The Avengers Disassemble in the Surprise New Trailer for Captain America: Civil War
The Captain America movies are the undersung gem of Marvel’s on-screen universe. Not that they’re some sort of secret—Captain America: Winter Soldier made more than $700 million at the box office—but that installment, in particular, is arguably the best Marvel film. Not because it reinvents the superhero movie formula. (It doesn’t, instead mixing it with elements of the paranoid thrillers of the 1970s.) But because it executes it so well, with an emphasis on emotion and plot and character, in addition to well-grounded action. (I’ve rarely been so surprised to find myself tear up.)
Now, on Jimmy Kimmel Live! last night, Chris Evans and Robert Downey, Jr. revealed the surprise trailer for Captain America: Civil War. The unexpected greatness of Winter Soldier wasn’t lost on Marvel: The movie is directed by the same team (Joe and Anthony Russo) and written by the same screenwriters (Christopher Markus and Stephen McFeely)—all of whom Marvel has also now hired for its two-part Avengers: Infinity War movies. And it seems to have a similar vibe, focusing on the heart-wrenching drama of two old friends turned against each other. With a name as big as Civil War, it’s a nice surprise that the trailer makes the movie look so measured, almost intimate. The movie also seems to pick up right where the first two Captain America movies left off, so if you still haven’t watched them, now is the time to catch up.
Jane the Virgin’s Radically Frank Depiction of Early Motherhood
Jane the Virgin is not short of critical accolades; its first season was lauded for how sharp the writing is, for Gina Rodriguez’s stellar performance as Jane, and for how grounded its characters are in spite of the series’s humorous hyper-reality. I’m sure it will end up on some of this year’s lists of top returning shows, as it absolutely deserves to. If I had to bet, though, I’d say that it’s not going to appear on many lists of Most Serious, Groundbreaking, Momentous Series of the Decade. Very often, it’s a silly show. Its pace is lickety-split, it makes hashtag jokes, and its most beloved character is a running joke about pomposity. It’s also really fun, perhaps the surest disqualifier for the “serious” label.
For my money, though, season two of Jane the Virgin is doing some of the most serious, most valuable work I’ve seen in a long time, and that work is rooted in a radically frank depiction of new motherhood.
Jessica Jones Never Takes Off Her Leather Jacket. Good Thing It’s the Perfect Superhero Uniform for Her.
In one episode of Netflix’s Jessica Jones, the eponymous superhero is sitting cross-legged on her friend Trish’s couch eating fistfuls of potato chips. Trish is pumped: “This is it,” she says, excited. “This is the one.” She’s brandishing a white sleeveless pleather jumpsuit striped with two wide bands of turquoise blue. The right hip is adorned with an enormous purple gem in the shape of a diamond. Jessica rolls her eyes. Trish has designed Jessica’s superhero costume and a name to go with it: Jewel.
This scene occurs about halfway through Episode 5, “AKA The Sandwich Saved Me,” and we already know Jessica well enough to predict how she will respond to the jumpsuit. “Tell me you’re kidding,” she says to Trish. “Superheroes wear costumes!” Trish protests. ““The only place anyone is wearing that is trick-or-treating or as part of some kinky role-playing scenario,” Jessica says, looking disgusted.
Katniss Pines for Pita Bread in This Terrific Hunger Games Parody
Through three books and four movies, Hunger Games fans have witnessed Katniss Everdeen reject the advances of her hunky best friend, Gale Hawthorne, for the company of the kind, soft-spoken Peeta Mellark, her one true love.
Or so we thought. Katniss and Peeta always seemed a bit off as a couple, and the latest video from YouTube parody channel PistolShrimps shows why: It’s pita, not Peeta, that Katniss desires. Turns out all the Mockingjay wanted was some soft, gently leavened flatbread.
Claire Vaye Watkins’ Tin House Essay “On Pandering” Has a Very Limited Definition of “Male Writers”
This week, Tin House published a meaty essay by Claire Vaye Watkins about gender, reading, publishing, misogyny, motherhood, art, and—most of all—pandering. The 5,000 word piece—originally presented as a lecture at the 2015 Tin House Writers’ Workshop (where, a disclaimer informs us, it was “met with enthusiastic applause”)—ties together several threads. For one, how the sleepy and picturesque college town around Bucknell caters to rich students seeking a safe form of self-discovery. Also, how an email from a prominent literary editor exemplifies sexism in the writing world. How Watkins’ whiteness gives her assurances that writers of color don’t have, empowering her to more easily lay claim to the “writer” label. How she feels like her motherhood erodes her right to that label. How she wants us to respond: “Burn this motherfucking system to the ground and build something better.”
