Top Chef, S9E6.

I would say this was a weird episode, but this whole season is playing out strangely, isn’t it? The challenges seem stranger, Tom Colicchio seems crankier, the contestant pool feels as weak as the last non-All Stars crop, and whether it’s editing or reality we have some grade-A wackos among the remaining chefs.

* Quickfire: This I liked – emphasis on fundamentals of French cooking, which, like it or not, is the underpinning of most haute cuisine. And sauces are critical. Learning that, say, Whitney didn’t know how to make a sauce tomate or that Chris C. could see the sauce velouté as a foundation for building flavors (like you’d find in Ruhlman’s Ratio) was enlightening – one of the few chances we’ve had to learn a lot about several of these chefs in a short period of time. But again with all the scallops?

* So Paul didn’t use a roux in his sauce espagnole, but the recipe says he used demi-glace, which is a highly reduced sauce espagnole combined with veal stock. So there was some roux in the demi-glace, as well as the concentrated flavors of an earlier sauce espagnole, and the thickening power of the demi-glace boosted the finished product as well. Demi-glace is a major ingredient in high-end kitchens, but using it here feels a little off – like he used someone else’s work to boost his own dish.

* I’ve written about béchamel before – isn’t it kind of simple for a show like this? I think it’s the easiest of the five mother sauces to make, and I don’t think converting it into a sauce mornay (as I do in my baked macaroni and cheese) was permissible.

* Elimination challenge: Four-course meal, at least two including steak. Was I the only one surprised that they decided to cook 200 individual steaks? Not only is that boring, it’s time-consuming, and gives you no room for error; dishes of sliced steak mean you can always toss any pieces that are over- or under-cooked (within reason – they didn’t shop for 250 plates). And a ten-ounce ribeye per person after another steak course, followed by dessert, is an obscene amount of food for an average person.

* So, is Heather a horrible person, or is she just edited that way? There were a few clips of her being bossy – although you know the same behavior from a male chef would just make him a “bad-boy” type – but the rant she gave the camera about Beverly was over the top. And then she won, which felt a lot like a narrative to me. It did sound like the cake was awesome; I can’t see giving Nyesha the win for a sauce and a compound butter (the latter is pretty straightforward), but didn’t Chris J. perfectly cook the steak in a dinner that required two steak courses? That doesn’t win?

* Tom … man, I like Tom because he’s so incisive, but there’s a vicious turn to his comments in the last few elimination challenges. I’d like to think this is because he’s disappointed in the quality of the cooking so far; from my couch, it looks like we’re not getting the transcendent cooking of the Voltaggios’ season, so that might be making Tom grumpier. But he just lit into the three chefs on the bottom to their faces and tore apart the eliminated chef right after it. He’s so much friendlier on Last Chance Kitchen, so I’m thinking Angry Elimination Tom is about the quality of the chefs.

* Not enough Hugh. It does sound like he’s cool with the roux-less mother sauces, though. Also, “Heather can’t remember who shot J.R., but she’s pretty sure it’s Beverly” is gold.

* Ty-Lor wants Jamie Lauren to know she is a capital-w Wuss.

* I don’t think I’ve ever actually had gazpacho, so I couldn’t interpret the Tom/Hugh divide on that dish. I feel like I need to rectify this in my next meal.

* I feel badly for Whitney after she revealed last week that she grew up quite poor, at times living in cheap hotels with her family when she was a kid. But a basic gratin is a pretty easy dish to make; even if she’d executed it well, she wouldn’t have won, and it seems like other chefs didn’t like her decision to cook it all on day two. She wasn’t winning this thing anyhow, so on that level I’m not as disappointed.

* LCK: Love the peanut gallery of eliminated chefs, especially Keith, and they seemed to really enjoy offering the commentary. Whitney’s burger sounded better overall, considering the toppings and the use of the pork sausage, and it sounds like she won because she had better flavor but also may have cooked hers better. Was Chuy at a disadvantage with ostrich, which reminds me of the leanest steak you could imagine? Again, Tom is so much more human in these videoclips that I wonder what has him so curmudgeonly in the elimination challenges.

* Final three: Paul and Chris C. remain the top two in the competition in my eyes. Heather’s blustering and her win this week don’t elevate her in my eyes; I think she’s just as limited as Beverly and Sara but doesn’t realize it. I’m leaning Nyesha, who started to come on strong in this episode, for the third spot, followed by Edward.

Martha Marcy May Marlene.

Martha Marcy May Marlene is a tense story of a woman who, after fleeing a cult-like commune, shows increasing signs of post-traumatic stress disorder as she attempts to reestablish her normal life and a relationship with her selfish sister and difficult brother-in-law. Based on the true story of a friend of writer/director Sean Durkin, the film is driven by two very strong performances and the use of both silence and background noise to allow the audience to feel the tension grow with the main character’s own mental troubles.

The film begins when Martha (Elizabeth Olsen, the younger sister of Mary Kate and Ashley) flees the commune where she has lived for two years and calls her sister to ask for help; the call is awkward and Martha nearly gives up, showing how far she had fallen into the clutches of the commune’s charismatic, depraved leader Patrick (John Hawkes). From there, we see parallel narratives, one tracking Martha’s first few days of freedom with her sister Lucy (Sarah Paulson) and brother-in-law ted (Hugh Dancy) who want to help her as long as it’s no real inconvenience to them, the other following her two years in the cult from her first day to the incident that triggered her decision to escape. Both narratives follow similar curves with an initial ascent followed by a long, gradual decline, a dichotomy where each storyline intensifies the other.

The commune’s true nature only becomes apparent through gradual glimpses through Martha’s memory – and it’s possible that Martha isn’t a reliable narrator, given what happens to her in the other narrative – that reveal the commune to us more or less as it was revealed to her. She’s taken in as a bit of a lost soul, charmed by Patrick, eventually drugged and raped by him (which is explained to her as a “special” event that begins the “cleansing”) as part of her initiation. Patrick exercises control over the commune’s members through very subtle psychological manipulation, although that turns darker as the story develops. Martha – whom Patrick has rechristened “Marcy May,” as he renames all of the members – drifts into the lifestyle of the commune, never questioning any of its practices because she’s pleased, or at least satisfied, to have something resembling a family.

That need for family is explained in part by Martha’s time with her sister and brother-in-law, both flawed themselves and particularly ill-equipped to deal with a woman who has just fled a cult but claims she simply left a boyfriend. Her problems in this timeline start out as mere distance, moodiness, and ignorance of some social customs, but degenerate into delusions and paranoia, and Lucy and Ted show very little compassion or even the ability to generate it – we go through more than 80% of the movie before Lucy finally confronts Martha directly with the question of what happened to her during her two years out of contact. Their parents gone, Lucy is Martha’s only family, but there’s little warmth between them and more obligation than outright love, which stands in the way of Martha’s recovery almost as much as her own unwillingness to discuss what happened does.

Olsen is superb in the film, her first screen role, particularly in the second half of the film when she’s required to show a broader range of emotions; in the first half, she’s emotionally vacant in both narratives, but gets to stretch out into two different faces of the same character as the narrative unfolds. But Hawkes dominates his half of the story by almost trying not to dominate it: There’s no showiness, no bravura, just small gestures, eye contact, a faint change in the tone of his voice to convey the power he has over his charges. Olsen’s growing fear is the primary driver of the tension in the commune storyline, but Hawkes’ magnetism manages to elevate it even when all we have is the threat of his entrance. He’s a monster despite never acting like one; she’s the victim but never acts victim-like, only showing it through a slow crescendo of confusion and fear.

Both leads will at least be in the running for Best Actor/Actress nominations, although those categories are incredibly competitive, and if nothing else I think Martha Marcy May Marlene – the reason for the fourth name is too good to spoil – will end up with a Best Original Screenplay nod. If you can find it and like a tense, psychological drama with the tension of a British thriller, it’s well worth seeing.

I’d like to discuss the meaning of the end of the film, but for those of you who haven’t seen it, you may want to skip ahead. This paragraph has no value other than providing a warning and a buffer.

And this is another buffer, in case you didn’t listen the first time. Spoilers ahead.

