This past Friday night, I had my friend Hillary over for dinner, with plans to go dancing afterward. And most importantly, for the opportunity to watch an episode of Nip/Tuck.

Nip/Tuck Season 1

Nip/Tuck is the first of the semi-tawdry, character-driven cable shows that captured my interest. Since that time, I have discovered that there are three kinds of people in this world—those who love Nip/Tuck, those who hate Nip/Tuck, and those who have never seen Nip/Tuck. Why does it rub so many people the wrong way? On a superficial level, it is definitely a morbid curiosity kind of show. If you're not in touch with a part of yourself that is fascinated with the darker sides of life, then you're probably not going to like Nip/Tuck. That, and the plastic surgery angle makes vanity a prominent theme in this show. I once read a viewer complaint about Nip/Tuck online, wherein the complainant said that it was just another show about beautiful people. Well, my first answer to such a complaint is, "Welcome to American television." My second answer is, "At least in Nip/Tuck the preoccupation with physical appearance is thematically important." It is ultimately a show about the human urge to strive toward perfection, and the persistent impossibility of that goal. But a lot of people tend to find vain characters too unlikable to stomach. I happen to like unlikable characters. And Christian Troy may very well represent the pinnacle of fabulous unlikable characters (a statement I make only because Brian Kinney is sometimes likable).

Christian Troy and the matching sunglasses

So, when I discovered that my friend Hillary is among the first group of people on this earth—those who like Nip/Tuck—I invited her over for dinner and an episode. The difference between us, however, is that Hillary started watching Nip/Tuck in the current and fourth season, whereas I have seen all three previous seasons and am waiting for such time as Season 4 is released on DVD. Thus, watching the pilot episode was our obvious choice. For dinner, I whipped up two servings of my Gussied-up Marinara (see recipe below), poured some red wine and put in Disc 1. The first episode is in many ways emblematic of the first season. The stylish, sunny and glitzy Miami milieu is as much a character as anyone else. The range of character Julia McNamara (Joely Richardson) is on display as she fluctuates from looking awful to looking gorgeous, and from playing the doormat to seizing control in tempestuous outbursts. Sean McNamara (Dylan Walsh) is given a great introduction and the audience given a taste of his complexity. Sean is a character who sometimes makes bad decisions, and at times is something of a sad sack, but unlike characters such as Ted Schmidt, Sean McNamara always seems at the helm of his life, even when he's weak and wounded. My favorite character, of course, is the expressly unlikable Christian Troy (Julian McMahon), and his character is perhaps best established and set up for the season ahead in this pilot episode. A veritable asshole in every aspect of his life, Christian Troy's only redeeming characteristics are his affection for Sean and Julia, and his bruised past. He's the sort of character that I love to watch when he's on top of the world—he's that amazing, seemingly invincible man of the world. But this first episode makes clear that he's not invincible, and shows us that it's just as fascinating to watch the giant fall. The quintessential Christian Troy moments in this episode are when he picks up blonde bombshell Kimber in a trendy Miami bar and then tells her how much plastic surgery she needs, when he has a tender moment fondling Julia, when he comes under attack from his enemies—who use his own Botox against him—and of course, when he shows up wearing sunglasses that match his shirt.

At least the décor is snazzy

After dinner and Nip/Tuck, we ate dessert—two vanilla cupcakes from Dozen in Squirrel Hill, courtesy of Hillary. I'm not big on cake, but for once, I actually enjoyed the cake more than the icing, which also was good but a little sweet for my taste, and I suspect chocolate icing on vanilla cake would have captured my heart more thoroughly. After dessert, we headed down to the Strip for dancing. After some research online, I recommended Altar Bar. I had not been to this dance club since it was Sanctuary, before a change of management, and when I saw on their website that Fridays are ladies night—thus admitting ladies free before 11:00 pm—I figured it was the perfect opportunity to give it a try. As it turns out, websites can be deceiving. Perhaps the first tip-off to our evening ahead should have been when we pulled up to Altar and found a parking space, literally, right out front. After being carded at the door by a host dressed all in black with a white silk tie, we were informed that the cover charge was $2. I asked about the ladies night special, and the host informed me that they were no longer running that special. Such an eventuality would be unsurprising if I had found the ladies night information on a third party review website, such as CitySearch or AOL, but I had found it on their very own website that very same day. In fact, today, three days later, the website still proclaims the Friday no cover charge special. Still, $2 is a cheap cover, and so we paid and went in. Altar Bar is a snazzily done club, with huge television screens above the bar, hardwood floors, stained glass windows, black drapes, chrome and wood seats. But there were very few people around, and most of them were at least ten to fifteen years older than me and Hillary. Well, it was only 10:30 right? We grabbed a table on the periphery of the dance floor so to sit and chat while waiting for the crowds to roll in. I suppose we could have gotten drinks, but we were expecting to dance, and I get too dehydrated when I drink and dance. The music was a good variety of techno-remixed but still recognizable songs from the recent past. However, when the hour approached midnight, there was still only a string of patrons at the bar. No dancing except a bit of shoulder-bopping among the bar patrons. Deciding it was no great loss to eat the $2 cover, Hillary and I set out into the Strip. After all, it's a club district, right?

The alleged interior of Privilège

We should be able to find someplace else to dance. Not so much, as it turned out. With the exception of two clubs, everything we walked by looked about as dead as Altar. I guess the Friday night patronage isn't enough to fill the clubs, leaving the club-goers spread too thin across the available venues. Of the clubs that were hopping, one was Déjà Vu Lounge, which had what looked like one rockin' salsa night. Both of us being into latin dance, we were sorely tempted to go in, only... we hadn't planned to go salsa dancing. Those folks who have never been salsa dancing may not realize the difference—regular club dancing is largely stationary for the feet, thus backless platform sandals represent no problem. Salsa dancing is a different story, and our feet were ill-equipped for it on Friday. After a fair bit of further wandering, we caught an ebb of metro-sexual men and followed them to Privilège Ultralounge, a not-at-all pretentious sort of place on Smallman Street. There was a line to the front door and more people kept coming. Clearly a good crowd, but we were wary after our Altar experience. We asked the valet parking guy what the cover charge would be, and he informed us $7. It was already 12:30 and after a bit of debate we decided to call it a night and not wager an even larger cover charge on a club we knew little about just an hour and a half until closing time. Hillary and I could only lament that if Christian Troy were with us, he'd pay our cover charge, and we'd be happy to field his plastic surgery pitch in return.


Gussied-up Marinara

whole wheat pasta of your choice
jar of store-bought marinara (my favorite is Bertolli Cabernet Marinara)
cayenne pepper or crushed red pepper flakes, to taste
blanched slivered almonds
shredded parmesan, romano or asiago
crumbled gorgonzola

Prepare the pasta according to package directions. Heat up the marinara sauce and add as much cayenne or red pepper as you like. If you're not into spicy food, just add a pinch. Trust me, it won't be too much. In a dry, non-stick skillet, toast the almonds on a low fire, stirring often until they turn golden brown. Drain the pasta when done and toss with the marinara sauce. Plate the pasta and sauce (i.e. divide it up among however many plates you're serving) and top with, first, the shredded cheese, then the gorgonzola and finally the toasted almonds.