The Spy Who Came in From the Cold and Found Love
By
Steve Herte
With
Mardi Gras comes the Lenten Season when restaurant selection on
Fridays gets an added limitation of no meat for me. The restaurant I
chose featured crepes and a seafood crepe was among them. Ideal. I
tried to recall the last time I had a crepe and the memory came
flooding back. It was on the Upper West Side, near Lincoln Center,
when La Crepe still existed and I was in a quartet called “The
Craftsmen.” La Crepe made crepes the old-fashioned way on a special
griddle. The cook wore traditional country French caps and costume. I
ordered Crepes Suzette for dessert and I should have taken a warning
when my young waitress enthused, “Oh goodie! My first time!”
She brought the crepes and slathered them with Grand Marnier, even
dribbling it on the tabletop. Then she lit it with a match and
started singing “Stars and Stripes Forever” (obviously not
French) as the blue flames danced from the dish across the table
heading for me. Suddenly she noticed her error and my shock and tried
to put it out with the napkin. The napkin caught fire. Together, we
finally extinguished the flames. “Let me try again. I’ll get
the Grand Marnier!” “NOOO, thank you. It’s fine as it is.”
I’ll
never forget that. But I still love crepes and the adventure was
before me that night. Enjoy!
Kingsman:
The Secret Service (20th Century
Fox, 2015) –
Director: Matthew Vaughn. Writers: Jane Goldman, Matthew Vaughn
(s/p). Mark Millar, Dave Gibbons (comic book The Secret Service”).
Cast: Colin Firth, Taron Egerton, Samuel L. Jackson, Michael Caine,
Mark Hamill, Jack Davenport, Sofia Boutella, Samantha Womack,
Jonno Davis, Mark Strong, Sophie Cookson, & Alex Nikolov. Color,
129 minutes.
What
do you get when you take a good James Bond movie, bring in the suave,
umbrella-toting gentleman John Steed from The Avengers,
make it all commonplace with liberal vulgarity, include the
inconspicuous storefront entrance to the underground headquarters
from The Man from U.N.C.L.E., toss in a few outrageous
weapons and mention the shoe-phone from Get Smart and,
stepping up the gore, borrow a Stephen King story (in this case,
“Cell”) for the villain’s plan? Answer? Kingsman: The
Secret Service.
From
the beginning I frankly couldn’t tell if the makers of this film
were trying to be serious or comedic. The movie opens in Afghanistan
with two men attacking some (assumed) terrorists on the ground while
dangling from ropes on either side of a helicopter. Their main target
is a fortress and the opening credits roll off the building after
each explosion. It was a nice special effect but it also looked
comical.
The
scene switches to a remote part of Argentina where another terrorist
is loudly interrogating Professor Arnold (Hamill) who cowers under
his assaults. Suddenly, Lancelot (Davenport) – a Kingsman (they’re
all named after Knights of the Round Table) – appears and
dispatches the terrorists. There’s another knock on the door and
swish! Lancelot is bisected from head to toe and the two halves peel
apart – much like the cow in Stephen King’s Under the
Dome. The beautiful but deadly Gazelle (Boutella), a girl with
swords for feet is to blame. She and her men take the hapless
Professor Arnold to her boss, the slightly effeminate and lisping,
multi-billionaire Valentine (Jackson).
Back
in London, the Kingsman organization headed, logically, by Arthur
(Caine) need to replace their fallen Lancelot. Their remaining main
operative, Harry Hart/Galahad (Firth) seeks out 12 candidates for the
position, finishing his search with Gary ‘Eggsy’ Unwin (Egerton),
the unlikely son of a Kingsman living with his mom, Michelle Unwin
(Womack), his little baby sister and the abusive thug and gang leader
Lee (Davis) taking the place of his dad.
It
takes some convincing, but after a pub fight where Galahad subdues a
roomful of Lee’s goons, Eggsy follows him to the Kingsman Tailor
Shop, where they enter a changing room and, with a pull of a clothes
hook descend into the bowels of the secret organization. A high-speed
vacuum tube ride later and they arrive at the mansion headquarters
outside of London, where he meets the technical genius Merlin
(Strong). Merlin leads him to the “dorm” room where the other 11
are waiting, gives them his orientation speech and ends with, “On
each of your beds there is a body-bag. Fill out the slip attached
with all information, including next-of-kin, because only one of you
will survive to be a Kingsman.” (Did I hear a similar line
in Hunger Games?)