There are three ways to interpret the end of the film, two literal, one other metaphorical. Perhaps the man is from the cult and has come to capture, harm, or kill Martha, which is certainly what she’s fearing. Perhaps the man’s appearance is just a coincidence; he could even be a random stalker, but not from the cult. But I favor a third interpretation – that the man’s status is irrelevant; the point of the scene is that Martha isn’t free of the effects of her two years in the cult, and might never be free. She will assume any incident like this is about the cult, or she’ll even experience more delusions like the two she had at the house and will see someone from the cult where there’s no one. The idea that her ordeal isn’t over is paramount, which is why it’s unnecessary to show the viewer the outcome of the incident in the street.

Top Chef S9E5.

* The quickfire itself was a great idea – finding out what can the chefs do with a limited set of ingredients, especially ones where they need to bring flavor or overcome a bad texture, is the perfect construct for a fast challenge. But making them struggle to open cans? What’s the point of that? Just give them can openers so they can spend more time cooking and less fighting to get to the ingredients.

* It does make me wonder whether the chefs would be allowed to carry emergency kits on them of, say, essential seasonings or even packets of things like soy sauce. Would using those be considered cheating on a quickfire?

* As always, take my comments in the appropriate context, since I never tasted any of this food. That aside, Lindsay’s dish looked awful – was the taste gap between hers and Edward’s (which the judges also liked, and which looked like real food) that big to overcome his enormous advantage in presentation? Not to mention the idea that using Vienna sausages successfully was some sort of inherent advantage for Lindsay – she couldn’t be penalized for it, but I can’t see giving her bonus points for it. Edward took subpar ingredients and made something almost upscale. How does that not win?

* Chris J. running for the cornfield should be played every week for sheer comedy value. It would have been funnier if the producers had hidden, say, a cooler full of sushi-grade tuna in there.

* Nouveau riche gets a bad name in the elimination challenge, especially with the wife of the first couple, who hates all food that tastes like anything. I’ll give her a pass on the cilantro, but bell peppers? Or food that might give people bad breath – so no onions or garlic? Some smart-ass chef should have just made her a plate of boiled chicken. If I had that kind of money, I’m not sure I’d be in a rush to show it off on TV anyway, but these people made it worse by showing the self-awareness of a sea cucumber. When you’re rich, people want to hate you. Don’t encourage this.

* And by the way, I might be out on a limb here, but do you think Gummi Bear Husband’s wife might have married him for his money?

* Excellent point by Edward that pleasing the specific couple at whose house they were cooking was by no means sufficient – the chefs needed to please all of the guests, and as it turned out, really only needed to please the judges.

* Speaking of which, Tom’s laugh and facial expression after an inane comment by one of the bottle-blonde wives might have been the funniest moment I’ve ever seen on the show. He could have said, “Wow, what a dim bulb that one is” and it wouldn’t have been as derisive. All the money in the world can’t buy you taste, I suppose.

* To the woman who thought Edward’s dish was “jiggly looking” … maybe because it’s set with gelatin, sweetheart.

* There were no entrees among the winners group – two appetizers, two desserts. Paul’s fried/roasted Brussels sprouts with grilled prosciutto (and, I believe, sliced peaches) isn’t up on the site (yet?), but did sound excellent, if a bit safe – cabbages and cured pork products are a pretty natural and obvious pairing. Dakota’s banana bread pudding with peanut butter cups sounds and looks amazing, and I really thought she’d win for succeeding where so many chefs fail – on dessert. I’m concerned that Sarah is going to get Fabio’d – if she can’t answer a challenge with something from her Italian repertoire, she’s hosed.

* Elimination: I think Chris C. may have had the worst plate – he certainly seemed to be on the bottom of Tom’s list – but I’m really uncomfortable when a chef on this show is sent home because s/he failed at a dessert that s/he was forced to make (as opposed to a chef choosing to do dessert). Chris J. got killed for making a “cigar” with “ash” … I thought it looked cool, but was surprised he used collard greens (which are tough and fibrous and require long, slow cooking) instead of seaweed on the outside. The judges talked so much about Ty-Lor’s messy plate that I wasn’t clear on whether the food itself tasted good – although having the judges question your knife skills augurs poorly for your future on the show. Chuy overcooked salmon, then tried to justify it; overcooked meat generally gets you sent home on this show, and overcooked fish is even worse than overcooked meat. Plus salmon and goat cheese doesn’t sound like an appealing combination to me – although I admit that I never pair fish and cheese at home anyway. I thought he was one of the half-dozen most talented chefs on the show, but that’s a pretty big mistake to make.

* LCK: I was torn here, since it seems like both guys are talented and I would have liked to have seen both stick around on the main show. Chuy referred to Tom as “the Puff Daddy of steak.” I don’t think that’s the compliment he intended for it to be.

* Final three: Paul seems to me like the runaway leader right now. Despite his appearance in the bottom four, I still think Chris C. is a contender – he’s got a different vision than most of the other chefs and, other than dessert (which he said up front was a huge weakness for him), he executes a lot in a short period of time. Edward would be the third choice if he doesn’t go all Chris Snelling and end up in traction. Am I wrong to think Dakota is too fragile to win this thing? The judges pretty consistently like her food, and the improvisation with the milkshake cup was huge, but I feel like she’d burst into tears if she stepped on an ant. I think she and Nyesha are in the next group.

Beginners.

Mike Mills’ 2011 film Beginners takes an event from his own life and turns it into the central plot point in a romantic drama about love, death, and depression. But it’s a much better and sweeter movie than that makes it sound.

As the film opens, we see the 38-year-old Oliver cleaning out a house, going through mementos and old papers, after which he explains (as narrator) that his father, Hal, has just died of cancer, four years after his mother died, which led Hal to reveal that he was gay and to embark on almost a second adolescence, finding new friends, a new love, and a happiness he’d never had during his four decades of marriage. That story, shown in retrospect, is cut in between shots of emotionally-stunted Oliver struggling to forge a new, and for him unusually happy, relationship with, Anna, a beautiful French actress who stumbles improbably into his life but is far from emotionally perfect herself. Oliver’s inability to be happy in love is only partially explained by what we learn about his family, but it’s too facile to say that he learns how to overcome that by watching his father – he learns how to start overcoming it, and to Mills’ credit, the film doesn’t make anything too easy on him or on us.

Nearly all of the dialogue – I’d be hard-pressed to call it action – in Beginners comes from the three central characters, with a few added lines from Hal’s younger boyfriend Andy (Goran Visnjic) and from the dog Arthur (via subtitles, if you were confused). Christopher Plummer is earning some justified Oscar buzz for his performance as the moribund Hal, whose mood is anything but as he finds himself liberated after 40-plus closeted years in an unfulfilled marriage that was, for him, more of a business arrangement; while I’d love to see him win Best Supporting Actor for sentimental reasons, it may also be that he wins for sentimental reasons, as he turns 82 in two weeks and has received just one nomination, in 2009 for The Last Station. It could be the Academy’s last chance to so honor Captain Von Trapp in a sort of lifetime achievement award.

But Plummer is truly the supporting actor to the two leads, Ewan Macgregor as Oliver and Mélanie Laurent as Anna, whose relationship we watch in tiny movements from inception to breakup (if you can call it that) to resolution, a path that seems painfully real in how precise some of those movements are. They meet at a costume party – one of those costume parties you only see on TV or in films, because all of the costumes are impeccable – where Anna has laryngitis and communicates via a tiny notepad, which still makes her louder than the grieving Oliver, just two months past the death of his father. From there, the film jumps around in time between their romance, often sweet but tinged with melancholy reflected in dim apartments and fall weather, and Hal’s last few years of personal freedom, exploring (his word) another side of himself while Oliver attempts to hold together a foundational element of his past. Discovering that his parents’ marriage was a sham – to him, fully, but to his father, only partly so – only cements his belief that relationships won’t work out, so why give them a chance to do so when you know you’ll fail?

We also see scenes from Hal’s marriage to Oliver’s mother Georgia (Mary Page Keller) in flashbacks in which Hal never appears: It’s always Oliver and his mother, and it becomes clear that while Hal viewed their marriage as an arrangement, she didn’t, and her growing alienation from her husband only compounded whatever issues she brought into the marriage in the first place. (This receives some explanation toward the end of the film, a mild spoiler I won’t reveal.) Witnessing his own parents’ loveless marriage, understanding that it was loveless with no understanding of why, warps Oliver’s own view of love and plants the seeds of an inability to build a lasting relationships that, with Anna, is exacerbated by his suffocating grief.

