If I promise you I didn’t actually watch Runaway Bride, will you believe me, even though my Netflix page will say I did? I’m not making excuses. Sometimes I just need a middling, mindless Hollywood effort playing in the background to help me get to sleep. And last week I could find no better candidate on Netflix than the Julia Roberts-Richard Gere movie marked by such a notable lack of charm and effort, they might as well have just called it Grossly Unpalatable Woman. (Try setting that to music, Orbison!)
Have you ever had a friend (maybe in high school?) you knew you couldn’t trust, but for some reason you kept telling them all your most guarded secrets anyway? That’s like the relationship I have with Netflix. There are certain things I allow myself to do only when I’m positive no one else is around. I thank the Academy for awarding me this year’s Wella Balsam bottle for Best Actor. I tie a scarf around my face and try to cook soup to see how I’ll do if I ever go blind. I meow in varying pitches to discover a path for connecting more profoundly with the cat. I don’t advertise these things because they’re not part of my true day-to-day nature. I’m just trying something a little different. But when it comes to my movies, Netflix doesn’t see it that way. Every misstep and innocent diversion I take goes down in my “Permanent Internet Streaming Record.” All Michael Granberry has to do is turn on the television, and I know what’s coming. I just close my eyes and wait for it… “You watched Dr. Giggles??”
It really isn’t fair that Netflix gives me so many options, then expects me to maintain a reputable level of viewing standards. Of course I’d love to watch Out of Africa. It’s stunning and thoughtful, it has educational value. But so does It’s a Spelling Bee, Charlie Brown!, and it’s only one-fourth the length. I never claimed to be Pauline Kael!
Thanks to Netflix, I’ve discovered that I’m not only fond of 007 and Alfred Hitchcock, I also apparently enjoy “Critically-Acclaimed Sentimental Romances,” “Feel-Good Disney Talking-Animal Animation,” and “Dark Movies Featuring a Strong Female Lead.” I like that Netflix has sidled up and gotten to know my interests. I can always use another friend. I just wish it would learn to keep its big mouth shut.
Dr. Giggles is pretty good.
Señor Granberry’s Bison Tacos (makes 6)
- 1/2 pound ground bison meat
- 1 tsp crushed red pepper
- 1 tsp cayenne pepper
- pinch of salt
- handful of fresh cilantro, chopped roughly
- 1 avocado, sliced
- 4-6 ounces jalapeño jack cheese, sliced
- medium yellow corn tortillas
- 2-3 Tbsp olive oil
Break apart the ground bison and cook with the salt, crushed red pepper and cayenne pepper until there is no pink. (About 10-15 minutes or just until cooked all the way through), stirring and breaking it apart further as you go. Drain and set aside.
Heat the olive oil in a skillet and drop in the tortillas. They should begin to sizzle as soon as you drop them in. If not, take them out and continue to heat up the oil.
Once in, allow the tortillas to cook for about sixty seconds, then flip them over (you don’t want them to get crispy or they won’t fold well). Once you’ve turned over the tortillas, top them with your fillings – cheese first, and then bison. Make sure you don’t overdo the bison – you still have to flip them over. Michael says about 2 tablespoons per taco. Place the avocado and cilantro on top the bison. When everything is on the tortilla, immediately fold them by sliding them up against the side of the pan and let them sit there for about 60-90 seconds. Then using a spoon and a spatula, gently turn the taco over so the other side cooks against the side of the pan. Cook another 60-90 seconds. Then remove from the pan.
Allow to set for a few minutes so that everything continues to melt together and the tacos slightly cool.
As you add new tortillas to the pan, remember to add additional olive oil in first. The pan will already be hot, so the oil will heat up quickly.