Word: salads
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Dates: during 1970-1979
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Nashville doesn't have any "real stuff," and as a result some critics had trouble talking about it. One might call them the cookbook critics--their theory is that the secret's in the ingredients. Just as the studios make movies like salad, adding a sprinkle of "love interest," a dash of "violence," a pinch of "fun," so the critics think of "plot" or "action" or "climax" as separate components to be inserted in a movie at will. "Bad language," for example, is a poor allocation, no matter how it's used...
...much of it. What little there might have been disappeared quickly. Very few of the ex-G.I.'s wore any parts of their old uniforms or gave any overt signs of expecting or getting any preferential treatment or respect. One fellow went around with a chestful of fruit salad, as we used to call decorations, and he wore his uniform for about a year. He is now an avowed homosexual and I suspect he was going through a fierce identity crisis. Uncertain of his masculinity, he was compelled to display it on his chest. Frank Cabot used...
...wife Louise, 44, and eight other friends and relatives. After a champagne apéritif 'in the small yellow living room, the guests sat down to a dinner of potage de cresson, bass en mousseline, côte de boeuf with jardinière de légumes, salad, and cheese (including a Cantal and a Gouzon from Auvergne, Giscard's home region). It was topped off by charlotte aux /raises for dessert and three wines-vin d'Arbois, St. Emilion and Sauternes...
...President Gerald Ford, a handful of aides and his four guests: Historian Daniel Boorstin, Harvard Government Professor James Q. Wilson, Woodrow Wilson Fellow Martin Diamond and Chicago Lawyer John Robson. The group moved to a first floor dining room for a meal of roast beef, mixed vegetables and fruit salad. The scene was more reminiscent of the White House of Thomas Jefferson, who had company at his dinner table nearly every night for leisurely conversation, than that of Richard Nixon, who guarded his privacy and preferred to hear from outsiders by memo...
Last week four weary, bleary men sat at Art's Deli, resting from their rewrites of Rhoda. James Brooks turned to his fellow writer-producers, Allan Burns, David Davis and Lorenzo Mu sic. "Why open with the fruit salad?" he asked, blue-penciling the menu. "Let's get to the zinger - we move the pastrami up, segue to the coleslaw, go for the laugh with the knockwurst...