Laurent, meanwhile, could say virtually nothing and steal scenes just by virtue of being adorable, but Anna is battling a depression of her own, living an itinerant and ultimately lonesome lifestyle that may also reflect a reaction to a broken relationship between her still-living parents. It’s a hard trick to look sad without becoming pathetic when an actress and her character are both cute; while it took some time for Laurent to make Anna’s underlying sadness come through (the film is, after all, more focused on Oliver’s grief), the script turns enough to allow Laurent to stretch out beyond the façade of Anna’s playfulness. Her reunion with Oliver at the film’s end would have felt forced if he was the only one struggling emotionally, one of several small twists in the film that made it more effective and less sentimental than a standard girl-fixes-guy romantic drama.

Mills’ script succeeds when it’s subtle but veers off course when he veers outside the relationships at the film’s core. The conversations between Oliver and Anna are soft, short, understated – sometimes too much so, as in the breakup conversation that neither my wife nor I fully understood – contributing to a tentative feeling that conveys Oliver’s own uncertainty at entering a relationship that might not fail (and perhaps Anna’s uncertainty over the same). What I could have done without was Oliver’s inexplicable job – he’s some sort of artist or sketcher who ignores a rock band client’s request for an album cover, instead producing a series of badly-drawn sketches about the history of sadness that is far more about him (and emphasizing just how sad he is) than about the client, whose needs we never actually hear about anyway. Mills wants us to know just how Sad everyone is, but the dialogue and the tiny interactions between Oliver and Anna already provide that, leaving his sketches (e.g., “First couple too in love to be sad”) feeling extraneous. It was a heavy-handed flourish in a film that didn’t need it; Beginners wins you over with the delicate scenes between Oliver and Anna the contrast with the unfettered last few years for Hal.

* I don’t understand how this moved ended up with a rating of “R.” There’s no violence at all, and very little foul language. There’s no on-screen sex or even nudity – just a few shots of Melanie Laurent’s bare back, and if that merits an “R” rating, I must be one of the New Libertines or something. It seems to me that the ratings board members must have been watching the movie and saying, “Wow, what a nice film, we should make it PG or PG-13 since it’s so inoffe…oh my God there are two men kissing! Rate it R! RATE! IT! R!

* Ewan Macgregor was just as charming as a shy phone-company tech in Little Voice, a 1998 vehicle for singer Jane Horrocks, who plays a painfully shy woman with a hidden talent for impersonating great singers. (Those of you with young daughters know her as the voice of Fairy Mary in the Tinker Bell movies. Yes, you do, stop lying.) Horrocks owns the movie when she sings, but it’s a virtuoso performance from Michael Caine, who won a Golden Globe for the film, as the unscrupulous talent agent who sees one last chance to make a killing.

The Fighter.

I finally got around to watching The Fighter (on sale for $9.49 through that link) on Friday night – an odd experience seeing Amy Adams as a New England townie a few hours after I saw her in The Muppets – which makes it the ninth and final 2010 Best Picture nominee for me to watch. (I’m not watching 127 Hours, because I can’t stand James Franco, and that movie is basically him.) A few of you loved it, and a few of you said it was a decent movie with great performances; I’d put myself squarely in the latter camp.

Based very loosely on the story of Micky Ward (Mark Wahlberg), a boxer from Lowell who made a somewhat improbable comeback in his 30s after a hiatus from the sport, becoming the WBU light welterweight champion, at which point the film ends. (I know zilch about boxing, as you probably guessed.) Ward’s brother and part-time trainer, Dick Eklund (Christian Bale), was also a professional boxer whose career ended due to cocaine addiction and ended up in jail for armed robbery. The film melodramatizes their relationship, moving around several events in the timeline to heighten the tension, while also folding in their crazy mother, played by Melissa Leo, and Ward’s girlfriend Charlene (Adams), who provides him with some stability and common sense. In an inspired move by the directors, Ward’s other trainer, Mickey O’Keefe, is played by … Mickey O’Keefe himself, well enough that it never occurred to me that he wasn’t a professional actor.

The film itself is a tight but rather generic underdog sports film, where Ward gets beaten down in the ring and out of it, quitting boxing and eventually having his hand broken in a fight with police where he’s defending his idiot brother (which I don’t think ever actually happened). With Dick in jail, Micky throws off the deadweight of him and his mother, rededicates himself to training, and ends up winning several fights, one of which comes after some advice from a still-imprisoned Dick. The curve of the narrative is so smooth that I felt like I was being played.

But the performances are really out of sight. Bale and Leo won Oscars for Best Supporting Actor and Actress; Bale’s was a pretty easy call, but I thought Leo largely won because of her accent and look, with Adams delivering an equally strong but more nuanced performance. There’s a great scene where she and Micky are about to have a little afternoon delight – with a shot of her in black lingerie that is absolutely there because, hey, Amy Adams in black lingerie sounds great – that culminates with Adams beating the crap out of one of Micky’s twenty-nine sisters on the porch of the house where she lives; Charlene is tough, independent (which grates on Micky’s family), but guarded, and doesn’t have the same over-the-top I’m-so-wicked-local veneer as Leo’s portrayal of Alice as a scheming, white-trashy woman who sees Micky as a paycheck and Dick as a misunderstood kid, not as an addict, thief, and anchor on his brother. Wahlberg plays the title role but is so understated next to the manic Bale that he’s overshadowed, but a similarly ebullient character would have made the film unwatchable (never mind whether it would have been realistic).

Again, I don’t follow boxing or even remotely like the sport, but one thing I noticed was that the boxing scenes looked somewhat realistic – the punches looked like they were landing, as opposed to the standard “wow, he really made contact with that pocket of air” technique. I’m sure some of the boxing scenes were glamorized, and real fans of the sweet science could probably pick them apart (please do – I’m curious), but at least the makers of the film made an effort to make the fight scenes watchable to the non-fan.

And, because everyone loves a ranking, here are the Best Picture nominees from 2011, in one non-critic’s opinion, with links to my reviews of seven of them.

1. Winter’s Bone
2. The King’s Speech
3. The Social Network
4. Toy Story 3
5. True Grit
6. Inception
7. The Fighter
8. Black Swan
9. The Kids Are All Right
10. Sorry, I’m just not watching it.

Of course, those aren’t the best films of 2010, but it seemed like a good enough place to start. I have heard raves about Animal Kingdom, so that’s in the queue.

The Muppets.

When I originally heard that Jason Segel was writing a script for a brand-new Muppet movie that would attempt to reboot the franchise, I was excited, and nervous. It’s been almost 20 years since the last decent Muppet film (The Muppet Christmas Carol, among our favorite holiday movies), and after a long hiatus since the last one, it was going to take a big hit to overcome any skepticism after the mediocre Muppets from Space and the disastrous Muppet Treasure Island to revive the brand. Segel’s endeavor could easily have been the death of the Muppets, too. I’m beyond thrilled to report that it’s a rebirth instead, and one of the most enjoyable nostalgia projects I could imagine.

Segel has created a two-layered script that accomplishes the most important thing in any Muppet film: He has them put on a show, which, naturally, is needed in the story to save the theater from destruction at the hands of evil oil baron Tex Richman (played by Chris Cooper, clearly having the time of his life). The basic story has Segel’s character, Gary, and his little brother, Walter (who is a Muppet, but no one seems to realize this, which is a great conceit that just sits in the background like an inside joke), headed to Los Angeles with Gary’s girlfriend Mary (Amy Adams), where they go to tour the Muppet Studios only to learn of Richman’s evil plot. They track down Kermit the Frog, living in semi-retirement in the home that he should have shared with Miss Piggy, and persuade him to put the gang back together for “one more show.” And Walter, who has never been able to fit in as the lone felt creature in a town full of actual humans, lives the ultimate fan’s fantasy, working alongside his idols and finding, for the first time in his life, a community where he really fits in.

