chemistry that made their movie, “Once,” so effortlessly charming by performing songs from the soundtrack with the same underlying tenderness.
Hansard is obviously the extrovert of the two, but his chattiness between songs would have been much better appreciated if the throng of people behind the soundboard at Toad’s remembered that they were there to see a concert, not to loudly recap their day at the office to anyone within 20 feet.
The Swell Season’s music is gentle in structure, but even when the soft-spoken Irglová swapped place with Hansard – she heading center stage with a guitar and he taking over piano duties – for “If You Want Me,” a ballad of tortured longing, it was infused with the passion these two apply to everything.
Though the rest of the band, notably fiddler Colm MacConlomaire, were adept in their ability to quietly anchor these Irish-flavored folk-rock songs, the audience was always more engaged when Hansard and Irglová were sharing their sweet, soaring harmonies.
A generous five-song encore included The Frames song “Star Star,” along with an appropriate cover of Van Morrison’s “Into the Mystic.” Hansard has the type of appealingly gruff voice to tackle Van Morrison, an admitted idol of his, but it sounded as if the group was slowly petering out as the encore continued.
About 40 minutes after the show, Hansard was lingering around the upstairs of Toad’s, chatting with a couple of fans, signing autographs for them and posing for an interminable number of photos.
With a bottle of Corona (what, no Smithwicks or even a Boddingtons?) on the ledge next to him, the low-key musician and accidental movie star related that the band was soon going to pull out for Saturday’s show in Baltimore, so no trips to Siné or Rosie Connolly’s before the next gig.
It sounded as if this whirlwind tour has been tougher on Irglová, who Hansard said had been fighting a scratchy throat the past several weeks. Almost on cue, a door leading outside slammed loudly. Hansard smiled tiredly and said, “That’s probably Mar. I think that means it’s time to get on the bus.”
Lost: The Oceanic 6 return
Melissa Ruggieri
May 16, 2008 1:54 AM
Two weeks.
Two weeks we have to wait to find out if Jin and Desmond get blown to smithereens on the freighter.
Two weeks to see what “plan” Ben had in mind when approaching The Orchid station in surrender mode, allowing Keamy to cold-cock him across the jaw with a pistol (how very un-Ben like to play victim).
Two weeks to hopefully see more flash-forwards of Future Jack and how he digests the information that Claire is his half-sister…although I think the glimpse we got of Future Future Jack in last year’s finale – he of the paste-on beard and suicidal tendencies – answered that question.
Two weeks to figure out how the Oceanic 6 depart the island as a sextet, since in the last few frames last night, they were scattered across the island and freighter in various forms of distress.
Normally, I would question whether we might actually get some answers in the two-hour finale airing May 29 (though last night’s ep was technically the first of a three-part whammy), but I have to say, I’m pretty satisfied with the level of information that has seeped out these past few weeks – especially in those gripping flash-forwards.
But as usual, the questions raised during “There’s No Place Like Home” were endless.
What is Locke supposed to do once inside The Orchid? Ben sort of left him to figure that out on his own. Or maybe Jacob will finally appear and show Ben the way to ….whatever.
Where was Richard “Hot Guy From Suddenly Susan” Alpert taking Kate and Sayid?
Why was the typically jittery Daniel almost passing out from fear upon consulting his notes about The Orchid?
And who thinks Hurley continued to munch on that tube of 15-year-old saltines even after Ben told him they might be a little stale?
I’ll leave the intricate postulating to the gazillion other bloggers out there who are more inspired to theorize about why Hurley might have picked up a Jesus statue to use as a weapon, whether that scene of the Oceanic 6 departing the Coast Guard plane was an homage to “Close Encounters of the Third Kind” and if Ben handing Locke his “death stick” thingy was some sort of torch passing.
I also still can’t figure out the reasoning behind the Oceanic 6 sticking to this story of their group initially containing eight members. Any theories?
I will, though, award the line of the night to the Oceanic flack telling the group upon touchdown that the assembled media had already dubbed them the Oceanic 6. “That’s not the best branding as far as we’re concerned, but…it’s catchy,” she said, flinching on the outside and grinning inward at the publicity this amazing rescue will bring the tarnished airline.
