Food Movies

Hello readers! Welcome to this posting about Food Movies, a topic I've been meaning to discuss with you so you never accuse me of not offering you a well-rounded and complete fobloog experience.

In my life, one measure of cinematic greatness is if a movie successfully illustrates a sliver of life you hadn't thought of before. If what I see opens up my heart and mind in a new way, if it touches me emotionally and that feeling lingers after I leave the theater, then I know it's done its job and is a really good movie.

Which leads me to the topic of great food movies. These are a rare breed inspired by the story of a person, a family, or a community. They contain marvelous food scenes, mostly in the foreground. And there aren't too many of them.

On the flip side, there are probably more non-food movies that contain bits of food in the background...with dear old friends cooking together in the kitchen, family BBQ's, children running across a field with fresh baked bread in hand, famous restaurant scenes. The point of these movies isn't food, though as a background item food is woven into the storyline in moments. Blow that up to a whole movie about food, and a mirror is created that illustrates our passion for the importance of food in our lives, reminding us how much it means to us and that we should never take it for granted.

The following list focuses on food movies that communicate the intense joy of food and how it impacts our lives in a poetic way (of course some are more powerful than others). The list is not complete, so if I've left any worthy entries out please let me know. After watching these, don't be surprised if you are inspired to run to the gourmet shop and hit the kitchen.

Food Movies (in alphabetical order):

• Babette's Feast
• Big Night
• Dinner Rush (more of a restaurant behind-the-scenes)
  
• Eat Drink Man Woman
• Like Water for Chocolate
• Mostly Martha (not sure this belongs?, just remade in US)
• Ratatouille
• Tampopo*
• Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory (original version)

*Touted by a friend for years, when I finally saw it I thought "eh," however it's still known as one the big food movies. Sorry, the biggest a-ha to me was discovering that the male lead--The Man in the White Suit--was the Chairman's friend in Memoirs of a Geisha).

This list does not include:

• Chocolat -- Because to me, this is a movie that pitched itself as a food movie when in fact it was really only a movie movie.
• Harold & Kumar Go to White Castle -- 'Nuf said
• Simply Irresistible -- Made me want to make éclairs again, but just a cheesy 1-star shoulda-been-a-movie-of-the-week (tho props to Patricia Clarkson and Dylan Baker)
  
• Tortilla Soup -- Made on the tails of Eat Drink Man Woman with little impact
• Wild Strawberries -- I don't think this is a food movie! (if it is, someone lemme know)
  

Until we eat again,
Marly

My Recchiuti Confession

Well hello. This week's post is simply something I wrote for a monthly contest in April 2006 when I was still a New Yorker, and it won the contest in February 2007. While enjoying a new Snickers Dark bar tonight I just realized, dear readers, that most of you have not read this.

The contest was for Recchiuti Confections in San Francisco, my favorite U.S. chocolate company (see link at right), and the prize was a glorious black box ($40 value, see left). When I never heard from Recchiuti after sending this in, I thought I didn't win and was like, hello? But as it turns out, they were saving my passionate letter for their Valentine's issue (copy-edited way down of course) and I received my black box while at USC and I think I may have shared, oh, 2 pieces. So here it is...my full-length chocolate missive, containing factual events and slightly exaggerated feelings (you'll never know how I truly felt, now will you ;)

My Recchiuti Confession – a true story, by Marly Miller, Brooklyn NY

I wasn’t looking to fall in love with chocolate. The only plan for my two vacation days in San Francisco before heading north was to unwind from the daily grind of New York living.

The Ferry Building’s a foodie mecca, hmm? That’s what the concierge said. Perfect! So I wandered over for a quick visit and you know how it works – when you least expect it, that’s when you meet your soulmate. That’s what happened to me in the Ferry Building that sunny June day. That’s when I met you, Recchiuti. You weren’t your average kind of chocolate shop, you. Reserved and subtle yet mysteriously beckoning, you were like a hip computer geek sequestering your passion, bestowing it only upon those who are worthy of your greatness. In that moment it was clear, I had to know you.