The macro story here, and the real theme of the The Muppets, is that there are, and have always been, millions of Muppet fans out there just waiting … and waiting … for someone (one of us, as it turned out) to bring them back into the spotlight in a movie that cuts right to the heart of what we love about the characters individually and as an ensemble. Segel is such a fan that he inserts himself and his fuzzy alter-ego brother into the movie, only to wisely work Gary and Mary back out of the story in the second half of the film so that the Muppets can take over. And take over they do, with Walter on board, and a great turn by Jack Black playing the, um, reluctant guest host of the show-within-the-film. Amy Adams also deserves mention for an incredibly game performance that includes a very silly dance number in the middle of a diner and a slew of wide-eyed, deadpan lines that kept emphasizing how very absurd all of this is. Having seen her in The Fighter a few hours later, I feel like she’s the Nicole Kidman of this generation of actresses, up for absolutely anything and able to nail whatever role she’s given; let’s hope she doesn’t botox herself into zombiedom in her 40s like Kidman has.

That’s not to say the celebrity cameos, such a critical element in the best Muppet movies, are absent – they’re there, and many of them make an impact in just a few seconds of screen time. Neil Patrick Harris has one line and it’s one of the funniest jokes in the film. Mickey Rooney’s cameo is a funny nod to past cameos. Jim Parsons’ cameo would be ruined if I tried to explain it, but he’s nails. I kept waiting for someone to point at Rashida Jones with both hands and say, “Ann Perkins,” and she was one of the best at interacting with the Muppets, grabbing Kermit by the lapels and shaking him like half the guest stars on the original The Muppet Show used to do. Dave Grohl hams it up as “Animool,” maybe his best performance since the “Big Me” video. And Zach Galfinakis has to be a lock to appear as Hobo Joe in every Muppet movie going forward.

Segel also shows off his knowledge of the characters with some Muppet cameos as well. The Beautiful Day Monster is taking pledge calls in the balcony, and Wayne and Wanda appear for a moment when the lights come back on after Chris Cooper briefly cuts the power to the theater. The Newsman (one of the few voices that didn’t work for me) appears briefly in the balcony as well. Marvin Suggs and the Muppaphone appear in the “Life’s a Happy Song” reprise. Behemoth is in Jack Black’s dressing room – and how did he not eat anything? – with a few other monsters I couldn’t name. If Segel had a checklist of Muppets to include, he couldn’t have been more complete.

The music, which really set the two good Muppet movies (the original and the Christmas Carol) apart, is outstanding here, making Bret McKenzie the somewhat unlikely heir to the legacy of Paul Williams, who wrote most of the music in those two earlier flicks. “Life’s a Happy Song” is the breakout hit, stuck in my head for the rest of the day (which is fine by me) and so good they included it twice, while “Man or Muppet” inserts some much-needed humor at a point where the film threatened to get all serious-like on us. But the gem on the soundtrack was actually written by a songwriting team largely responsible for writing bubblegum pop songs for Disney artists: “Pictures In My Head” has Kermit walking down the hall in his House of Usher, looking at old photographs of his castmates and wondering “Would anyone watch or even care, or did something break we can’t repair?” It’s the first of a surprising number of highly emotional moments in the film.

One of those other emotional moments comes when Segel, constantly paying homage to history, has Kermit and Miss Piggy perform a duet of “Rainbow Connection,” which is a high point of the film but had particular resonance for me. In 1994, PBS aired an episode of “Great Performances” on the life of Jim Henson; when they reach the end of his life in the documentary, the producers used “Rainbow Connection,” apparently at Jerry Juhl’s suggestion, to close the discussion of Henson’s life and death and lead into the closing credits. I’ve only seen the show once, when it first aired, but that song, already a favorite of mine, has always brought me back to that point in the documentary, where the full impact of our loss seems to hit all at once. (If whoever holds the copyright on that show has any sense of marketing, they’ll put it out on DVD now while the Muppets are hot again.)

If you don’t love these characters already, however, the film is going to feel a little thin. The story is good by Muppet movie standards, but the contortions required to get the Muppets back together and on the stage don’t leave much time for plot. The film is actually not that funny – it’s sweet, sentimental, almost romantic, but has only a handful of real laugh-out-loud moments, more from the humans than the Muppets. (I’m pleased to report that the much-maligned “fart shoes” joke turned out to be funnier, and more clever, than the trailer indicated.) Chris Cooper rapping is something I never need to see again – and really, can we just put a moratorium on older white male actors rapping badly in film and on TV? It’s not funny now, because it was never funny. I mentioned the Newsman’s voice being off, and Fozzie Bear’s voice was only intermittently right, like two people were behind it, or like the one person behind it couldn’t hold the right pitch and kept slipping out of character, although the vast majority of Muppet voices were more than good enough. I could also pick nits at the absence of a ballroom scene or Veterinarian’s Hospital, but now I’m just being (in my wife’s words) a “Muppet sap.”

I was a little surprised that they tweaked some of the Muppet characters’ personalities, although that may just emphasize just how much I have invested in the characters at this point. Kermit remains the flawed hero, frequently frustrated but less stalwart than in the past, and I missed his old habit of freaking out and flailing his flippers all over the place. (They had a chance, too, in the kidnapping discussion.) Gonzo seemed a little less, well, gonzo, and I don’t remember any lines from his pal Rizzo. Even Miss Piggy seemed a little older and wiser, with just one real “Hiiiii-YAH” in the film, although she made it count. But again, if you lack history with them, you’re not even noticing this stuff, let alone nitpicking like I am. You’ll find it a sweet film with fun music, corny humor, and very high production values compared to any previous Muppet film, but you won’t get all choked up when Kermit walks out of the theater doors for what might be the last time.

If you do love the characters, and I assume by this point you know where I stand on that subject, you couldn’t ask for a better film than this. It’s a tribute, a love letter, a nostalgia trip, a shot in the arm, and probably the impetus for a slew of sequels – and perhaps a revival of the TV show? Please? – written and performed by people who feel the same way we do. But the highest praise I can offer is that after we walked out of the theater, my five-year-old daughter, who knows the characters but obviously doesn’t have the same history with them, said to us, “I want to buy that movie.” I’m hoping her generation takes to these characters the way mine did.

Oh, and next spring, when I need to go see high school players scattered across the country, I am absolutely going to travel by map.

Top Chef S9E4.

Kind of an uneventful episode, especially since, of the five teams in the elimination challenge, four of them made extremely similar variations on chili – similar cuts of beef, similar flavor profiles, the chili even looked the same. One team took a gamble on a non-traditional approach and they failed. I respect the gamble, but making chili that tastes like mole is out there enough that the chefs couldn’t miss on execution, which they did.

The quickfire challenged the chefs to build dishes around the chile pepper of their choice, from poblanos to ghost chiles (although the latter is no longer the world’s hottest pepper, surpassed earlier this year by the Naga Viper cultivar). Still, the ghost chile is damn hot, and carries with it the biggest cash prize if the winning chef uses it in his/her dish … so why does only one of the chefs, Paul, choose it? They’re practically commanding you to pick that pepper, and we get wimpy chefs going for Anaheims and poblanos that toddlers in India use as palate cleansers. On the other end of the spectrum, Beverly – who might be insane, although I’m still refining that judgment – serves her peppers raw, which would be great if this was something other than a cooking show. Anyway, the result here was fairly obvious: If you use the most difficult ingredient effectively – and putting chiles with dairy or a similar rich fat like coconut is a great way to carry the heat while protecting diners’ mouths from gustatory Ragnarok – you win. And so it goes.

(Also: Chuy uses canned tomatoes. I can not imagine that there was any lack of fresh tomatoes in the Top Chef Kitchen, and he went for canned. Never mind the judgment call of that moment when he bypassed the genuine article – what chef ever looks for canned over fresh in any situation?)

Then the chefs head have to prepare giant pots of chili (now we’re talking about the stew) for the Tejas Rodeo. Split into five teams of three, we get the ridiculous battle for equipment and cooking space at the house – really, you built a beautiful kitchen for the chefs to use, but won’t let them use it? I’m not seeing the point here except to stir up a little drama – followed by an all-nighter that has the chefs dragging like an Atlanta reliever at the end of September. We get meat shortages at Whole Foods, which makes no sense, because you know the producers are calling the store ahead of time to say, “Incoming!” and perhaps give a heads-up on what items they might want to have on hand. As much as I love short ribs, though, I’m having a hard time picturing that in a chili – the fibers would get very stringy after they fall apart during all that time in the heat, right?

