“Some birds are not meant to be caged, that’s all. Their feathers are too bright, their songs too sweet and wild. So you let them go, or when you open the cage to feed them they somehow fly out past you. And the part of you that knows it was wrong to imprison them in the first place rejoices, but still, the place where you live is that much more drab and empty for their departure.â€
― Stephen King, Rita Hayworth and Shawshank Redemption: A Story from Different Seasons
He’s been a Hunk of the Day before, and more importantly he’s released not just one but two entertaining tomes (‘Most Talkative‘ and ‘The Andy Cohen Diaries.’) Recently, he was in Miami on his tour with Anderson Cooper, where he hit the beach with his toned and tanned beach body (all the working out that took place in his Diaries has definitely paid off). This is Andy Cohen, who’s being honored as Hunk of the Day one more time because, well, he is.
It begins, as most majestic things do, with the tiniest seed of an idea. Sometimes it’s a feeling, sometimes it’s an injustice, and sometimes it’s something you have to do or you know you’ll die inside. In the beginning, then, is the quietest rumbling, like a distant train in the middle of the night. You sense it before you really know what it is.
Fortunately, I’m a little beyond that early stage of a new project. At this point, that train is loud and insistent and about to arrive, and nothing is going to stop it. There’s exhilaration in that, but exhaustion and weariness too. Above all else, though, it is a labor of love, and I can’t wait for this train to really take off.
For now, there’s the merest whisper of turning wheels, the faintest light from afar, and the lightest wisp of smoke from an engine that can simply be sensed, within a vehicle that can barely be felt, on a voyage whose outcome can only be surmised.
It’s amazing what such a little piece of pasta can accomplish, and how it can fill such a large bowl when used en masse and plumped with water and warmth and a bit of EVOO love. Though the close-up on this cup of pasta misleadingly magnifies the size of the tiny noodles, trust me that in their dry form they are small and insignificant. Only in their quantity do they amount to much. I like the lesson of life inherent in that metaphor. One small part, no matter how small, can make a difference when it’s not alone.
This pasta plays a part in another delicious recipe from Lidia Bastianich – a classic Italian dish, Pasta e Fagioli Veloce – which relies on a cannellini bean base for thickness, into which the ditalini goes to retain all of its starchy goodness. Hand-crushed tomatoes and freshly chopped parsley add pizzazz to the hearty dish – perfect for those cold nights and showery April days. A bit of grated cheese over the final product, and a rustic baguette for dipping, make it a meal unto itself, or the ample beginning of an evening of delicious sustenance.
Pasta e Fagioli Veloce
Method:
In a blender, purée 2 cans of the beans with 1 cup water. Set aside. In a large soup pot, heat the olive oil over medium heat. Add the garlic. Once the garlic is sizzling, sprinkle in the flour. Let the flour toast for a minute but not color; then add 3 quarts of water, the rosemary, salt, and red pepper flakes. Bring to a boil, add the tomatoes, 1 cup slosh water from the tomato can, and the bean purée. Simmer until the soup thickens and is creamy and flavorful, about 30 minutes. Add the ditalini and the final can of beans (not puréed), and simmer until the pasta is al dente. Stir in the parsley and serve.
You know what that means: smoke ’em if you’ve got ’em! While I’ve never been a big pot smoker -or a pot-smoker period, I have been known to take a toke on the rare occasion it rears its head. (Mostly this happened in my early twenties, when a lunch break from John Hancock and a circle of towering rhododendrons in the Southwest Corridor Park invited such shenanigans… but I digress.) Onto a much less hazy week in review, where the only smoke was that created by the hotness of a few choice Hunks, and the burning fire of creative inspiration.
First, a glimpse of Mr. Eastwood.
Second, a citrus-based cocktail, to tease the sun out of its hiding spot.
Third, a citrus-tinged chicken recipe that seems to fill the stomach with sunshine.
Fourth, the incandescent maker of a pair of golden shoes that fly on sunlight itself ~ the jocular Jeremy Scott.