Our first moments together were rather dreamy. You had me at Fleur de Sel caramels. The emotional wave was carried forward with the honeycomb-design topped Sesame Nougat, then you sealed the deal with the Kona Coffee pyramid. I was elated! Even though we’d just met, I took you back to my hotel room where time passed in blissful discovery of your single-origin varietals. We had a beautiful night together, and then you were gone. Seriously, who knew it could be this good between a woman and her chocolate?

The next morning I wondered, how can it be that such a love exists, only so far from home? Figured the feeling would dissipate as I traveled up to the Culinary Institute, Greystone for a week of wine study. It wasn’t easy, though. I thought of you more often than Brix counts, and kept thinking things like, “If only you were here to pair with that great Pinot blend from Sonoma.”

One afternoon on St. Helena’s main drag I walked past a local chocolate store and sniggered in contempt at their confections braggingly displayed in the window. “Ha! So you think you’re a chocolate store!” Oh I did not betray you, my love, I did not yield to the temptation of another; my heart was yours! Okay, I did yield to a chocolate malted at Taylor’s, and a slice of chocolate marshmallow pie at Cindy’s, but please don’t accuse me of cheating! What’s a girl to do until she can get close to you again?! It was a shake and a dessert, not bon bons. No, never bon bons!

Days – ages – later, back in San Fran I couldn’t just skip through to the airport without saying goodbye. Not after learning the week before that no matter how much I loved you – and no matter how much you wanted me to love you – you in fact would not be moving to New York any time soon. So back to the Ferry Building I ran ever so nonchalantly to pick up some airplane sustenance – a hand-picked collection of all your caramels including the rose, burnt and limited edition passion fruit. While paying for my affection I pined, “But Scharffenberger is moving to New York!” You were resolute, “Sorry, there are no plans for us to open a store in New York at this time.” Fine! Fine. Didn’t take it personally. All I know is that’s when I knew I’d been living a lie and was actually one of those girls who chocolate settles. That all changed after I met you.

Back home in New York I couldn’t stop talking about you so of course all my friends couldn’t wait to meet you! I didn’t know how to spell you so it took awhile to find you on Google. Then I found you! *sigh* It felt a little better knowing that if I truly couldn’t live without you I could just order online. But shame on you, Recchiuti, getting me all crazy with those glimmering images of candy on the web, followed up by those awesome promotional postcards in the mail. Ahh, you were so close yet so far.

Life went on – it was a very vanilla existence – until a phantasmagoric trinity of luck was bestowed upon me that could only have been the result of answered prayers!

1) Inadvertently in Soho one day I found you at the candy counter in Dean & Deluca, my eyes ka-boing-ing upon seeing that very familiar circular disk with a honeycomb pattern on top – the Sesame Nougat! And a Kona Coffee pyramid was right next to it! No, Could It Really Be Recchiuti?? There were only a few bon bons for sale – you tease! – but I don’t believe in pride. That’s right, I bought you and we went to a movie (a chick flick). Our unexpected day together was quite bittersweet (literally). Yes that day renewed my love for you in full (not chocolate-related) bloom. When you were gone I wondered when I would ever see you again.

2) Weeks later a friend announced he was traveling to San Francisco. I grabbed his collar and pleaded, “Oh please you MUST bring me back some Recchiuti Fleur de Sel caramels!! And buy some for yourself, for I will not share!” Yes, I could have ordered online, but I really wanted my friend to meet you too. The following week he returned to New York… with a box of Fleur de Sel caramels with my name on it! Dang life was good!

3) If that wasn’t enough, Christmas was around the corner and some colleagues asked me a very silly question, “Marly, what’s your favorite brand of chocolate?” Like they didn’t already know, come on! I gently reminded them of you, hoping secretly they were not playing a cruel holiday prank and a week later you arrived in full glory! A box of Fleur de Sel caramels, a box of limited-edition chocolates and a S’mores Kit. Indeed it was an amazing day! We ran back to my apartment together and laughed and laughed, as that’s the effect of consuming mass quantities of natural-occurring amphetamines.