The
12 are put through grueling tests to prove their worthiness. All fail
the first test when the dorm room fills with water, the test of
Teamwork. Marksmanship goes a little better. They are told to pick a
puppy (where you go, it goes). Eggsy chooses a pug thinking it’s a
bulldog and that it will get a lot bigger, much to the amusement of
the others. After several eliminations Target Skydiving leaves only
Roxy (Cookson) and Eggsy. When asked to shoot their dogs, only Roxy
succeeds and becomes the new Lancelot. Eggsy goes home. But not for
long.
Meanwhile,
Valentine is rounding up all the leaders of the world,
intelligentsia, movers and shakers (some whether they want to or not
– those who don’t are locked up in dungeon cells), including a
brief scene with President Obama. (We assume. We only see his back
and a shot of the White House.) He brings them all to his Arctic
hideaway inside a mountain and is implanting a special chip at the
base of their skulls. This chip will make them immune to his second
chip, which he markets to the whole world in the form of a SmartPhone
with free Internet, free minutes, free texting, FOREVER! There are
lines all over the world and people eagerly snap up these free
phones. Little do they know that Valentine plans to send a “pulse”
through these phones that will turn each of them into a bloodthirsty
killer, which will consequently wipe out most of the Earth’s
population. (Remember the book, Cell? Same story.), He
explains this as, “Global Warming ith the Earth
developing a fever to kill off the viruth (people)
that is making it thick. I’m just providing
a thervice to the Earth.”
After
a test of this pulse on a white-supremacist church where Galahad –
also affected by it – slays the entire congregation (extreme gore),
he exits only to be shot by Valentine. Eggsy is horrified. Then he
discovers that Arthur also has the chip implant. Using sleight of
hand to switch glasses of poisoned brandy (a Get
Smart routine) Eggsy finds that it’s up to him, Merlin and
Roxy to “save the world.”
This
was the movie the guys wanted to take their dates to for Valentine’s
Day last week? I admit, I thought it would be better than it was. I
admire Samuel L. Jackson’s never losing that ridiculous lisp and
voicing the best two lines in the movie, “Beijing? You would think
the Chinethe would have a better thecret title for their thecret
thervice,” and “This ain’t that kind of a movie.” No, it
wasn’t. I’m surprised that Michael Caine agreed to do this movie
but he did so elegantly. Like I said, I didn’t know if it was
comedy or serious drama. Any class the movie had was brought low by
the repeated vulgarity and returns to the gross-out factor. Parents,
be aware. The fast action violence is graphically slowed to accent
the brutality and blood involved almost to ludicrous extent. I’m
glad I saw it, but I would never own it.
Rating:
3 out of 5 Martini glasses.
Love
Café and Bar
430
2nd Avenue
(between 24th and
25th Streets), New
York
When
I looked at the menu online I concluded (rightly) that this
seven-month-old restaurant was indeed Ukrainian. When I arrived at
its neon-lit front windows I wasn’t too sure. The two front windows
announced “Delicious European Cuisine,” “Crepes, Belgium
(that’s how they spelled it) Waffles, Perogies, Chicken Wings, Home
Made Corned Beef, Chicken Kiev…” and other international
delights.
There
was no Captain’s Station, but there was no room for one. Around a
large central column that appeared strong enough to ward off a
category 8 earthquake, there was only space enough for the bar on the
left and eight tables on the remaining walls. The young woman who
greeted me at the door led me to a table as far away from the front
door as possible, but still in the front window. I found out why. The
front door doesn’t close all the way by itself. With every entrant
a gust of arctic air swept in and continued until someone (usually my
greeter) closed it completely. However, I didn’t mind. I was
dressed for cold.
To
those not familiar with Polish decorators (yes, she told me the
nationality of the decorator), the room might seem garish. The walls
and central column are festooned with large, folksy floral patterns
and the bar bedecked with bold clown stripes. Under the glass
topping, the tables are beautiful rose patterned tablecloths. The
globe swags lighting the place look as though they might have been
formed by a pastry chef’s icing extruder. Last, and best, the
flat-screen television on the back wall is playing non-stop hilarious
Russian music videos. The songs included “I Will Survive” and
“Ochi Chornya” and sung with gusto by impressive vocalists, but
with a Benny Hill-like comedy. You didn’t need to understand
Russian to laugh.