Fifth, a coat of sunshine in the midst of Chinatown.
Sixth, a group of nude men.
Seventh, a collection of quotes from a favorite book.
Eighth, a visit to my hometown ~ Amsterdam, New York.
Outside of upstate New York circles, I have to clarify when I claim to be from Amsterdam. Apparently my little hometown is not on the international map, while some sex-and-pot-riddled place in the Netherlands has made a name for itself under the same moniker. Visiting the real-deal has always been a dream of mine, but until that day arrives I’ll have to do with the city that stood home for a single windmill (until it burned down a while ago.)
On a recent weekend, I traveled back to Amsterdam, NY to work on a new project. My brother’s been renting out a space in the Clock Tower, once the center of the busy carpet mills that put the place on the map. Those mills closed, leaving a shell of an industry in their wake. Now, it seems the city is trying to revitalize the spot with some trendy industrial loft-style spaces. Sky-high ceilings and enormous windows make for the perfect backdrop for an artsy-fartsy photo shoot.
It’s for a top-secret project which I’ve been working on rather loosely for the past few months, and it kicks into high gear now that spring has reinvigorated my drive. Let’s just say it’s a final lesson in delusional grandeur.
To that end, I’ll be busy with photo shoots and writing and editing and compiling, so this site will be on auto-pilot. (Not that anyone will notice, as I’ll program posts as I’ve always done, and there won’t be a blip in the Hunk of the Day parade.)
Behind the scenes, however, this bee will be busy flitting from inspirational flower to inspirational flower, as I work to create the final piece of a puzzle that’s been in the making for twenty years.
The year, after all, is 2015. A lot of shit went down twenty years ago.
Karma Chameleon, baby… and remember: karma is a bitch.
“Nothing he did or said was unpremeditated. He saw through everybody, but he saw through them precisely because the first thing he looked for in people was the very thing he had seen in himself and may not have wished others to see.” ~ Andre Aciman, ‘Call Me By Your Name’
How could anyone intuit the manner of someone’s thinking unless he himself was already familiar with this same mode of thinking? How could he perceive so many devious turns in others unless he had practiced them himself?
What struck me was not just his amazing gift for reading people, for rummaging inside them and digging out the precise configuration of their personality, but his ability to intuit things in exactly the way I myself might have intuited them. This, in the end, was what drew me to him with a compulsion that overrode desire or friendship or the allurements of a common religion.
~ Andre Aciman, ‘Call Me By Your Name’
Did his heart jolt when he saw me walk into a room?
I doubted it.
Did he ignore me the way I ignored him that morning: on purpose, to draw me out, to protect himself, to show I was nothing to him? Or was he oblivious, the way sometimes the most perceptive individuals fail to pick up the most obvious cues because they’re simply not paying attention, not tempted, not interested?
~ Andre Aciman, ‘Call Me By Your Name’
I’d never traveled in this world. But I loved this world. And I would love it even more once I learned how to speak its language – for it was my language, a form of address where our deepest longings are smuggled in banter, not because it is safer to put a smile on what we fear may shock, but because the inflections of desire, of all desire in this new world I’d stepped into, could only be conveyed in play.
~ Andre Aciman, ‘Call Me By Your Name’
Not so much a group scene as in an orgy, but group scene as in a collection of Hunks that collectively form a group. (Or group scene as in orgy if that’s what you insist upon.) This Saturday post is one of those sexy, lazy compilations that may refresh your memory, or introduce you anew, to a few Hunk of the Day features you may have missed. The Archives are a labyrinth of male nudity and naked male celebrities, but few seldom trove the treasure trails without getting lost in masturbatory delight. Let’s focus, at least as pronounced by Jean Claude Van Damme.
We should begin with the magically-delicious butts of ‘Magic Mike’ in this brief post of posteriors.
While we’re on the subject of nude male butts, here’s the one that belongs to Jake Gyllenhaal. Any day that Jakey gets nakey is a good one.