The season had evolved into a New York Recchiuti-loving girl’s dream come true! You, in several incarnations, were finally with me in New York, my Recchiuti-sweetened bloodstream giddily flowed as my unrequited choco-passion for you was finally sated. That Christmas was a testament to our ultimate compatibility – there was no turning back now! We were indeed soulmates and would definitely be sharing a very happy chocolate life together forevermore.

Fried Chicken Report Teaser 2

Peeps I'm gonna be honest with you... surprisingly, there's a lot of fried chicken in LA. And... it's still bathing suit season.

Yeah this means I can't try all the oodles of fried chicken (F.C.) I want to for the F.C. Report. Instead, you know it, another F.C. Teaser (without a southern accent) while I stretch out my taste-testing over a few months, updating along the way, and ultimately announcing the winner of the L.A.F.C. (also could stand for L.A.FatChick) Report later on.

Now, this week's entry is just as relevant, a sorta long-ish true food story about a man named Austin Leslie, photo above. Here goes...

Our story begins somewhere in the early 90's. I was collecting the cookbooks in the Time Life Foods of the World series. From the late 60's/70's, these were monumental in that they divided the world into food regions for the home cook pretty much for the first time.

One of the cookbooks -- American Cooking: Creole and Acadian -- included a big New Orleans section with a photo of a chef and his staff in a restaurant, Chez Helene. The caption referred to the guy in charge: Austin Leslie. The food looked comforty and delicious, the people warm and gracious. I decided if I ever visit New Orleans I'm going to Chez Helene!

So a coupla years later, in '94, Matthew and I flew down to the Big Easy and hopped in a cab bound for Chez Helene. The cab driver drove to nowhere until finally admitting he'd never heard of it, and then "Oh yeah, that place closed." I mean sure, that cookbook was printed roughly 30 years prior, yet this was still disappointing.

The next day we landed at a flea market after delightful Cafe du Monde chicory coffee and beignets when OMG, there in the piles o' stuff was a tiny Chez Helene cookbook which I rightly snapped up. This made me feel much better, because if I couldn't eat Chef Leslie's food, at least I could make it myself! (note: you guessed it, I have not, but we digress.)

About eight years or so later I read a "$25 and Under" review in The New York Times food section, which claimed that an Upper West Side hole-in-the-wall with a New Orleans-theme called Jacques-Imo served the best fried chicken in New York. Did I run? Did I doubt? Bingo, I doubted... feared it wasn't true, and drooled at the possibility of it being true.

Another year had passed before Matthew and I took a chance and went to Jacques-Imo. Beyond the slumming-it coolness of the free warm corn muffin topped with liquid Parkay, we agreed, it was the best fried chicken in New York. (To date it is still my favorite.) Excited, I went online and perused. Found out the original Jacques-Imo was in New Orleans and NY was a spin-off. The restaurant is known in both spots for its fried chicken, and oh my goodness, this because Jacques-Imo himself hired Austin Leslie as his fry cook.

(Note: Before this hiring, a late 80's TV show called "Frank's Place" was on-air, based on Chef Leslie and his Chez Helene, tho it and its revenue for Chef Leslie sadly did not last long.)

So check it, the recipe for Jacques-Imo's chicken in New York was Chef Leslie's (you can also tell because of the signature touch of persillade and sliced pickles). Meaning after all these years I did get to taste this chef's Chez Helene food, and not only was it beyond my crunch-lovin' dreams but the whole idea of it was soooo satisfying.

Soon after, John T. Edge published his book "Fried Chicken: An American Story." One of the sections features Austin Leslie, and the author mentions that he's tried to personally pry the secret fried chicken recipe out of this wonderful man but in reply the chef would merely hold out his flour-covered hands and say "The secret is in here."

I got in touch with Mr. Edge to say thanks for writing about this person, and he wrote back happy to hear there were other fans out there. So I sent Mr. Edge the fried chicken recipe from my old Chez Helene cookbook in case that was the secret one (and here is a version of his recipe that includes the persillade garnish).