The shots of the chefs getting slaphappy overnight … whatever. I’m just here for the food. Although they are setting Chuy up to be a villain character down the road by giving him every chance to show off his ego on national television.

Judging: Not enough comments from patrons, in my opinion. The actual judges’ comments were helpful, but if the winners weren’t their call, then let’s hear more from the customers who voted. As for elimination, asking three sleep-deprived chefs to cook again is probably a bit much, but I thought Richie and Beverly were potentially the two weakest chefs there, and as long as Nyesha stuck around, I was fine with either of the other two leaving.

Random thoughts:

* I wonder if Paul’s dish will make the next Top Chef Quickfire Cookbook, perhaps modified for an easier-to-find hot pepper.

* Speaking of which, I think Chuy was the only chef to pronounce “habanero” correctly. There’s no tilde on the n, so it’s ha-bah-NAIR-oh, not ha-bah-NYEH-ro. The latter pronunciation reminds me of New York Italians who dropped the final vowels from words like mozzarella and locatelli. Maybe there’s some dialect of Italian where that’s correct, but in New York, it’s just affect.

* Really, the emphasis on all the waterworks seemed very overblown, given how little sleep the chefs had had by the time the elimination rolled around. I don’t care how stoic you are with seven hours of sleep, you’re going to struggle with your emotions after 30 hours or more without any rest.

* Did you know Texas chili has no beans in it? Man, I’m glad they reminded us of that fact … about fifteen times.

* No Hugh Acheson? Nothing against the ladies of the Border Grill, but this show definitely missed Hugh’s dark humor. His recap was typically hilarious: “Chuy wants to die under the table. This can be arranged but is not good TV.”

* Chris C. is going to end up with multiple restraining orders against him at this rate. Dude, we know Padma’s hot. Dial it down a notch. And really, you compare one of the most beautiful women in the world to Fabio?

* Last Chance Kitchen: I thought Tom’s “looks inventive, isn’t really” critique of Richie’s food spoke volumes about Richie’s style: In effect, he said Richie’s cooking was superficial, and I don’t think that would play on Top Chef anyway. It seems like Richie has the techniques down (aside from salt), but not the deeper understanding to deploy them in ways that can make an old dish feel new. It must really suck to lose, get ready to leave, and then lose again. Glad to see Keith moving forward – it seemed like Tom’s only real criticism was the weird pumpkin pie smear on the plate, as if Keith was trying to seem a little more avant garde than he is. I’m guessing whatever success he has on LCK going forward will come from sticking to his style of smart comfort food, rather than trying to be something he’s not.

* I was going to pick a final three, but I feel like we’re not seeing enough discussion of winning dishes for me to make anything more than a random guess, skewed by how much screen time they’re giving chefs who say weird things. Next week, I’ll take that plunge.

Ruhlman’s Twenty.

(Edit, 5/9/12: Ruhlman’s Twenty just won the James Beard Award for Best Cookbook, General Cooking. Not that it needed the validation.)

I’ve mentioned Ruhlman’s Twenty: 20 Techniques 100 Recipes A Cook’s Manifesto a few times already, having talked to the author on the November 11th podcast, but held off on a full review until I’d had a chance to cook a few things from the book. I’ve tried five recipes so far, all hits, and given how informative and readable the surrounding text is, this has quickly become one of the most essential cookbooks I own.

The “Twenty” of the book’s title refers to twenty chapters, each revolving around a core cooking technique or, in a few cases, a critical ingredient such as salt, eggs, or onions, mastery of which is critical for success in the kitchen. I can’t think of anything a home cook would need to know that’s not covered somewhere in this book, and he runs from basic steps to advanced home-cooking techniques such as building egg white foams, mounting sauces with butter, and making confit with duck or lemons. But what has always set Ruhlman apart, aside from his conversational writing style, is that he drills down to the fundamentals behind a recipe. Each section has several pages of explanation, peppered with anecdotes or even quotes from chefs Ruhlman has worked with, and each recipe has more commentary. The one stir-frying recipe explains why restaurant stir-fries are different than anything you can produce at home, then gives six key tips for producing the best stir-fried dishes possible on your consumer-grade stove.

For Thanksgiving, I used two of the book’s three recipes involving duck, one in the chapter on acid (seared duck breasts with cranberry gastrique), the other in the chapter on braising (braised duck legs), and both were straightforward with excellent results. The legs couldn’t be easier – salt them the night before, sweat some aromatics in a pot, add the duck, white wine, thyme, and water just to cover, and braise in a 300 degree oven for three hours; I managed to keep one leg together for the photograph but the other was so tender that the meat fell off the bone when I tried to extract it from the pot. I brined the breasts overnight to keep them moist, since I tend to prefer duck breast closer to medium than the recommended medium-rare (it gets dry and tough when overcooked, and the brining at least slows down the drying-out); Ruhlman’s recipes should hammer home how easy it is to make duck at home, because searing the breasts requires nothing more complicated than cross cuts on the skin and heating up a single heavy skillet. Even the sauce was simple and produced a bright-red result with the sweet/sour profile that pairs extremely well with the lean, dark breast meat. (Mistral in Boston also serves a cranberry gastrique with its signature duck dish, although they roast a half-bird rather than braising the legs separately.) Using both recipes also allowed me to render about ¾ cup of fat from the two dishes, which I’ll deploy today or tomorrow on some Yukon Golds. The only hitch was that the sauce made by reducing the braising liquid from the legs, boosted with sherry vinegar and fish sauce (for umami), didn’t do much for me – and the leg meat didn’t need any help anyway.

I joked with Ruhlman that cooking scrambled eggs over simmering water, instead of directly over the heat source, was “crazy talk,” but the science behind it is pretty sound – it’s the same way you melt chocolate on the stovetop or make zabaglione (a thick custard of eggs and sweet marsala, beaten while sitting over simmering water). This method heats the food gently and slowly, preventing overcooking or scorching, and in the case of the eggs keeping the finished product soft. You have more time to develop curds, and unless you walk away or crank up the heat on the water, you’ll end up with a pile of soft, custardy eggs with a built-in sauce that is incredibly rich, with the texture of a dessert dish in a normally pedestrian breakfast food.

Ruhlman’s pan-roasted pork tenderloin uses one of my favorite techniques, what I learned as the “sear-roast” – sear it on the stovetop, finish in the oven – but boosts it through aggressive seasoning and frequent basting with a butter-garlic-thyme sauce that builds in the pan as you cook the meat. Pork tenderloin has become more popular (and more expensive) in recent years because, as the name implies, it’s naturally tender, since the muscle does virtually no work while the animal is still oinking. The downside is that it’s lean and dries out easily, so boosting it with butter as Ruhlman does makes perfect sense, while the sear-roast technique gives you substantial flavor from the Maillard reaction while allowing you to slow the cooking of the interior in the oven. One thing worth mentioning about the book that appears in this recipe is that Ruhlman assumes some basic familiarity with many ingredients – for example, he explains here that you might want to deal with the tapered end of the tenderloin to prevent overcooking, but doesn’t discuss trimming the tough and extremely annoying silverskin, which can cause the meat to curl during cooking. I don’t see that as an oversight, but it might make Ruhlman’s Twenty a bit intimidating as a first cookbook.

The flip side of that assumption is that Ruhlman also assumes some intelligence and aspirations on the part of the reader. The recipes work if you follow them step-by-step, but when you read the text around them and at the head of each chapter, you build your understanding of the twenty techniques to the point where the recipes become guidelines; in that respect, this book has more in common with his slim but essential volume Ratio, which distilled numerous recipes for baked goods, stocks, and sauces to ratios of core ingredients to allow for endless improvisations.

One great example of that is the two-step pan sauce for roasted chicken, which starts with a basic “rustic” sauce using just white wine, onion, and carrot (the last two are “aromatics”), then adds a second step if you want a “refined” sauce that uses butter, shallot, and herbs, finishing with the optional lemon juice and/or mustard. You can build almost any pan sauce from that framework; the only essential ingredient is the butter, and perhaps the shallot, but you can substitute or add aromatics or herbs, or use a different deglazing liquid. I did it straight, just switching around some herbs based on what I had in the house, and it was among the best pan sauces I’ve ever made, in part because Ruhlman has you deglaze and reduce multiple times to intensify the flavors in the aromatics. Do it his way once (and read the surrounding text) and you’ll understand the reasons behind each step, making you the master of the recipe the second time around.

