I am no longer cute. If I’m sucking in my stomach and you squint from about 20 feet away, I don’t look so bad, but I am no longer cute. Now I’m “oh, she’s a nice lady–she always has something nice to say to somebody.”
I wouldn’t care except that I am trying to push and shove a television show, so I have to think about things like, am I cute. Which brings me to make-up. I have made a point of not looking in a mirror for about twenty years now–some people give up meat; I gave up looking at myself–and all of a sudden not only do I have to look in the mirror (it’s the only way to put on make-up) but I have to try to improve what’s in the mirror (what else is make-up for?) in order to get me back to at least closer to cute.
I am not a big believer in trying to make something different from what is, but why can’t I think of my face like a piece of pork–a little lipstick and mascara is no different than a big head of garlic and a sprig of rosemary.
The possibility looms of forgetting about the lipstick all together and going to meetings with twigs of rosemary woven into no-hope-hair. (“She smells good–a little bit like pork.”)
I just want you to know that I have big talent in the pork department. A sorry slab of spare ribs last night was transformed into juicy bits of succulence that made the whole class smile. No mirrors necessary.
Start with a hot and heavy pan. Add a splash of olive oil and then add the rack of ribs, (about 3 pounds) salted on both sides, and flattest side down. Don’t touch. Let it sit over a medium flame until it is the color of somebody’s grandmother’s chestnut highboy. Pour the fat from the pan, and give it another spill of olive oil. Add one whole head of garlic, whacked in half horizontally. Let the garlic go a gorgeous golden. Add a few sprigs of rosemary and about 2 cups of savignon blanc. Simmer the wine for about 3 minutes, and pour over the ribs.  Cover tightly with aluminum foil and then make about 5 slashes in the foil with a knife.  Braise the ribs in the oven at 350 degrees, checking that the liquid is always at about a 1/4 inch (add more wine or water if necessary) and to flip, every half hour.

They are done in about 2 1/2.   It was served up with pugliese croutons toasted and seasoned with garlic and salt (and sauteed leeks and mushrooms.) They didn’t care what I looked like. That’s what I’m talking about.