Actually I was pretty thankful to have the chance to share my feelings about Chef Leslie with Mr. Edge, since I'd read in the Times that after Hurricane Katrina, Austin Leslie's health had suffered and as a result, at the age of 71, he passed away. He had recently stopped working at Jacques-Imo, however his fried chicken still lives on. If you're ever in New Orleans (sadly after this posting the New York location closed), go to Jacques-Imo and taste a few pieces of fried chicken Shangri-La -- or try to make it yourself -- as inspired by the late, great Austin Leslie.

Fried Chicken Report Teaser

Helloooo fried chicken fans of LA, or I mean, people who wish they could find fried chicken goodness in LA. The rumored illustrious Fried Chicken Report is coming to a fobloog near you, but not until next week (or the week after). THIS is your Fried Chicken Report Teaser.

My friend Joe B., and are you sitting down, confessed that years ago he had the pleasure of visiting the Kentucky Fried Chicken factory... in Kentucky! In my imagination it's only a mystical palace where urban legend says they grow chicken parts electronically without brains, not a bona fide stop on the Kentucky chicken trail. So this was very exciting.

Joe has been kind enough to let me conduct this fooblog's first man-on-the-street interview, even though at the time Joe was NOT on the street but in a car. Here we go... (p.s. I am the interviewer)

Interviewer - Joe, you've gotta tell us, how did you decide to make this momentous trip to the birthplace of KFC.

Joe - Well Marly seriously there was nothing else to do in Kentucky after the Derby and I gave up Bourbon in grad school.

Interviewer - Ah, gotcha. Hey can we talk in a southern accent now? For authenticity, as if you're still in Kentucky??

Joe - Yeah sure.

Interviewer - So when yooo went to visit KFC, what was the price to get in? Is it as muCH as Dis-knee-land?

Joe - It's free y'all, and at the end there they handed out some BOGO* cyu-pons. (*BOGO = retail term for "buy one get one free", ie. buy one drumstick get one free)

Interviewer - All right! Now I've visited the Ben & Jerry's factory up there in Yankee territory in Vermin, I mean, Vermont, and at the end of the factory toe-er they gave out tiny little cups o' ahs cream. Well were there any fried chickin samples handed out at the KFC? Popkern chickin 'n stuff? Boy do I love that crap.

Joe - No as I said beforah, just them there BOGO cyu-pons. But the chickin isn't my fave-rit so the cyu-pons EXpired.

Interviewer - Well Jiminy Cricket. So during the toe-er, did you meet the Cuh-nul?

Joe - (pause) What did you say? Did you mean the Colonel? (why did I agree to do this?)

Interviewer - Speak in the accent please!

Joe - (sigh) The Cuh-nul's dead y'all.

Interviewer - Aw shucks. Well that's a darn shame. Let's tawk 'bout them 11 herbs & spices, is that a lie that'll make Roy Rogers roll over in his guh-rave or ta-rue fact?

Joe - Sure so you think they just hand that information out for free...

Interviewer - Oh come on now, don't hold out ... I think the 11 herbs & spices must have some crehck'd peppa in theyer, some pap-rick-a, must'ed pow-der maybe...

Joe - Okay this interview's over.

Interviewer - Bye! Thank you! Take some sweet tea for the road?

(And scene...)

Stay tuned for the real Fried Chicken Report, without any unnecessary stalling, soon to appear in this very place.

Food Poetry in Two Styles

Hello… so we’re going to take it down a little this week, with some food poetry. Specifically, two pieces of different origin and style.

The first piece was on display at the Museum of Anthropology, University of British Columbia. I saw it there in June 2001 with Pina (this unaltered photo was taken there).

Love this poem, written by a present-day Asian Canadian poet who describes the migration of tea from China to Scotland way back when. It caught my eye because not long before the trip I’d worked for Lipton and was still a bit tea-focused, though even without Sir Thomas whispering in my ear, it still struck me as lovely and an important story to tell.

