Put Some Clothes On, Gwyneth! You’re Gonna Get Burned

Let’s take a break from politics today, shall we? Let’s talk, instead, about everyone’s favorite Coldplay-divorced actress and lifestyle brand who famously sells candles in the scent of her own, uhhh, beeswax.

It goes without saying Gwyneth Paltrow wouldn’t last long in my native rural South. The first time she showed up at the Baptist potluck (“It’s Placenta Soup with just a hint of basil oil!”), she’d be shown the door with the heartfelt promise of prayers for her endangered soul.

TBH, I hadn’t thought about Gwyneth Paltrow in quite a while. And it was honestly kinda wonderful. Because while I consider myself a feminist and a liberal, her aspirational products and posts via “Goop” magazine often made me wonder if I was even fit to define myself in those terms.

Say what you will, Gwyneth has an uncanny ability to know the exact moment it’s time to do something to get back in the public eye. I suspect she split with that cute Chris Martin just so she could tell us it wasn’t a separation so much as a “conscious uncoupling.” Although we had a giggle at the pretension of that phrase it damn sure stuck and before you knew it, even Tammy and Dale down at the Royal Palms trailer court were announcing THEY were consciously uncoupling “on account of Dale had a second family a few counties away.”

And that’s Gwyneth’s genius! She has a way of making crazy go mainstream. We don’t even smirk at her vagina candles anymore. To do so would be so, I dunno, 2010.

There was always an unapologetic need to “go there” with Gwyneth which I do find admirable. I suspect she knows she’s full of shit but it’s very marketable shit and it doesn’t hurt anybody really. So what if she loves a coffee enema or recommends “gem-infused vampire repellent” for the home? (No Gain-scented Febreze for this girl!) Perhaps one of her oddest pronouncements was her fondness for shooting ozone gas up her butt for improved health. How very Gwyneth to have gas blown INTO her butt. When’s the last time a friend confided they wished they had MORE intestinal gas during the day? Exactly.

She’s a genius at detecting even a slight decline in her influencer status.

I picture her stepping outside in the wee hours of the night, turning her patrician nose toward the East and sensing a nearly imperceptible drop in relevance much like the arctic wolf uses his superior sense of smell to discover prey miles away.

What to do? How to recapture the world’s attention? Easy. Just drop a social media post of yourself cooking breakfast topless.

Lord. Have. Mercy.

Last week’s post, #boyfriendbreakfast, was utterly tasteful, showing Gwyneth from behind stirring her skillet wearing cute white linen shorts with only a braid down her nekkid back.

My first thought was fear for her safety. Surely, she wouldn’t fry up Jimmy Dean sausage this way. I wear a sports bra under a nightgown under an apron to protect me from splatters when I make my version of a “boyfriend breakfast” and even with all that I’ve had a few mishaps from popping grease.

Would her boyfriend-now-husband (name doesn’t matter) know to roll her up in the rug she loomed from the fur of her backyard alpacas if she experienced an actual kitchen fire?

Gwyneth is otherworldly in her lack of concern about such mundane matters. If she did sustain a minor burn, she’d simply apply the aloe she keeps in a pot she threw on her wheel and fired in her kiln the week before.

And the funny part is you have no idea whether I made that up or not, did you? She’s THAT good.

I’m no prude but it’s hard to imagine most moms lazily tending their shirred eggs like a Zen garden while topless, kids clamoring for an Eggo in the background.

But that’s the difference between a Big Idea person like Gwyneth and a hick like me, I guess.

Well, that, and the whole not enough gas thing.

OK, time to cook. Put your damn clothes on. These are fantastic!

BOBBY FLAY’S LEMON RICOTTA PANCAKES

1 and 1/3 cups all-purpose flour

¼ cup sugar

1 heaping tablespoon baking powder

¼ teaspoon salt

1 cup ricotta cheese

3 eggs

¾ cup milk

½ teaspoon vanilla

1 lemon, juiced and zested

Real maple syrup or spreadable fruit jam (any flavor)

Lightly whisk together in a small bowl flour, sugar, baking powder and salt. In a separate large bowl, whisk together ricotta, eggs, milk, vanilla, lemon juice and zest. Whisk the flour into the wet ingredients until just combined. Don’t overmix; some lumps are OK. Too much mixing makes the batter tough, not fluffy.

Heat griddle to 350 or use a large cast iron skillet. Lightly brush the surface with vegetable oil. For each pancake, measure out 1/3 cup batter. Pour onto hot cooking surface and flip when bubbles form on top. Put a pat of butter on top to melt while bottoms cook, just about 1 minute. Makes about 10-12 pancakes. Serve with warm maple syrup or spreadable fruit. Have a few left over? Wrap ‘em up and stick them in the freezer. They microwave beautifully.