The final ass-cheek peek for this opening is the sexy back of Justin Timberlake. But enough about the naked JT Superstar for now…
The gentlemen of McFly got nude in the above photo from an Attitude shoot, but it’s always been about the third guy in from the left, Harry Judd. Mr. Judd has supplied ample assets for this website, and other far less classy joints (thank God). I’m partial to the partial male nudity of this post, the spreading of his legs in this one, and the gratuitous semi-dry-but-naked humping in this one.
More magic from ‘Mike’ – because it was the movie that just kept on giving. A nude Channing Tatum or a shirtless Joe Manganiello? Ok, fine – a nude Joe Manganiello too. [Sigh]… and Matt Bomer’s banging backside.
Speaking of nude men, here’s Rob Gronkowski naked.
One of the OG male supermodels, Tyson Beckford, proves he still has the stuff to fill out the sexy underwear.
One of the sweetest male supermodels, Ronnie Kroell, made his first appearance here in this post. More impressively, he made his latest appearance here, wherein he was crowned as Hunk of the Day for the third time (our first-ever three-time honoree).
Finally, now that you’ve been bombarded with links to see you through this otherwise-lightweight Saturday, a few collections within this group collection. In a few of these posts you’ll find the random male nudity of anonymous strangers, in others you might find the recognizable tushes of guys like Sandor Earl, Alex Minsky, Colby Keller, Greg Rutherford, Ashton Kutcher and even a couple of Olympians.
Across the street from where I slurped a bowl of pho, I watched this gentleman step outside for a smoke. I was struck by his apron of bright yellow, and while it was more than likely a piece of utilitarian garb, for me it was the perfect spot of spring color. Like some striking canary in a sea of gray-backed robins, he shone like the sun, resplendent in a world of uninspired surroundings.
The wind blew his smoke down the street, and soon his quick break was over. Hunched over a bit, he shuffled back inside, while others hurried by ignoring his colorful outfit. My eyes followed until the door closed behind him.
Flying high on his winged sneakers for Adidas, Jeremy Scott has made the comfortable footwear my next object of obsession. Far more than that, however, he’s reminded me of my love for outrageous and courageous fashion, for the colorful and brash and loud, the kind of attire that elicits stares and whispers and occasional cat-calls for its fabulousness. While I’m still on the hunt (and the damn wait-list) for these elusive Wings 3 Gold sneakers, I’m captivated by Scott’s other designs, as well as his impressive career roster of accomplishments.
He’s worked as the Creative Director for Moschino, and designed Katy Perry’s costumes for her recent SuperBowl Halftime show. In addition to all of that, Scott has produced a couple of fragrances as well, one of which comes in a winged bottle. A man who loves wings to such a degree is a man after my own heart. Oh, and then there’s the matter of that hair. Love, love, loving that hair. Sometimes blonde curls are as entrancing as wings.
I’m especially enamored of the way he’s bringing back a nostalgic early 80’s vibe to the scene – bold colors, strong patterns, and a lively jolt of fun. Fashion isn’t all highbrow elegance and minimalist simplicity. It’s leather, leopard, and all things luscious.
My obsession with Lidia Bastianich of the Create channel rages on with this delicious recipe (which can be found on her website here). It’s a substantial chicken breast variation that manages to keep the meat moist and flavorful thanks to its preparation method. The combination of orange and olives works an unexpected magic, lending a flavor-packed punch to the proceedings. There is an olive oil/butter combo at the start that you could probably forego if you want to keep things lean, but you’d be doing yourself a disservice if you go that route. Keep the whole thing intact to get the exquisite full-effect of the recipe – that bit of butter isn’t going to matter in the grand scheme of things.
As Lidia mentions, a chicken breast recipe is the bane and boon of many a family chef, and finding new but simple ways of turning that lackluster piece of meat into something extraordinary is always welcome.
Chicken Breast with Orange and Gaeta Olives
Pollo con Olive ed Aranci
In a large skillet over medium heat, add the olive oil and butter. Season the chicken with 1/2 teaspoon of salt and lightly dredge it in flour. Lightly brown the chicken in the skillet (you want the chicken to end up with a blonde-colored crust and slowly build the color, and flavor, up) on both sides, about 2 minutes per side. Cook the chicken in batches, if necessary, depending on the size of your skillet. Remove to a plate as it is colored.