Having
supplied me with the all-inclusive menu and a glass of water, my
greeter became my server and asked if I preferred a drink to start. I
ordered the first thing that caught my eye, the Old Rasputin Imperial
Stout (9% alcohol) – North Coast Brewing Company, California –
focusing on the name, not the place of origin. It was impressively
delicious and full of flavor without any bitterness. I explained to
my server that I was considering a three- course meal and she agreed
to stop me if I’d ordered too much. When I asked how many perogies
were in a serving she answered simply, “Twelve.” “Twelve?” I
queried. “We are not Polish, we’re Ukrainian. They’re small.”
Good enough for me. I made my order, finishing it with my wine
selection, a 2012 Casarena Malbec from Mendoza Vineyards Argentina.
The selection of wines, while not large, was of sufficient quality
and the prices were excellent, especially for this nicely balanced
red.
My
meal started with Hungarian cream of mushroom soup – sautéed
mushrooms with light cream, Madeira wine, chopped dill, sour cream
and a pinch of Hungarian paprika. The soup was served in a bowl I
recognized from my own home collection. It was a stemmed affair with
two lion heads as handles, only this one was a bright lipstick red.
The soup was hot, thick and loaded with juicy mushroom slices –
definitely not from a can – and slightly red from the paprika. I
loved it.
The
perogies came next and were served in a similar bowl garnished with
cooked cabbage and onions with a bacon-y flavor. They were mixed, as
requested, with stuffings of potato and fried onions, potato and
mushrooms, potato and cheddar cheese and potato and bacon – all al
dente and delicious with a little sour cream.
The
main course arrived before I was finished with the pirogies but
fortunately both dishes retained their heat despite the front door
problem. The seafood crepe – mussels, scallops (bay), sautéed
shrimp and crabmeat served with house-made seafood sauce (creamy and
green, tasting of chives) – was a perfect Lenten dish. It nearly
covered the tomato-red plate it was served on and was soft, but not
too sweet. The seafood inside was cooked to succulence and was so
good (even the shrimp) I nearly forgot my wonderful wine.
My
server asked how everything was and I commented on how excellent the
soup was and how happy I was with the perogies and crepe – I hadn't
had either in a long time. It was then I learned from her how long
Love has been on Second Avenue and that their original restaurant was
in Florida. (She still did not reveal her name.)
She
asked if I wanted dessert, and when I nodded, she brought back the
menu indicating the dessert crepes. I chose the Lord Michael Dessert
Crepe – strawberry preserves, vanilla ice cream and chocolate
“designer” sauce. It was equal in size to my main course but it
vanished quicker. I adore strawberry preserves as much as I love a
good crepe. When she asked if there was anything more she could bring
I said, “Let’s see. What is traditional? Tea!” “With honey or
lemon?” “Honey.” She brought a selection tray and told me the
Papaya Tea is her favorite. I chose it. No wonder it was her
favorite. I’ve never tasted anything like it, only slightly floral
with a good strong tea flavor. And with the honey, it was excellent.
I
was ready with my I-Dine gift card when I received the check, but
when I discovered that, with tip, the bill was still under $100 I
didn’t use it. I was amazed. I dined like a Tsar. I will definitely
be back, probably on one of my stay-cations for breakfast. But with
only eight tables I’m sure I’ll have to make a reservation.
The
menu at Love reads like a diner menu – breakfast first, with
Belgian waffles, lunch sandwiches, Zakuski (hors d’oeuvres)
including 8 ways of serving chicken wings, soups and
salads. Their Hungarian Goulash is served in freshly baked bread, the
meat dishes include Beef Stroganoff, and of course there’s one of
my all-time favorite poultry dishes, Chicken Kiev. For vegetarians,
there is a dish called a Taste of Tbilisi (the capital of Georgia)
served over Basmati rice.
Yes,
they are true to their claim on the front windows. They serve Crepes
Suzette, Veal Schnitzel, Italian Wedding Soup, Norwegian Pickled
Herring, and Mac and Cheese, truly international. And, after my
movie, I was the spy who came in from the cold.
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