On August 30 of 1993, writer Susan Orlean (of Adaptation and other fames) wrote a brief essay (what was once called a casual) imagining that Tina Turner lived in her two-bedroom apartment. I’d like to mention here that the writer is always screwed in Hollywood. The writer is a highway dog. Always. And of course Sony and Spike Jonze told Susan she would have a part in the movie based on, you know, an essay she wrote, but then this happened:
“…i had a cameo in the movie, but it didn’t make it into the final cut (dammit!) and my husband had a cameo, playing the editor of the new yorker, but that got cut, too. i was actually supposed to first have a part as the waitress who charlie flirts with in the diner (the girl they ended up casting actually has red hair and bears a vague resemblance to me, but much cuter) and then i was supposed to be a person walking my dog down the street past charlie (the dog wrangler showed up with a little fluffy white dog, which disturbed me, since i am not a fluffy little white dog sort of person) and then i was actually filmed in a scene as a person in a store shopping with a friend laughing (she and i are chatting and laughing) as charlie walks by, and he’s paranoid that we’re laughing at him. i think i was very, very good.”
Because they always screw the writer. The writer is lower than a toe.
Anyway in 1993 Orlean wrote, Does Tina Turner cook? I’ll bet that she doesn’t cook a lot but that she’s mastered one fancy party dish–something that’s actually not hard to make but looks complicated, like smoked bluefish pâté or nachos. It’s become her signature dish: whenever she goes to potlucks, people see her coming up the driveway and instead of saying, “Hey, here comes Tina” they say “Hey here comes that smoked bluefish pâté” or “Here come the nachos.”
Here come the nachos!