I should also mention that the photography in Ruhlman’s Twenty is off the charts – these are photographs that will make you want to head for the kitchen, right from the first recipe, sage-garlic-brined pork chops (breaded, pan-fried, and finished with a butter-caper sauce, with the rest of the recipe on page 315). The braised lamb shank photo is beautiful enough that I thought briefly about eating lamb again – and that recipe includes eighteen clear photos to take you through the recipe step by step.

The Wire, season two.

The Wire: The Complete Series is on sale again on amazon for almost 60% off, at $85.49 – perfect timing for me, as many of you have asked for my thoughts on season two, which I just finished watching on Friday.

I get why so many of you warned me that season two might be disappointing; some said it’s the worst season, or just not as good as the first, or just so different that I might not like it. I wouldn’t say any of that held true for me, though – it was just as good as the first, in large part because it was so different, and aside from one complaint about the plot I would be hard-pressed to offer any negative sentiments.

Again, for the handful of you who haven’t seen the series (I’m fairly certain I’m the last one on this particular ship), The Wire follows an ad hoc group of Baltimore police officers who, under the charge of Lieutenant Cedric Daniels, form a major case squad to pursue drug dealing operations. In season two, the squad has been spread to the winds after the end of the Barksdale case from the first season, but gradually Lt. Daniels puts the group back together to pursue a vendetta for a police commander, Stan Valchek, who is angry with the leader of the dockworkers’ union over the placement of a stained glass window in their local church. (Seriously.) That case mushrooms into a sprawling investigation that links the union to white slavery, black marketeering, and a source of drugs for Proposition Joe’s gang (which is a good thing, because we need more Proposition Joe).

The feel of the season is different because of the change in theme. The first season was very much about the inherent fallacy behind the war on drugs, and how ineffective and expensive that battle is likely to be. The second season revolves around the decline of blue-collar employment, which, like the drug war, is behind the economic and social decay of many older American cities. The dockworkers are struggling and their union head bets it all, in effect, on double-zero, putting illegally gained funds into lobbying efforts to dredge a nearby canal and increase port traffic. Those funds are the proceeds of payoffs from smugglers, who attract the attention of the police when one of the containers contains the bodies of thirteen dead women who were being smuggled into the U.S. to work as prostitutes, likely under duress.

The new storyline brought in a host of new characters, most strong, led by the union leader, Frank Sobotka, and the port officer who ends up joining the major case squad, Beadie Russell. Sobotka’s story plays out almost like a classical tragedy – he’s probably doomed from the start, and is so heavily invested in his work that he’s ignorant of the impending danger to members of his immediate family. (Ziggy, his son, was one character I could have done without, or simply done with less of; I almost felt sorry for him when he finally snapped, but then again, could anything we know of his history really excuse what he did?) And Sobotka is faced with some difficult choices, ones with nothing but gray area, because of his moral and political responsibility to his fellow dockworkers.

Russell was a little less well-formed than Sobotka, and her development from security guard to investigator wasn’t as well written as the development of Carver in season one from goofball to surveillance expert (although I suppose this season showed that was a fluke and he just regressed to the mean). The Russell character worked more because of how Amy Ryan played her, almost like she was trying to shed the stereotypical soft female cop image and develop some toughness, much of which falls apart in the final episode. People win Emmys for that sort of thing – that is, when the Emmys are aware that the series exists in the first place.

The expansion to the docks comes at the expense of the Barksdale storyline, although the writers did a solid job of keeping that thread alive throughout the season so they can pick it up again at a future point. Avon Barksdale remains in jail, so Stringer Bell – still the strongest central character in the show from my point of view – becomes more central, even ordering the murder of a potential turncoat and setting up a hit on someone Barksdale hired to work for the group. Bodie’s attempts to grow into some sort of leader within the Barksdale crew was one of the stronger points in the first half of the season, but was dropped for the second half as the focus shifted more and more to the docks. His scene in the flowershop, while insanely silly, was a highlight of the season for me.

That one complaint about the plot I mentioned earlier was pretty significant, even if it was probably realistic (and here comes a spoiler). The FBI agent who tips off the Greek about raids and eventually about Sobotka felt like a tacked-on element, as if the writers needed to ensure that this case wasn’t a total win for the cops, with very little on the agent’s true motivation for protecting a murderous mobster. Is he unaware of the Greek’s body count? Does he view that as an acceptable tradeoff for the information the Greek provides, especially on terrorism? Is this sanctioned by his bosses? Will he ever face any consequences? I get that a rout for the cops would seem too network-police-procedural, and absolutely not realistic, but to have them sunk because of a leak from outside their group, felt like a deus ex machina for the bad guys – a less compelling resolution than we saw in season one.

* I’m not sure what was funnier – Proposition Joe’s response to Sergei’s comments about family (“I got motherfuckin’ nephews and cousins fucking all my shit up…”) or McNulty’s one line when they finally move in on the white slavery operation (“You’re late”), but I remain continually impressed by the writers’ ability to weave in humor without interrupting the flow of the narrative. If you think about it, not only is that more like real life than the idea of separating humorous moments from everything else, but it’s the natural human response to stress, anxiety, or sometimes even grief or despair. It should appear everywhere, and should be seamless. That doesn’t make it easier to write, but it does mean it’s important to make the effort.

* And the wait for the payoff on the “Why always Boris?” joke – one of the longest I can remember in any TV series – was absolutely worth it. I wonder if that was planned from the start.

* So does anyone else think FedEx knew they’d get tremendous word of mouth by hiring the actor who played Bodie to appear in one of their new commercials, or was it just their own dumb luck?

Top 30 boardgames.

This is the fourth iteration of my own personal boardgame rankings, with more games listed as my own collection of these games grows ever more slightly out of control. It’s not intended to be a critic’s list or an analytical take on the games; it’s about 80% based on how much we enjoy the games, with everything else – packaging and design, simplicity of rules, and in one case, the game’s importance within its niche – making up the rest. We are not hardcore gamers; I don’t mind a complex game, but I prefer games that offer more with less – there is an elegance in simple rules or mechanics that lead to a fun, competitive game. Don’t expect this to line up with the rankings at BoardGameGeek.

The list includes 30 titles, although we have more than that, just because the list was getting way too long and I wouldn’t really recommend anything not listed or mentioned here. I own every game on this list except Diplomacy and Tigris & Euphrates, and with one exception (Agricola) have played every game on here many times. As always, clicking on the game title takes you to amazon.com; if I have a full review posted on the site, the link to that will follow immediately. I’ve linked to a few of my app reviews where appropriate.

I’ve got most of these games in my aStore on amazon and am gradually adding the rest.

30. Tikal: Full review. Strongly balanced game of board exploration, but the length of time between any single player’s turns, especially with three or four players, is a real drawback. Players compete to control temples and acquire treasures while building out a board representing a Central American jungle; control of those temples can change from turn to turn, and each player’s ten “actions” presents an enormous list of potential decisions to position his/her pieces for maximum points in each of the scoring rounds. That makes it interesting to play, but also leads to the long gaps between turns. Plays two to seven, but doesn’t play well with two.

29. Maori: I haven’t reviewed this one yet, as I just got it earlier this month and have only played it (and lost, as it turns out) three times. It’s a light two- to four-player game, relatively high in the luck department for this list, with more opportunities to screw your opponent in a two player game, whereas with four players you’re focusing more on your own strategy and less on others’. In the game, players compete to fill out their own boards of 16 spaces by drawing island tiles from a central 4×4 grid, where the available selections depend on the movement of a boat token that travels around that grid’s perimeter. Players must form completed islands to receive points, and lose points for open spaces. Currently out of print, but amazon has plenty of new copies through marketplace sellers.

28. Alhambra: Full review. After playing it a few more times, I do like it more than I did the first time around, but the method used to acquire money is an awful mechanic that really screws the game up (for me) with more than two players. One of the cooler-looking games in our collection.

