Let’s get something established off the bat: I consider myself a fairly liberal person – few things offend me. Few things make me blush. And I rarely see something and wonder how that ended up in a magazine or on television or wherever. I believe in an open and honest relationship with kids and don’t shy away from difficult topics. But I also don’t invite uber-sexuality into my home either. I don’t subscribe to magazines that are inappropriate for my children to flip through and I don’t frequent late night pay per view (in fact, I never order pay per view anything – waste of money IMHO).

One of the magazines that arrives weekly in my little black mailbox is New York Magazine. My husband and I both read it. I typically check out the restaurant reviews and “In Season” column first, and then flip through the interesting articles. I have clippings of “In Season,” in a file in my office. I’ve learned about so many interesting foods from there that I wouldn’t have known about otherwise.

So, after several years of subscribing, I have a reasonable expectation that the magazine won’t run anything that my young children shouldn’t see. I expect to be able to read a reasonably interesting food section.

Enter the now infamous Lindsey Lohan cover shoot that was modeled after Marilyn Monroe’s last cover shoot.

The magazine arrived not covered in plastic. Aside from a notation that she was nude, there was no warning that this might not be appropriate for all readers . . . It was just there. I assumed the shoot would be tasteful — nude, but not naked. To me, nude is the Demi Moore Vanity Fair cover – everything exposed, but covered. Naked is what you find in Playboy. And while the Playboy photos are tasteful, they are not appropriate for, say, a two year old.  That’s why I subscribe to New York Magazine and not Playboy.

It would be an understatement to say I was shocked when I saw the Lindsey Lohan photos – her breasts are bared and little else is left to the imagination. And it goes on for pages. This isn’t an instructional on breast self-exams. Nor is it a spread in an adult magazine. These are gratuitous naked shots in an otherwise general interest magazine.

Before I get railed on with cries of this being artistic – that may have worked for Hugh Hefner for decades, but it doesn’t work here. My kids should be able to see me flip through this magazine without hiding pages . . . And before I hear about being comfortable with the female body, I agree that the body is a beautiful thing, not something shameful. But I am hardpressed to find an excuse that makes this anything more than soft porn.

You want artistic license? Artistic license is Sean Combs being about to speak the actual words on television from the play-turned-TV movie, A Raisin in the Sun. Those words include the N-word – you all know the one – but that is part of the play. It is an insight into a time gone. This LL shoot isn’t.

So, while people go ballistic about Jane Fonda actually saying the so-called C-word on the Today Show, which is part of the name of a segment of The Vagina Monologues that she’s appearing in and while the cast of A Raisin in the Sun had to fight tooth and nail to keep one of the N-word instances to remain at a critic point in the play,  people should take a step back and think a little about this.

Artistic integrity and artistic license is something reserved for true art works – the original Marilyn Monroe shoot, plays, proper names – not an imitation of the original.

Bringing this back around, I am not offended by the offensive words on shows and in plays as mentioned above – they are in context and should my kids be watching with me, they are something that can be a conversation starter for what’s appropriate and what’s not. But risque photos from a less-than-admirable starlet are nothing more than an attention-grabbing, mouth gaping editorial risk. New York Magazine pushed the envelope with this one . . . and they pushed it too far.

What do you think about Lindsey, Jane and Sean? What’s offensive and what isn’t?

Photos from NYMag.com

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I mentioned it earlier this week, but I really need to tell you about the horrid tilapia I whipped up last week. Like totally yuck. *Splat!*

The whole concept began with the best of intentions. It really sounded like a brilliant idea. I would juice one and a half blood oranges and make a light and tasty marinade to go with the tilapia I had defrosted. Then, I would garnish the dish with bits of the other half of the second blood orange. How could I go wrong? It was just a simple sauce after all.

It. Was. Awful.

It looked like the dish I had planned. But the taste? Eh, not so much.The blood oranges had a flavor reminiscent of lemons, not the light and sweet flavor I had hoped for. Where was the delicious flavor I had read about and envisioned? Where was the dish I’d imagined? I’ll tell you were it wasn’t — on my plate. Will and I both ate about half of our portions. The dish just didn’t work.

I wish I could say that every fleeting thought that I have for a recipe results in a great meal. But the truth is that doesn’t happen – to anybody. Everyone has cooking disasters. And when you cook like I do – experimenting more often than not – you run the risk of having disasters more often.

Fortunately, I am usually pretty good at pairing flavors. When you think about what works together, that can be pretty easy. Rosemary with garlic. Basil with tomatoes . . . or garlic or both.

In any case, this week I am sticking with safer dishes. I can’t take another upset like that. At least not for a few weeks.

So, spill. What kind of cooking disasters have you had lately?

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Yes ladies and gentlemen, I think I need a break. Fortunately that all happened last night. And the marshmallow disaster (we’ll talk about that later) happened much earlier in the day. Too much pressure, I tell you. And it’s all self induced.

*Sigh* I just want it all to be perfect. Is that too much to ask???

The post You Know You’re Tired When . . . appeared first on Sarah's Cucina Bella.

See, I was craving something sweet but okay for you. I decided to test out a corn bread recipe I located on Cooking Light this afternoon. I’ve had corn bread before and it’s always been kind of sweet and definitely moist. That is what I was expecting.

Come to find out the sweet corn breads I am used to are a Northern thing. In the South, corn bread (real corn bread, as opposed to what we eat here) is not sweet. At all. Ever.

So anyway, I made this corn bread and was surprised when it wasn’t sweet. It didn’t hit the spot at all, though it was a good recipe – it’s just not for me.

And what I discovered was that I don’t really like corn bread after all.

There goes that Thanksgiving menu item.

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