Once the chicken is colored, add the onion and cook until softened, about 3 to 4 minutes. Add the olives, orange juice and zest, white wine and fennel powder. Add chicken back to the skillet and simmer until the chicken is just cooked through and the sauce coats the chicken, about 3 to 4 minutes. Season with remaining salt, sprinkle with the parsley, and serve.
From ‘Lidia’s Commonsense Italian Cooking‘
The only thing I did slightly differently was pounding out the breasts a bit before cooking. There’s nothing worse than a breast that’s too thick and requires extra cooking time. Such a set-up leads to the possibility of drying out the meat in order to ensure a safe cook-through. Pounding out any extra-thick pieces alleviates this risk, while tenderizing the meat in the process. It need not be super-thin, just slightly, and it will turn out fine.
To counter-balance the strong flavors of the entree, I served this with a side of couscous and fresh parsley.
Last year, Zac Efron ripped his shirt off and revealed his banging torso on the MTV Movie Awards. How do you top that gratuitous glimse of skin? You grab Dave Franco’s package, literally, and hang on for dear life. Sound unbelievable? Scroll down and see the epic GIFs. (There’s some nipple tweaking too, of Mr. Efron’s nubs.) First, a look back at last year’s skin-baring incident.
This isn’t the first time that Zac Efron has had fun with another guy – and that one was a Bear. (And don’t forget when this Zac Efron nude photo hit the internet.)
The weather of April is so variable that it’s risky to put up any ‘warm and sunny’ post in advance of it actually happening. Oh well, no risk, no glory, so on with the story. As our Northeastern spring struggles to catch up with the rest of the world, April is wild and unpredictable, not unlike the last week on this blog.
The most pressing matter of the moment is the question of how I’m going to procure a pair of these sneakers. Ideas and donations are equally welcome.
I’m hoping to return to the brilliance of Boston very soon, preferaby with skies like these. And flowers like these.
Madonna performed a scorching rendition of ‘Bitch, I’m Madonna’ on Jimmy Fallon’s Tonight Show, but I was much more enchanted by her ‘Ghosttown’ song and video.
Along those lines, Terrence Howard made his debut as Hunk of the Day thanks in part to his co-starring role in the above-referenced Madonna video.
Slowly but surely, it’s on the way.
In the question of who’s hotter in their underwear, Justin Bieber is hardly giving David Beckham a run for his budgie-smuggling money.
When Kira’s around, things get saucy and Saulty.
No matter what nastiness was going on outside, the Hunks of the Day kept things nice and toasty. This week’s honorees included Chris Nogiec, Filip Sjunnesson, Jussie Smollett, Ming Tsai, and, one of my favorites in a long time, Luke Watson.
This is a little late, but when Adam Lambert is involved, any time is a good time. Here are a few photos that shook the internet a while back, featuring Mr. Lambert in all his gym-sculpted pumptitude. While he’s fluctuated in weight over the years, he’s always been incredibly hot and cute, but this just goes above and beyond that. The Glamberts had a well-deserved field-day over these shots – all of which are drool-worthy. He’s been honored by sexy tributes before, as in this Hunk of the Day crowning, and this follow-up Hunk of the Day redux – dare we hope for a third go at it? Take your shirt off, Adam – and you’ll be golden. Hell, you already are.
This past winter all but ruined my sense of style, as well as the reputation for sartorial splendor I’ve spent a lifetime cultivating. Yet there comes a point during the 29th snowstorm of the season, particularly when it’s coming down in spring, when you have to throw your hands in the air and simply cry mercy. I did that the last time I was in Boston and we were hit with a Saturday of driving snow. I put on a pair of L.L. Bean rubberized boots, a vintage garish parka purchased in emergency fashion from Sault, and made Kira pose in all the madness we could muster. This is how you get through the last few snowfalls. You go crazy.