27. Zooloretto: Full review. A fun game, but a bit of a trifle compared to the others further up this list. You’re a zookeeper trying to fill his zoo’s three enclosures (expandable to four) with animals that arrive each turn on trucks available to all players, but each enclosure can only hold one type of animal at a time. There’s a cost to switching animals around, and there’s a penalty for picking up animals you can’t house, with points coming for filling an enclosure or filling all spots but one. I’m a little surprised this won the Spiel des Jahres, as it lacks the elegance of most winners of that award, and the two-player variant rules included in the game don’t work at all. I have played a simplified version of the game with my daughter, who loves the animal tokens and the well-drawn zoo boards. It’s a good starter game in the German-style genre, but not the best.

26. Acquire. Monopoly for grown-ups. Build hotel chains up from scratch, gain a majority of the shares, merge them, and try to outearn all your opponents. The game hinges heavily on its one random element – the draw of tiles from the pool each turn – but the decisions on buying stock in existing chains and how to sell them after a merger give the player far more control over his fate than he’d have in Monopoly. There’s a two-player variant that works OK, but it’s best with at least three people. The game looks a lot nicer now; I have a copy from the mid-1980s that still has the 1960s artwork and color scheme.

25. Race For The Galaxy: Full review. It’s a well-designed game that requires that players know the cards in the entire deck to play effectively. I know several of you who swear by it, and I do appreciate the depth of the design in both the mechanics and the variety of cards, opening up a handful of core strategies that depend on which card you receive as your “start world.” The debate over whether the military strategy or the produce/consume*2 strategy is superior might be the boardgame world’s closest analogue to the Mac vs PC debate. But the bottom line for me is that you have to play this game a number of times to learn the deck and understand what cards you need to execute each strategy, and that’s a very big hurdle for a new player.

24. San Juan: Full review. The card game version of Puerto Rico, but far, far simpler, and very portable. I like this as a light game that lets you play a half-dozen times in an evening, but all it really shares with Puerto Rico is a theme and the concept of players taking different roles in each turn. It plays well with two players but also works with three or four. I get that saying this is a better game than Race for the Galaxy (they were developed in tandem before RftG split off) is anathema to most serious boardgamers, but the fact that you can pick this game up so much more easily is a major advantage in my mind, more than enough to balance out the significant loss of complexity.

23. Jambo. Full review. A two-player card game where the deck is virtually everything, meaning that there’s a high element of chance based on what cards you draw; if you don’t draw enough of the cards that allow you to sell and purchase wares, it’ll be hard for you to win. Each player is an African merchant dealing in six goods and must try to buy and sell them enough times to go from 20 gold at the game’s start to 60 or more at the end. We played this wrong a few times, then played it the right way and found it a little slow, as the deck includes a lot of cards of dubious value.

22. Diplomacy. Risk for grown-ups, with absolutely zero random chance – it’s all about negotiating. I wrote about the history of Diplomacy (and seven other games) for mental_floss in 2010, concluding with: “One of a handful of games (with Risk) in both the GAMES Magazine and Origin Awards Halls of Fame, Diplomacy is an excellent choice if you enjoy knife fights with your friends and holding grudges that last well beyond the final move.” I think that sums it up perfectly.

21. Agricola: The most complex game we’ve tried, with the steepest learning curve. Very well made aside from the square animal pegs, which we replaced (at the suggestion of one of you) with actual animal-shaped pieces I bought via amazon. You’re a farmer trying to raise enough food to feed your family, but also trying to grow your family so you have more help on the farm. The core game play isn’t that complex, but huge decks of cards offering bonuses, shortcuts, or special skills make the game much more involved. It was out of print this summer but appears to be back. (Credit to my wife for finding one of the few remaining new copies out there for my birthday, ordering it from a site based in England.)

20. Power Grid: Full review. This might be the Acquire for the German-style set, as the best business- or economics-oriented game I’ve found. Each player tries to build a power grid on the board, bidding on plants at auction, placing stations in cities, and buying resources to fire them. Those resources become scarce and the game’s structure puts limits on expansion in the first two “phases.” It’s not a simple game to learn and a few rules are less than intuitive, but I’m not sure I’ve seen a game that does a better job of turning resource constraints into something fun. Disclaimer: My wife doesn’t like this game because she says the board and cards look “depressing.”

19. Glen More: Full review. Build your Scottish settlement, grow wheat, make whiskey. Sure, you can do other stuff, like acquire special tiles (including Loch Ness!) or acquire the most chieftains or earn victory points by trading other resources, but really, whiskey, people. The tile selection mechanic is the biggest selling point, as players move on a track around the edge of the central board and may choose to skip one or more future turns by jumping further back to acquire a better tile. Seems to be out of print, but available through amazon marketplace sellers.

18. Puerto Rico: Full review. It’s grown on me, especially since I got to try it out a few times online via Tropic Euro, although I’ve had friends and readers tell me it can become monotonous after a lot of games. You’re attempting to populate and build your own island, bringing in colonists, raising plantations, developing your town, and shipping goods back to the mother country. Very low luck factor, and just the right amount of screw-your-neighbor (while helping yourself, the ultimate defense). Unfortunately, the corn-and-ship strategy is really tough to beat, reducing the game’s replay value for me.

17. Lost Cities: Full review. This was the best two-person game we’d found, from the prolific designer Reiner Knizia, and the most portable game as well, since it can be played with nothing but the game cards. We’ve since moved on to some more complex two-player games, but for simplicity (without becoming dumb) this one is hard to top. The deck comprises 12 cards in each of five colors, including cards numbered 2 through 10 and three “investment” cards to double, triple, or quadruple the profit or loss the player earns in that color. Players take turns drawing from the deck but may only place cards in increasing order, so if you draw a green 5 after you played the 6, tough luck. You can knock out a game in 15 minutes or less, so it’s one to play multiple times in a sitting.

16. Samurai: Review of the iOS app, which is identical to the board game. I bought the physical game after a few months of playing the app, and aside from a slightly dated design and look to the pieces and the board, it’s a great game – simple to learn, complex to play, works very well with two players, plays very differently with three or four as the board expands. Players compete to place their tiles on a map of Japan, divided into hexes, with the goal of controlling the hexes that contain buddha, farmer, or soldier tokens. Each player has hex tiles in his color, in various strengths, that exert control over the tokens they show; samurai tokens that affect all three token types; boats that sit off the shore and affect all token types; and special tokens that allow the reuse of an already-placed tile or allow the player to switch two tokens on the board. Trying to figure out where your opponent might screw you depending on what move you make is half the fun.

15. Vikings: Full review. Currently out of print, and unavailable through that link (which I’m including anyway because used copies may appear there in the future). A very clever tile placement game in which players place island and ship tiles in their areas and then place vikings of six different colors on those tiles to maximize their points. Some vikings score points directly, but can’t score unless a black “warrior” viking is placed above them. Grey “boatsman” vikings are necessary to move vikings you’ve stored on to unused tiles. And if you don’t have enough blue “fisherman” vikings, you lose points at the end of the game for failing to feed everyone. Tile selection comes from a rondel that moves as tiles come off the board, with each space on the rondel assigning a monetary value to the tiles; tiles become cheaper as the number remaining decreases. You’re going to end up short somewhere, so deciding early where you’ll punt is key. I’m sad to see it out of print.

14. Orient Express: An outstanding game that’s long out of print (although there are two used copies on sale via that link); I’m lucky enough to still have the copy my father bought for me in the 1980s. It takes those logic puzzles where you try to figure out which of five people held which job and lived on which street and had what for breakfast and turns them into a murder mystery board game with a fixed time limit. When the Orient Express reaches its destination, the game ends, so you need to move fast and follow the clues. The publishers still sell the expansions, adding up to 30 more cases for you to solve.

13. Battle Line: Full review. Among the best two-player games we’ve found, designed by Reiner Knizia, who is also behind Lost Cities. Each player tries to build formations on his/her side of the nine flags that stand in a line between him and his opponent; formations include three cards, and the various formation types resemble poker hands, with a straight flush of 10-9-8 in one color as the best formation available. Control three adjacent flags, or any five of the nine, and you win. But ten tactics cards allow you to bend the rules, by stealing a card your opponent has played, raising the bar for a specific flag from three cards to four, or playing one of two wild cards that can stand in for any card you can’t draw. There’s a fair amount of randomness involved, but playing nine formations at once with a seven-card hand allows you to diversify your risk. The iOS app is among the best as well.

