A LITTLE ROMANCE
George Roy Hill, 1979
Romance when transposed onto the likes of tykes yields tenderness. She's a bougie American living abroad in Paris, he's the blue blood son of a fare-fixing cabbie. She reads Heidegger, but he prefers Sartre. She is actually baby Diane Lane in her first role, Birkinesque. Long haired, leggy, and bereted out, a petite fashion statement already. With the help of Lawrence Olivier they run off to Venice as lovers do. All of this operates without a hitch of Wes Andersonian precocity. Clocking in under five feet tall, the bookish and cultured halves of this puppy-love pair may be miniaturized, but their emotions are not. I struck gold with this when I wanted something leisurely, but not mind-numbing, something that still required brain cells but not too much attention, attenuating the back from vacation with someone I seldom see (cue the retching).
and so, in that vein a dish to attenuate the funk of post-travel slump. big results from something small. a make-shift soup that's classic and comforting, and originally cheffed up by aforementioned person, for me, one cold winter night.
1 can cannellini beans, and their juices 1 whole garlic bulb, used at your discretion 1 yellow onion 2 tablespoons butter 2 eggs
Dice the onion, crush the garlic. As many cloves as you see fit. Heat a sizable glug of oil in a sauce pan. Add the aromatics, but don't let them burn — just glow golden brown. Lower the flame if necessary. Dump in the cannellini. Stir carefully, as not to break them. (They'll melt from the heat.)
Cover eggs in a pot of water. When the water's boil, set a timer: 6 minutes sharp. Plunge the prized things into icy cold water. Peel etc.