RSS Feed


Many years ago I saw a film which blew my mind and left me speechless. I’m talking about ‘Napoleon Dynamite’.

Before I watched it I heard about its debut at Sundance Film Festival, but the reviews at the beginning were mixed. I think people just didn’t get it.  No one expected the film to do so well and have a cult following, but that’s what happens when you assume all cinema audiences are not so bright and only want to watch films based on the same formula.

I can’t even express how much I love this film. I don’t recall popularity issue in my school as it’s showed in so many British and American films. Maybe it existed, I just didn’t notice because I was living too much in my own world. But if I was going to school like the one in the film, I would definitely want to hang out with Napoleon, Pedro and Debbie. I mean, gosh! What a team!

The film is quirky and funny, has got brilliant cast, offers some memorable quotes. I made my family and friends watch it, and 10 years after, we still use some lines from it. With Boyfriend, when one of us is annoyed we say with a big sigh, Napoleon style; ‘ I need my chapstick’. And to be honest, if I had a choice I would only vote for Pedro…After all, how many times do you have the opportunity to vote for a guy who has a sweet bike, is really good at hooking up with chicks, plus is like the only guy at school who has a mustache? Pretty sweet, huh?

So, my friend, if you have never met before, let me introduce you to Napoleon. And to break the ice, you can have quesadilla. As his grandma said: ‘Knock it off, just make yourself a dang quesadilla!’




2 corn tortillas (per person)

1 chopped avocado

1 cup black beans

1/2cup corn

1/2 finely chopped red pepper

1/2 grated vegetarian cheddar


smoked paprica

cayenne pepper

1. Mix all your ingredients in a bowl.

2. Heat the grilled pan. Spread the mixture on half of the tortilla. Flip the other half over to create the half moon. Grill on the pan on both sides till crispy, and the cheese inside melts. Cut in half, serve with salad and ‘Napoleon Dynamite’.





And here’s something for those who already watched it. Spoil alert! Don’t watch if you haven’t seen the film yet!

P.S. I would like to thank all nice bloggers who followed me and liked my ‘Agent Cooper Cherry Pie’ post. You are lovely people x



About potatofaces

People who cook always go on about precious memories of childhood food one of their family members cooked, how daddy or nanny taught them the importance of cooking and eating together, and they still remember the comfort food they produced, amazing dishes whipped up by brilliant but humble cooks in their family. Well, let me tell you, it was totally different in my family. My mother’s family – totally useless as cooks, who could survive on bread and butter, cooked once a week a terrible, terrible meal, usually some kind of meat piece with lots of brown sauce. Also, they were never bothered about eating together. That’s maybe why most of them were depressed and suicidal. My mother followed that path and couldn’t really cook, and because I never wanted to eat meat, was warning me that ‘one day I will regret it’. Probably because my mother wasn’t into cooking my sister at the age of 12 took over and started producing amazing dinners and cakes. Well, luckily for me and her we weren’t that genetically doomed because apparently my father’s family were gifted in that compartment. I can only presume it was genes, as my father divorced my mother when my sis and me were little and he strongly believed that he also divorced us. So, we were growing up never having any contact with him and as a result, couldn’t learn how to cook from him. That’s why I believe the love of cooking ( and the ability) was just passed to us genetically. My father, short time before he died, unexpectedly felt an urge to contact us. First he gave my sister a mandolin (that’s another thing I know about him- he played a few instruments). My sister refused to talk to him, he then decided to contact me and wanted to spend some time with me. I didn’t want to, as he was a stranger to me (I was 11 or 12 at the time) but as I was promised I could leave whenever I wanted to, I went to the village he lived in. There I tried his mother’s cooking everyone was raving about. It was simple and amazing, I wish they were as family dedicated as they were at baking, cooking, making pastries, wine, tinctures, you name it. But I ate, drunk, and got bored of strangers who were my family and demanded to be let to go home. One of the last things my father said to me was that I should start learning English because I might need it one day, which I ignored for another 16 years… Because my sister was such a domestic goddess I wasn’t really bothered about cooking. I got hooked properly after my son was born and I wanted him to eat healthy and get everything he needed, especially that it wasn’t his choice to be a vegetarian (yet). And that is how the story begins…

One response »

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: