I began my evening with the horsey crowd at the Byrd Theater, at a benefit for the Equine Rescue League. Honestly, I didn't know there was a problem of horses being abused and neglected, but I guess I'm not surprised. It was a showing of "National Velvet," the 1945 movies about a 12-year old girl winning England's Grand National. I knew a very young Elizabeth Taylor was in it, as was Mickey Rooney, and I knew it had to do with horses, so I usually caught the pop cultural references to the film, but that's not the same as actually seeing it.
It was lush with the typical Technicolor over-saturation of colors, some of the sets were so obviously painted on as to be embarrassing and you knew from the beginning that she'd win, but it was rated #9 of the ten best sports movies ever made, right before "Jerry McGuire," a movie I have seen. Number one was "Raging Bull," a movie I have not seen. The list is endless.
After I did my part to save the horses, I went to the Belvidere at Broad for a bowl of soup. Tonight's soup was pumpkin, which didn't particularly grab me at first, but I ordered it anyway. Forgive my lack of vocabulary here; this was a bowl of pumpkin mixed with cream and then there was some cognac in there. To me, it tasted like homemade pumpkin ice cream, minus the sugar. It was so creamy, so pumpkin-y and such a perfect blend of savory/sweet as to be difficult to choose to label it only one or the other. For me, it satisfied both my appetizer and dessert needs, no easy feat (a good cheese plate can do the same for me).
Of course I ran into various neighbors, and discovered that many of them have been mopping up water the past few days (hooray for second floor apartments), but I also got to check out Todd Hale's new show hanging on the walls; this is an artist with a bent for the unusual. The music was vintage rock (not my choice, needless to say) but eminently pleasing to many of those around me. You can't always get what you want...you know?