A Recipe for Tea
by Jim Wong-Chu ©

a modest pot
enough for
four
small cups

insert tea

green or fermented
or in a
bag

(the first ships came to trade)
the area was fukien
the traders were scottish

the water
boiled separately

brought it back
bastardized it
made it mud
drowned in heavy cream
two, three teaspoons
of colonial sugar
- - - - - - - - - - - - -

The second piece is one that I wrote as an ode to Dan (see May 10 on Planet Marly), my de facto buffalo wing partner in crime. This poem is way different in style from the one by Mr. Wong-Chu, though it's similar in that it also points to a food ritual.

To clarify the phrase “two singles, medium, extra crispy”: "single" is an order of 10 wings at our fave Atomic Wings. In the early days, when our trust was thin-skinned, Dan and I would each order a single, rather than one double, so there’d be a guaranteed balance of wing distribution. "Medium" is the heat level we preferred (heats @ Atomic are: for the sane -- mild, medium, hot; for the insane -- abusive, nuclear, suicidal), and "extra crispy," well that’s the best way to eat 'em... fried just a little bit longer so the skin is crispy, not fatty. And Duff's, La Nova and Anchor are some of "the" wing spots in Buffalo, NY.

The Buffalo Wing Poem
by Marly Miller © 2/22/96
(read in an exhibitionist Beatnik style)

Two singles, medium, extra crispy.

Their coupling, it was Fated.
The word "diet"? Oh puh-LEASE.
The antithesis to "day job"
Is some fat in arteries!

Kindred pals oft take the subway
To the only truth they know:
Tastebuds only quench from flames
From our beloved Buffalo.

Two singles, medium, extra crispy.

Primal visions we imagine
Take the place of beaus or dates:
Orange fingers, orange faces,
Orange napkins, orange plates.

If "one" is if by land,
Well then "two" is if by wings.
How about new honey-mustard
Or barbeque flavorings?

Two singles, medium, extra crispy.

Not a capon, nor some pheasants;
A mere chicken is our kingdom.
We'll be happy being peasants
As we revel in our wingdom!

Go La Nova, or go Duff's, dear.
Too there's Anchor and Atomic.
Followed by some Ben & Jerry's?
Lesser souls would surely vomit.

Fobloog Gripe List (2007)

Below is the conversation that preceded this posting:

Marly -- Hmm, what should I write about this week, maybe it's time to hit that Korean fried chicken place finally...
Diet -- Rubbish! You will not go there and that is final!
Marly -- Don't you take a hint, we're through!
Diet -- I'm the boss of this house, no new food experiences until you lose 2 more pounds and I don't mean British Sterling.
Marly -- Listen you can't control me Diet, I'm gonna squash you...
Diet -- Not if I squash you first (evil wringing of imaginary hands)

And so I, the Diet, voiced liltingly by Jon Lovitz, win blog-posting rites this week. My goal is to talk about food not in an "oh it's so delicious I must have some la la la" way but in a critical, gripe-filled negative way.

A list of food gripes--and my favorite picture that hangs on the wall in my office--in the style of magazine superlative lists (ie. Top Science Fiction films of all time) though here not in any particular order. Readers then send emails to the magazine saying "Yah how could you not mention X on that list you idiot!!!" Well feel free to do the same here, readers, though without the name calling please because even though I am a Diet and make you feel very guilty sometimes, you must know I've only got your best interests at heart.

The Planet Marly Fobloog Gripe List (2007)

1. I wish restaurant check holders had a change-holding area for people who like to give exact change. Instead, the server picks up the check holder and whisks it away and the change flies everywhere.

2. Personally, I think an omelet should be made with 2 eggs. Every sit-down breakfast place I know of makes gigantic armadillo-sized omelets with 3 or 4 eggs. Why, why?

3. While on the topic of breakfast, why isn't the default bacon preparation crispy? Is there any reason I have to ask for this every single time? As if I'm a difficult patron because I don't like eating warm raw fat.