One final thought regarding Oceanic. Obviously, based on Sun’s whip-smart, table-turning maneuver on her father and his company, the settlements disbursed to the survivors were some kind of stupid money, like, Hurley-winning-the-lottery money.
Hey, I expect a food voucher and an upgrade to First Class when my plane is 17 minutes late to the gate, so I’m totally in favor of giving giant rewards and golden tickets to a group of people who had to dodge smoke monsters and eat food wrapped in weird Dharma Initiative packages for more than 100 days.
But, even considering this is TV, do most airlines have that kind of dough to compensate plane crash victims? I’m thinking not. But Oceanic apparently does, and who else has a boatload of bucks?
Ah – Charles Widmore, maybe? What do you think?
Some notable “Lost"-centric sites:
http://darkufo.blogspot.com/
http://www.hawaiiup.com/lost/
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American Idol: Syesha speaks
Melissa Ruggieri
May 15, 2008 4:37 PM
Now we know why Syesha Mercado was so hard to warm up to those first Top-whatever weeks on “American Idol” – the girl is a classic workaholic.
In today’s exit interview with reporters, Syesha acknowledged those frosty moments when she sounded great, but emitted all of the heat of an ice cube.
“When I first stepped into the competition, I was really in a little shell,” she said, noting the vocal issues that plagued her during the Hollywood rounds. “I don’t feel I was at my whole potential because of the negative mind frame I was in. It was really harming my performance. When I got my mind right again, like it was during the auditions, I became more comfortable with myself… I just enjoyed myself more every week. I separated that fine line between overworking and doing so much that you’re unfocused and not enjoying yourself, and trusting yourself and letting go and taking it all in. My goal every week was to feel satisfied after every show, and I felt more satisfied the more the weeks went on.”
When asked which of the remaining Davids she prefers, Syehsa was expectedly non-committal, saying that she felt like a “little sister and a big sister” to both of them. But, she said, “David Archuleta has that beautiful smile and that really, really good connection with a younger audience, and David Cook has that connection with the younger audience—girls go crazy over him—and the older audience thinks he’s really, really charming, all of the older women.”
Despite regular appearances in the bottom three, or, as the contest narrowed, the bottom two, Syesha refused to consider that she might be sent packing – so much so that she literally refused to get her stuff in order.
“I never packed my bags,” she said. “They told us, you know what, you’ve got to pack your bags, but I was like, I’m not packing my bags because I don’t want to go home yet! I’m not ready. I think if you want something, it’s gonna happen for you. If you want top three you’re gonna get top 3. If you want to win, you’re going to win. Whoever is the most passionate, they’re gonna win. Every week, I set a goal and I just wasn’t ready to go home.”
After next week’s finale and the “Idol” tour, Syesha already has a detailed list of ambitions to attend to for life post-show.
“I know that whatever goal I set, it can be accomplished whether it’s within a year span or 10 years,” she said. “I want to make an album. I want to star in a film. I want to do Broadway. I want to open up an organic restaurant…it just depends on what comes first, but I have goals and I write them down.”
American Idol: And so it goes…
Melissa Ruggieri
May 15, 2008 12:08 AM
So it’s David vs. David in next week’s finale.
Yawn.
Even as Scruffy David (that would be Cook) sweetly held out his hand to clasp Syesha Mercado’s as the final trio waited to hear Ryan Seacrest shatter a dream, was there ever any doubt who was going home?
Syesha didn’t look very surprised at the news, remaining poised and able to flash a mega-watt smile to the Broadway producers watching from home. You almost expected her to make the universal “call me” sign, hoping that someone will save her from becoming the next Melinda Doolittle (my favorite contestant from last year who has, unfortunately, lived up to her last name – at least in any major, public way).
But it’s funny how I’ll always equate third-place week with Elliott Yamin.
Just watching Scruffy David tossing out a pitch at the baseball stadium (albeit with a major league team), Syesha riding in the back of a top-down limo with her parents as squealing fans lined the streets and David “Gosh” Archuleta getting handed a special proclamation from the groovily mustached mayor of Murray City, Utah, instantly brought back memories of Elliott’s magical day here two years ago.
So here’s to Syesha having some Elliott-level success.