12. Thurn and Taxis: Full review. I admit to a particularly soft spot for this game, as I love games with very simple rules that require quick thinking with a moderate amount of foresight. (I don’t care for chess, which I know is considered the intellectual’s game, because I look three or four moves ahead and see nothing but chaos.) Thurn und Taxis players try to construct routes across a map of Germany, using them to place mail stations and to try to occupy entire regions, earning points for doing so, and for constructing longer and longer routes. Just don’t do what I did and play it against an operations consultant, lest you get your clock cleaned. Currently out of print.

11. Small World: Full review. I think the D&D-style theme does this game a disservice – that’s all just artwork and titles, but the game itself requires some tough real-time decisions. Each player uses his chosen race to take over as many game spaces as possible, but the board is small and your supply of units runs short quickly, forcing you to consider putting your race into “decline” and choosing a new one. But when you choose a new one is affected by what you stand to lose by doing so, how well-defended your current civilization’s position is, and when your opponents are likely to go into decline.

10. Tigris and Euphrates: Review of the iOS app. The magnum opus from Reiner Knizia, a two- to four-player board game where players fight for territory on a grid that includes the two rivers of the game’s title, but where the winning player is the one whose worst score (of four) is the best. Players gain points for placing tiles in each of four colors, for having their “leaders” adjacent to monuments in those colors, and for winning conflicts with other players. Each player gets points in those four colors, but the idea is to play a balanced strategy because of that highest low score rule. The rules are a little long, but the game play is very straightforward, and the number of decisions is large but manageable. One of two games on this list I don’t own in physical form; the current version (sold through that amazon link) includes some minor expansions I haven’t tried.

9. Pandemic: Full review. We haven’t tried many cooperative games, but this one sets a very high bar. Two to four players work together to stop global outbreaks of four diseases that spread in ways that are only partly predictable, and the balance between searching for the cures to those diseases and the need to stop individual outbreaks before they spill over and end the game creates tremendous tension that usually lasts until the very end of the event deck at the heart of the game. I haven’t tried the On The Brink expansion, but several people (including my sister and her husband) rave about what it brings to the base game. If you’re looking for a cooperative game you can play with kids, try Forbidden Island, from the same developer but much easier to learn and to win.

8. Jaipur: Full review. Jaipur has supplanted Lost Cities as our go-to two-player game, just as easy to learn but with two shades of additional complexity and a bit less randomness. In Jaipur, the two players compete to acquire collections of goods by building sets of matching cards in their hands, balancing the greater point bonuses from acquiring three to five goods at once against the benefit of taking one or two tokens to prevent the other player from getting the big bonuses. The game moves quickly due to a small number of decisions, like Lost Cities, so you can play two or three full games in an hour.

7. Stone Age: Full review. Really a tremendous game, with lots of real-time decision-making but simple mechanics and goals that first-time players always seem to pick up quickly. It’s also very hard to hide your strategy, so newbies can learn through mimicry – thus forcing veteran players to change it up on the fly. Each player is trying to build a small stone-age civilization by expanding his population and gathering resources to construct buildings worth varying amounts of points, but must always ensure that he feeds all his people on each turn.

6. Dominion: Full review. The definitive deck-building game, with no actual board. Dominion’s base set – there are four major expansions out there, including the potential standalone Dominion: Intrigue game – includes money cards, action cards, and victory points cards. Each player begins with seven money cards and three victory cards and, shuffling and drawing five cards from his own deck each turn, must add cards to his deck to allow him to have the most victory points when the last six-point victory card is purchased. I don’t think we have a multi-player game with a smaller learning curve, and the fact that the original set alone comes with 25 action cards but each game you play only includes 10 means it offers unparalleled replayability even before you add an expansion set. We own Dominion Seaside (which is outstanding) and Dominion: Alchemy (which I find a little weird), plus a standalone expansion further up this list.

5. The Settlers of Catan: I had this on top of the rankings every previous time I did this list, but it’s not realistic for me to rank it there any more when we rarely pull the game out to play it. It made this market, as a game with simple rules that were easy to learn, less luck than the typical old-school board game, and several different strategies that could lead you to victory. It’s just been surpassed by better games – games that are more fun, more complex, better designed – to the point where it’s more of a gateway game, even for us, than a core game we’ll return to again and again. We did play it dozens of times over the last few years, and if you own nothing on this list (and are good with a game that requires at least three players), this is an excellent place to start.

4. Dominion: Intrigue. Intrigue can be combined with the base game of Dominion, but unlike other Dominion expansions (of which there are now approximately 82, with a new one released every other week, or so it seems) Intrigue is a complete game right out of the box because it includes the money and point cards. And it’s better than the original game when both are viewed without any expansions because it’s more interactive – Intrigue lives up to its name in the sense that you should spend much of your time either plotting against your neighbors or trying to defend yourself, which makes the “Big Money” strategy in the base game much less effective. The changes make the game longer, but more even, and more fun.

3. Ticket to Ride. Full review. Actually a series of games, all working on the same theme: You receive certain routes across the map on the game board – U.S. or Europe, mostly – and have to collect enough train cards in the correct colors to complete those routes. But other players may have overlapping routes and the tracks can only accommodate so many trains. Like Dominion, it’s very simple to pick up, so while it’s not my favorite game to play, it’s my favorite game to bring or bring out when we’re with people who want to try a new game but either haven’t tried anything in the genre or aren’t up for a late night. I do recommend the 1910 expansion to anyone who gets the base Ticket to Ride game, as it has larger, easier-to-shuffle cards and offers more routes for greater replayability. We also own the Swiss and Nordic boards, which only play two to three players and involve more blocking than the U.S. and Europe games do, so I don’t recommend them.

2. 7 Wonders: Full review. 7 Wonders has swept the major boardgame awards (yes, there are such things) this year for good reason – it’s the best new game to come on the scene in a few years, combining complex decisions, fast gameplay, and an unusual mechanic around card selections where each player chooses a card from his hand and then passes the remainder to the next player. Players compete to build out their cities, each of which houses a unique wonder of the ancient world, and must balance their moves among resource production, buildings that add points, military forces, and trading. We saw no dominant strategy, several that worked well, and nothing that was so complex that we couldn’t quickly pick it up after screwing up our first game. The only negative here is the poorly written rules, but after one play it becomes far more intuitive. Plays best with three or more players, but the two-player variant works well.

1. Carcassonne. Full review. I wrote last year that the game “keeps growing on me,” and that has proven true, especially with the best-of-breed iOS app (in which I have now played at least four of you). It brings ease of learning, tremendous replayability (I know I use that word a lot here, but it does matter), portability (you can put all the tiles and meeples in a small bag and stuff it in a suitcase), and plenty of different strategies and room for differing styles of play. You build the board as you go: Each player draws a tile at random and must place it adjacent to at least one tile already laid in a way that lines up any roads or cities on the new tile with the edges of the existing ones. You get points for starting cities, completing cities, extending roads, or by claiming farmlands adjacent to completing cities. It’s great with two players, and it’s great with four players. You can play independently, or you can play a little offense and try to stymie an opponent. The theme makes sense. The tiles are well-done in a vaguely amateurish way – appealing for their lack of polish. And there’s a host of expansions if you want to add a twist or two. We own the Traders and Builders expansion, which I like mostly for the Builder, an extra token that allows you to take an extra turn when you add on to whatever the Builder is working on, meaning you never have to waste a turn when you draw a plain road tile if you sit your Builder on a road. We also have Inns and Cathedrals, which we’ve only used once; it adds some double-or-nothing tiles to roads and cities, a giant meeple that counts as two when fighting for control of a city/road/farm, as well as the added meeples needed to play with a sixth opponent.

Games I’ve dropped from the list, because the article was getting too long: Babel, Metro, Rivals for Catan (card game). I also removed the party game Wise and Otherwise, only because I chose to limit this list to strategy games. We do still like W&O.

I own Through the Desert and Le Havre but have yet to play either. I’ve tried Ascension and Wits & Wagers but wouldn’t rank either one in the top 30. Beyond those, I’m open to suggestions for future purchases!