You’re Doing It Wrong: Brussels Sprouts
Brussels sprouts’ transformation from maligned cafeteria gross-out fare to foodie luminary is complete. Trendy New York restaurants gussy them up with pig fat and sell them by the tiny $8 plateful; David Chang’s Brussels sprouts at New York’s Momofuku were so popular he had to take them off the menu for his cooks’ well-being. Popular food bloggers Ree Drummond (“absolutely to die for”), Deb Perelman (“I love those tiny cabbage-heads”), and Heidi Swanson (“it's not unusual for us to cook them … two or three times a week”) have sworn their allegiance. “I love Brussels sprouts,” shout t-shirts, bumper stickers, and baseball caps.
We get it: Brussels sprouts are delicious. Named for the Belgian capital, though they originated in ancient Rome, they’re pleasantly dense—all those tightly packed layers of leaves—and milder than their cruciferous relatives (broccoli, cauliflower, cabbage). It’s pretty hard to ruin them unless you boil them to death or undercook them. Frankly, it’s their erstwhile bad reputation, not their newfound popularity, that’s baffling (although some studies have suggested that some people’s loathing of the vegetable is due to genetics rather than philistinism).
Making Brussels sprouts delicious requires the usual suspects for making things delicious: fat, salt, and good timing. Fat is necessary less for its flavor than for its browning and crisping properties—without it, your Brussels sprouts will never turn golden, crunchy, and gently caramelized. Salt is obviously a universal flavor enhancer, but it’s especially necessary to balance out Brussels sprouts’ inherent sweetness. And timing is more important for sprouts than for many other vegetables: You need to get them both 1) fully tender, but not mushy, and 2) deeply browned, but not charcoal-like.
My suggestion: soy-roasted Brussels sprouts, which might be called, more accurately, soy-baked-and-then-roasted Brussels sprouts.
Who Was Net Guy? What’s Up With the Tiger Lady? A Mockingjay Part 2 FAQ.
If you’re a Hunger Games superfan, you probably reread Suzanne Collins’ books and anticipated every scene in the final movie, Mockingjay Part 2. If you’re not a Hunger Games superfan, you might have been confused by a few plot points in the recent film, even if you’ve watched the other Hunger Games movies. What was that black, oily stuff? How did that guy get caught in that net? What were those zombie-like creatures that attacked Katniss’ squad in the tunnels?
To help you out, we’ve answered a few frequently asked questions about Mockingjay Part 2. (Needless to say, this post contains spoilers for the book and movie.)
The Five-Ingredient, 20-Minute Holiday Dessert That Your Guests Will Go Crazy For
This post originally appeared on Food52.
This holiday back-pocket dessert goes out to all you non-bakers, and anyone who’s feeling a bit tuckered from the more elaborate, delayed-gratification baking projects of the holiday season. There is no delaying of gratification here.
With five ingredients and about 20 minutes, you’ll have a pure, joyful dessert that looks festive as all get out, which you will have casually winged together as others clear the table or between rounds of after-dinner charades. Your guests will descend upon it, hungry for a respite from pie and cake and all the holiday heft.
The recipe is Baked Caramel Pears from Lindsey Shere—pastry chef at Chez Panisse for 27 years and the author of Chez Panisse Desserts—and has a long, but long-dormant pedigree: Florence Fabricant wrote about it in the New York Times in 1993, Marion Cunningham in the San Francisco Chronicle in 1998. Almost two decades later, it’s time we resurrect it.
You’re Doing It Wrong: Stuffing
For a holiday that ostensibly brings Americans together, Thanksgiving has a knack for highlighting regional fault lines and exposing local prejudices. Consider stuffing, the holiday’s quintessential side dish. The very word invites conflict, since many Southerners call it “dressing,” whether it’s stuffed into a turkey or baked separately from the bird. But the vital controversy arises over substance: Depending on where you’re from and who your ancestors were, you might make it out of white bread, out of rice or other grains—even out of chestnuts.
The Newly Unearthed Faulkner Play Suggests That Faulkner Maybe Actually Hated Women
Welcome to the year of Lazarus literature, in which long-lost works keep rising to walk the earth. Now Andrew Gulli, the same Strand editor who in August claimed to have discovered the unknown Fitzgerald short story “Temperature,” has allegedly found a never-before-published Faulkner play in the University of Virginia’s archives. Setting aside Gulli’s suspicious luck (for one, he tends to resurrect texts by writers, like Mark Twain and John Steinbeck, in whom there’s an enduring interest; where’s the exhumed John Dos Passos manuscript, Andrew?!), the one-act comedy does seem to show Faulkner in lighter spirits. The play’s called ‘Twixt Cup and Lip. In it, two men bet on whether a beautiful and airheaded young woman will marry one of them after an hour. Faulkner is known for densely wrought modernist brocades like The Sound and the Fury, lyrical tragedies about a shadowed Southern past. This script is something different: namely, one of the most flippantly nasty pieces of literature I have ever read.