But if there were any revelations last night – aside from the fact that I wanted to start a new drinking game and down a shot of whiskey every time David A. murmured “gosh” and blinked…but then I’d be too drunk to type – it’s that Fantasia, God bless her, hasn’t changed a whit.
She’s not my favorite “Idol” winner if we’re talking about vocals – I always found her a bit too screechy and overbearing – but has there ever been a more spirited, command-the-room performer as Lady F? I think her guest appearance last night proved that the answer is most definitely NO.
(Also, was there a more priceless camera cut in the show’s history than to Simon’s nearly dropped-jaw reaction to the Fantasia workout?).
Anyway, that’s why I’m throwing what little gusto I still have for this season behind Scruffy David next week. No secret that David A. just doesn’t do it for me, and Fantasia was another reminder why.
Scruffy David isn’t about to start booty-boppin’ across the stage (and after watching him dance, poor thing, during last night’s dreadful group song, that’s a good thing), but he has presence. His quiet authority projects an underlying sexiness and he’s demonstrated repeatedly that he can mold any style of song and inject it with originality.
David A., meanwhile, still looks and acts like the “Star Search” contestant he once was – a sweet-faced boy in a Members Only jacket who does treacly well and is as dull as a PBS telethon.
But, as Simon predicted moments before Syesha was celebrated home – or, back to her “Idol” dorm – next week’s D&D finale has the potential to be a “humdinger” that will come down not to talent, but to the fan base with the fastest phone connections.
Britney. Must. Be. Stopped.
Cynthia McMullen
May 14, 2008 6:16 PM
So Britney ran into another innocent driver—again—yesterday. Her Mercedes Benz coupe rear-ended a Ford 
Explorer in Beverly Hills. My guess—since she didn’t have a child in her lap—is that she was reaching for her 27th Starbucks of the day and just did not notice that pesky 2 tons’ worth of metal in front of her.
Or ... and here’s a theory worth investigating ... did she hit Drew Barrymore? I would’ve jumped on that one—made sense to me—except Drew was hit from behind on Monday. Of course, it still could’ve been Ms. Spears. That one gets around.
Seriously, somebody needs to take her driver’s license and grind it into tiny pieces, impound her car and put a lock on her front door till she gets some sense. Sure, I feel bad for Britney. She needs help. But does that make it OK to put others’ lives in danger?
American Idol: The final countdown
Melissa Ruggieri
May 14, 2008 12:07 AM
Remember way back in 2006 when Simon Cowell so despised Taylor Hicks, couldn’t think of put-downs for the hyperactive bar singer fast enough, yet had to sit and grimace through his performances week after week as that omnipotent Soul Patrol boosted Hicks to what has now become a hollow victory?
That’s pretty much how I feel about David Archuleta.
Resigned to the reality that no matter how blatantly he jumbles lyrics (or, in the case of last night’s “With You,” mumbles over the melody to disguise his mistakes), how shiny, yet empty his vocal performance, or how ill-equipped he is to handle anything resembling a conversation, the teen with controlling daddy issues will be in next week’s finale and likely win.
Speaking of resignation, David A.’s read of Billy Joel’s “And So it Goes” (interesting choice from Ms. Abdul) sapped the poignant song of its weary acquiescence and instead made it the equivalent of studying a Monet and walking away with a shrug. It’s a deep song about loss and miscommunication, but as presented by David A., it could have been a nonchalant “oh well” about Banana Republic being out of his sweater size.
But, as usual, Randy Jackson lapped up the youngster’s downy delivery, stopping a smidgen short of anointing him the “Idol” prince.
Eh, just as well. As Chris Daughtry has more than proved, not winning “Idol” is usually the best thing that can happen to any contestant not interested in singing double-glazed, tear-jerking pap. So hey, David Cook, we’ll soon see you opening for a major arena rock band … but only if you promise never to sing that Switchfoot song again.
I’d love to see David C. and Syesha Mercado face off if only because they both resemble the complete package far more than the Mouseketeer. As David C. demonstrated last night, he is capable of much more than restructuring pop songs into Nickelback-worthy rockers.
