Word: rind
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Dates: during 1970-1979
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...apartment to sustain her exotic $75 dracaena house plant. For Business Writer Jack Kramer, a former London resident, economizing on energy is old news. "The English advise one to gravitate toward rooms full of warm bodies and drink lots of warming spirits, two energy-conserving principles that rind their ultimate expression in a communal effort called a licensed public house." Says Kramer: "I can especially recommend this tactic...
...character." For Brando's death scene, the script called for him to cavort with his grandson in a garden, then topple over from a stroke. Brando suggested adding a little game that he played with his own children: he cut a set of jagged fangs from an orange rind and inserted them in his mouth. The result not only drew a spontaneous on-screen reaction from the child playing the grandson, but also captured in a tiny image the essence of the Godfather characterization-a monster, but seemingly benign...
...sits down to consume one of the Lucullan meals he regularly cadges. Wambaugh's feeling for food is almost erotic. Thus as Bumper takes dessert in an Arab restaurant: "I scooped up a mouthful and let it lay there on my tongue, tasting the sweet apricot and lemon rind, and remembering how Yasser's wife, Yasmine, blended the apricot and lemon rind and sugar, and folded the apricot puree into the whipped cream before it was chilled...
Just One More. Two days later, when I pulled Anglin' Sam out of bed at 5 a.m., he remarked that I had a funny glazed look. "Bass on the brain," he called it. The odd smell in the air-a combination of pork rind, outboard motor oil, anise and fish scales-he called "essence of largemouth." That afternoon, while twitching purple-plastic worms off the bottom, I had a strike that seemed to turn the boat around. When I set the hook, it felt like there was an anvil on the other end. Diving and circling the boat...
...drapes into the dehydrated eyes of snockered politicos, lobbyists in underpants, Pentagon sources and the secret police, when the hands that guide our collective destiny reach to kill the screams of the alarm clock and grope for the girl (already fled), at that hour Habbakuk is pushing aside the rind of his grapefruit, sipping the dregs of his coffee, and rereading the telegram that sends him flying to New York by cocktail time, where he must perforce plug in his connections, drop his names, jiggle through a dance or two till he's in a position to float Valerie...