4. How is the FDA protecting us by giving manufacturers of processed foods permission to list the ingredient "sugar" in countless ways.

5. At Gelson's when I buy chicken the chicken guy thinks he's being helpful by handing me a different pack of chicken than the one in my basket, and then he says "Take this one, it's fresher." To which I can only say "Hey thanks for letting me know you sell unfresh chicken!"

6. Why do a majority of frozen entrees add in red bell pepper where red bell pepper has no business being? It's only added for color! All those innocent frozen flavorless peppers, used for that one ridiculous thing.

7. Health warnings on Diet Coke cans are written in a secret language -- "PHENYLKETONURICS: CONTAINS PHENYLALANINE." Does ANYone (ok who hasn't done a thesis paper on nutrasweet) know what that means? Why can't they say what it means??

8. Did you know that even though Brummel & Brown margarine's claim of "made with real yogurt" is true, it's only dehydrated yogurt powder in there? No yogurt taste or benefit whatsoever. To which I say...congratulations B&B on fooling people on at least two continents.

9. Do American candy bar companies really think all it takes to increase candy bar sales is to create sorta-new versions of their popular candy bars by adding yawn-quality caramel to it? Get a clue.

10. I've been waiting for a Food Court to have an option of healthier foods that actually taste good, don't cost a fortune and aren't 80% iceberg lettuce. Yes I have found such a place in Santa Clarita, but that doesn't help me much when I'm at every other mall or airport Food Court on the planet.

Ok that's it! If anything's missed, please let us know.

Planet Marly Goes on a Diet

Oh readers, you've been so patient with me. How long have I been promising to post my years-in the-making Fried Chicken Report. I know you're waiting for this, and I am soooo sorry.

Truth is, while reminiscing about crispy skin I've also self-elected myself to review all of Ben & Jerry's new flavors (Stephen Colbert’s AmeriCone Dream, Willie Nelson’s Country Peach Cobbler, Cinnamon Buns, revamped S'more, although not yet getting around to Banana Split or Crème Brulee)...and THAT is when I realized, while in the changing room at the bathing suit store, that taste testing ice cream and fried chicken is not conducive to wearing a bathing suit!! (Who's saying "duh" out there, I will find you!)

So for this issue of Planet Marly Food Blog I cannot really talk about food, says my short-term yet cruel diet. When even an innocent Spudnut donut got rejected this morning, well then that's when you know my dedication is on fire.

While we're on the subject of trimming, are you with me when I say there are too many words in the phrase "food blog." How 'bout I call this a fooblog instead? a fobloog? a floog? Has this been done before? I'd like to call it a floog, but according to the urban dictionary "floog" means a whiny little British girl, and this food blog is in no way a whiny little British girl. Rather, it is a detour (today only), on the topic of movies. Oh yeah I am psyched.

First up, a basic refresher on movie etiquette: NO talking, cell phones, texting, long-term whispering or snack bag crinkling. But this isn't news, you already know this.

And here's the summer flicks I've seen so far, rated on a 1 to 4 M&M scale:
Disturbia = mmm
Knocked Up = mm 1/2
Mr. Brooks = mm 1/2
Paris j'Taime = mmmm
Spiderman 3 = mm 1/2
Surf's up = mmm

Alas thinking about movies just leads me to think more about movie popcorn. And due to this diet it's true I gave up my ritual of the buttered 'corn fix Sunday at the AMC. Popcorn is now all I can think about, pop pop, crunch crunch, wafting butter smell wafting butter smell. Ok ok you've made your point, maybe I am weak and can't post to this fobloog without mentioning food. Let's just run with it... Here is a short list of items I like to add to my popcorn:

1. butter
1a. butter and Louisiana hot sauce
1b. butter and shredded Cheddar cheese and pecans and black pepper
2. butter-flavored oil
2a. butter-flavored oil and plain M&Ms
3. sour cream and chive flavor
4. white cheddar flavor
5. truffle oil and sea salt

And you wonder why I'm on a diet??