Anyone who can hit all of the twisting key changes in Roberta Flack’s “”The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face” and then stay on point while a squealing guitar derails during Aerosmith’s “I Don’t Want to Miss a Thing” – as David C. did --deserves more compensation than tepid praise from Randy. (Side note: Coincidence that Simon’s pick for David C. was a song that Leona Lewis, Simon’s protege, also covers on her debut album?)
But clearly, Randy’s thesaurus failed him last night, as he told BOTH David’s that they were capable of singing the phone book. Is that really a compliment?
And just as I was anticipating a night of good notices for three solid Syesha performances (OK, two and a half), Paula – Paula! – bludgeoned the suddenly sassy songstress’ dream right in front of all 21-million-and-rapidly-falling of us.
“I don’t know if it’s going to be good enough to get into the finals,” Paula told Syesha, who continued to beam bravely, likely because she was relieved to finally be freed from the spandex and sequins that nearly swallowed her during a stellar run on Alicia Keys’ “If I Ain’t Got You.”
Well, I know who we can blame when Syesha is sent back to her room tonight – those goofy producers who chose for her third song a bright, syncopated slice of vapidity that no one knows.
Are you really telling me that with all of “Idol”’s juice, Nigel Lythgoe and Co. couldn’t get a Beyonce or Rihanna song cleared, instead saddling Syesha with Gia Farrell’s “Hit Me Up” from the “Happy Feet” soundtrack? It would not be inappropriate to ask at this point, “Who the heck is Gia Farrell” and “Didn’t that penguin movie come out almost two years ago?”
The answers are a) a young singer whom you have no reason to have heard of and b) yes.
But none of that matters, because the “Idol” gods determined weeks ago that this year’s winner would be named David.
What I would like to know, though, is why we were subjected to what felt like dozens of plugs for iTunes, the “Idol” tour and other Fox shows – not to mention an inordinate amount of playful bickering among the judges – yet there was no time to show footage from the final trio’s hometown visits aside from cursory “Oh, look, Simon Cowell has just sent me a text message. Let me see what song he has chosen for me to sing,” contrivance.
Maybe we’ll get a look tonight – as long as the show can fit it in between the Ford commercial and endorsement of Coke products.
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Ooh, ooh, this just in!
Cynthia McMullen
May 13, 2008 4:48 PM
Forget what I said in the previous entry, Shayne Lamas’ career is clearly burgeoning.
This just in from Santa Monica, Calif.:
“Newly engaged actress Shayne Lamas, who was selected over 24 other girls for a marriage proposal by Matt Grant in the season finale of ABC TV’s popular ‘The Bachelor’ series, has chosen the Girls Gone Wild Magazine for her national print debut.
“Shayne says she decided to pose for Girls Gone Wild because ‘To me, Girls Gone Wild is about fun and freedom. It’s a way for a girl to express confidence in herself.’ The magazine contains no nudity.”
I’m more nonplussed by that last statement than I am about Shayne’s posing for the mag. How can it be Girls Gone Wild sans naked women? Do they paste those rectangular blocks—the one you see in the TV commercials—over each and every girly part?
Oh, wait, here you go: “Each issue of the magazine comes packaged with an exclusive, uncensored Girls Gone Wild DVD.” So I guess the magazine is just an entree to the vids.
Shayne is even classier than I thought. We can only hope Matt Grant agrees.
Matt, oh, Matt, what were you thinking?
Cynthia McMullen
May 13, 2008 4:28 PM
I watched the finale of “The Bachelor” last night. Yes, I admit it. Mock, if you will.
What can I say, I’m a romantic at heart. As little chance as true love has in this artificial world where bachelor-meets-25-lovely-ladies-whittles-them-down-to-one-and-lives-happily-(ha!)-forever-after, hope springs eternal for me. But c’mon, Matt, what were you thinking?
In this edition of the ABC show, global financier Matt Grant of London, 27, comes to America to find himself a 
bride. After weeks of painful and so-not-dramatic rose ceremonies, he pops the question on bended knee. And wouldn’t ya know it, 22-year-old Shayne Lamas of Malibu, Calif.—whose initial appearance even forces Matt’s big bro, Simon, to comment on her ever-so-bleached-blondness—ends up with the hunka-hunka diamond engagement ring.
