Taste: My Life through Food(47)

In fact, it is not rare for me to sport a portable Martini kit on a film set, which I put to good use at the end of a day of filming when I have settled back into the makeup chair and the “mask” is removed, as we actors pompously say. (Well, not me, but probably someone like Ryan Reynolds would say that.)I I have used this kit or others like it for many years and it gives me great pleasure to mix a Martini for anyone who craves one at wrap as I do.

During the filming of Captain America, the director, Joe Johnston, became so used to them that even if I’d wrapped a bit early, his assistant would knock on the door and ask if I could wait around just a bit longer to make Joe his evening elixir. (I was more than happy to oblige, within reason of course, as he was such a great fellow.) On the same film, Chris Evans, Hayley Atwell, and I bonded over Trailer-tinis and we have remained close friends ever since. The wonderful director Barry Sonnenfeld and I always drank a Martini together during our two collaborations on the last shot of every day of filming. For those lucky enough not to be in “the biz,” the last shot of the day is known as “the Martini” and we were simply making sure it lived up to its name. (Speaking of names, I’ll pick up all those I’ve just dropped a little later.)

Over a decade ago, I was lucky enough to work with the brilliant makeup artist Peter King on The Lovely Bones. Together we came up with the look of the horrid person I was playing, a rapist/serial killer named Mr. Harvey. The director, Peter Jackson; Peter King; and I felt it was vital that the character be as unremarkable looking as possible within the setting of 1970s American suburbia. We achieved this with a wig, false teeth, a fake mustache, blue contact lenses, and a lightening of my skin tone. (Why they didn’t hire someone else is still a mystery to me.) With the addition of a false paunch, drab attire, and aviator glasses, I was practically unrecognizable and was glad of it as I found the role to be more emotionally and psychologically taxing than any I had ever played. For this reason I could not wait to “shed” Mr. Harvey at the end of every day.

Removing that benign face of evil was freeing indeed, and I must admit, never was a post-wrap Martini more needed. I’d stir up a couple for Peter and myself (luckily he shared my affinity for them and then some), and into the stemmed glass would slip all of the anxiety and emotional discomfort I had felt during that day’s filming. Those happy few who have ever experienced a well-made straight-up, dry Martini will know that after the first sip, one is instantly soothed and the world is set right. Of course, any drink at the end of a working day takes the edge off, but a well-made Martini eases and polishes that edge like no other drink I know. And after the second one, that edge is practically beveled.

In short, whether it is made with gin or with vodka, a Martini is the quintessence of elegance that we all aspire to and believe we acquire when we drink one. However, just as they can elevate a body, they can also be the source of a soul’s downfall.

As Dorothy Parker purportedly once said, “I like a Martini, Two at the very most. After three, I’m under the table, / After four, I’m under my host.”


I?Ryan Reynolds is a very dear friend and would never say such words. But Colin Firth probably would.





15


I met my wife, Felicity Blunt, at her sister’s wedding a little over a year after Kate had died. The wedding took place in Lake Como at a gorgeous home owned by a friend of the affianced couple whose name rhymes with George Clooney. I had taken the train there from Florence, as I was staying in Tuscany with my parents, my three children, my stepdaughter, and my father-in-law. This was a trip that Kate and I had always wanted to make with all of the above, but due to her lengthy illness we were never able to, so I had decided to make it in her honor.

The wedding was a three-day affair, and for me, as I had barely been away from my family for some time before Kate’s death, it was a welcome and, I discovered, much-needed respite. I saw some dear friends and met a few new ones, including the aforementioned sister of my friend whom I would end up marrying a few years later. Felicity and I chatted over those few days quite a bit, meaning she practically stalked me. (There is CCTV footage.) Most of our discussion centered around food. Conveniently, in about two weeks’ time I was to begin filming Captain America in London, where she lived, and we decided we would meet up for dinner. Thus began a romance that was… food-centric.

During those few weeks in London we ate at many a great restaurant, the first being the recently closed Ledbury, run by two-Michelin-starred chef Brett Graham and above which Felicity conveniently lived.

Now, I am not one who is necessarily drawn to the Michelin star. Often I find that many of the restaurants that have earned this coveted award are a bit fussy, to say the least, and I’ve left a few of them completely famished, as I have never found pretentiousness very filling. However, this was not the case with the Ledbury.

The small dining room was elegant and the tables quite far apart from one another, and at times it seemed there were more staff than patrons even when it was full. There was a warmth that both the room and the people exuded that put one instantly at ease. I chalk this up to Brett’s personality, for as they say, “The fish stinks from the head down,” but in this case it was a good stink. Although the food at the Ledbury was rarefied, Brett himself is not. He is very genial and relaxed for someone who works with such intensity and has maintained a standard of excellence for a very long time. (The Ledbury was voted one of the fifty best restaurants in the world for many years running.)