Shayne, according to Shayne, is an actress. She is not there, she says, to enhance her career, despite papa Lorenzo Lamas’ comment to the contrary: “I think it was the idea of being on television that was very enticing to her.”
What acting career, you say? Yeah, I was curious, too, never having heard of her. Here’s what I found, courtesy of http://www.imdb.com: Shayne has appeared in two episodes of “Air America,” 18 episodes of “General Hospital” and three films I’m pretty sure you never heard of: “Endless Bummer” (in which she plays the no-doubt pivotal role of Red Bikini Girl), which apparently has been released but who knows where; “The 13th Alley,” somewhere between completion and release; and “Deep in the Valley,” in post-production.
You know the latter is Oscar-bound. It also stars one of the interchangeable Kardashian brood and, just to sweeten the pot, Tracy Morgan.
Matt, Matt, Matt. I’d like to think this is going somewhere – despite the best attempts of reality TV, I’m still that romantic at heart – but c’mon, let’s not kid ourselves. Your chances of marrying Shayne might not be quite as bad as 300-to-1, as one handicapper is predicting. But I’m guessing they’re slim.
So enjoy your little American tartlet while you can – sorry, make that little American “monkey.” (Yes, he DID propose this way: “Monkey, will you marry me?” Which might be the biggest reason of all that the relationship is most likely doomeddoomeddoomed.)
A new season of “The Bachelorette” premieres next week. Having just come off “The Bachelor,” I might have to skip it. Sometimes you just have to say no.
P.S. A reader asks what I mean by “hunka-hunka diamond engagement ring. I responded, but the e-mail was returned as undeliverable. So if you happen ever to see this again, Modna17, I just meant a big ring, a really nice ring. It’s a possibly obscure reference to lyrics from the Elvis song: “hunka hunka burnin’ love.” I think the song is titled “Burning Love.” Or maybe “Burnin’ Love.” Thanks for writing!
Did you read … oh, wait, what was the name of that book?!
Cynthia McMullen
May 12, 2008 5:25 PM
I recently and accidentally read “The Woman Who Can’t Forget,” a memoir by Jill Price (with Bart Davis).
What caught my eye—and piqued my interest—was the supertitle, “The extraordinary story of living with the most remarkable memory known to science.” I had a weird experience late last year where my memory was affected by Topamax, a migraine preventive I was trying.
Apparently Topamax’s biggest potential side effects are hand-and-toe tingling or weight loss.
Just my luck. I didn’t lose weight, I lost short-term memory. At first, I thought it must be my imagination. I’ve always been good at memorizing phone numbers, for example. But over the course of a couple of months ... I was losing them. I also started forgetting names. Not my friends or family or co-workers, but the names of actors or authors or musicians and so forth. Not a good thing when you’re an entertainment writer.
Trying to figure out if I was going senile or nuts, I went back and read Topamax’s side effects. Sure enough, it affects memory in a tiny percentage of cases. Plus—although I know people who had great results with it—it ”
wasn’t making a big difference with my headaches.
I asked my doctor, who immediately took me off it—and again, sure enough, within a month or two, I started retaining phone numbers again. I’d have to look up a number I had forgotten. But once I did, it was back.
Kinda scary.
Anyhow, that’s why this book attracted me. And a couple of days after I finished reading it—last Friday—ABC’s “20/20” did a story on Jill Price. So it was really interesting to see Price talk about her story, even if Diane Sawyer spent way too much time trying to trip her up with memory quizzes.
The thing about Price is that her memory—and it IS extraordinary—is for her own life and things that happened in or during her life (as opposed to facts or figures).
You can ask what day pretty much any big event of the last 30 years happened, and she can tell you not only the date but the day of the week ... as well as what she was doing or thinking or even wearing that day. As she points out, though, it’s as much a curse as a blessing—she has a sort of continuing video running in her head of nearly everything that has happened to her since she hit puberty. The good and the bad along with the ugly.
The book itself tends toward repetition—I would rather have had a shorter book that doesn’t tell the same stories or make the same explanation more than once—but still, it raises fascinating questions. If all goes well, Price and her researchers will make valuable discoveries as to how our memories actually work.
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