The Mad Munchies

Food for Thought is a small restaurant along Arthur in Missoula, right across the street from Jesse Hall, that infamous and immense U of M dorm where, according to legend, a thick cloud of the most glorious and moist Portland ganja smoke hangs perpetually around the tenth floor. But this place across the street, Food for Thought, makes a mean grilled cheese. They make this masterpiece on twelve-grain bread with a blend of three cheeses, and should you desire, you can get tomato, bacon, or both added to the melty goodness. To me, part of the greatness of the Food for Thought grilled cheese with bacon is that particular dining establishment's ambiance. On a warm spring or autumn day, patrons can sit at the tables outside and watch everyone walk by on the sidewalks and be visible to those looking out of windows on the west side of the west wing of Jesse Hall. It's a kind of see-and-be-seen shangri-la. To someone from sidewalkless suburbia like me, the place has always seemed like the epitome of glamor, or perhaps the Garden City of the Northwest's answer to the Parisian cafe.

But speaking of grub in glamorous or famous locations, Rusty Ryan (Brad Pitt) in Ocean's Eleven really seems to have the mad munchies. The first time we see him eat in that film, he's in Los Angeles, that American pop-culture mecca to which so many people seem to dream of moving and in which so many of our movies and television shows are produced. As Rusty waits for Topher Grace to show up for the B-movie superstar poker class, he eats what appears to be an order of nachos out of one of those notorious fast-food paper boats. That food, evidently so glorious that it merits hallway finger licking, proves to be merely the beginning. When Rusty and Daniel Ocean (George Clooney) scout out Yen as part of their team, Rusty sips from a big old styrofoam cup of soda in the circus tent where Yen performs. On the way out of the tent, he's fingering cotton candy out of one of those plastic stick-bags in which cotton candy is packaged at amusement parks. Then, when he goes to Florida to recruit Saul (Carl Reiner), he mocks Saul for eating an orange and proceeds to eat some kind of jello-looking concoction with a plastic spoon in the box seats at the racetrack, a concoction which seems magically to get fuller, and by the end of the scene seems to be some kind of mixed fruit cup. But the most famous (and perhaps the most glamorous) consumption on Rusty's part has to be the shrimp cocktail at the Bellagio in Las Vegas. While Linus (Matt Damon) tells him about Benedict and Tess, Rusty munches away on a sweet-looking shrimp cocktail, the kind actually served in a cocktail glass. He even goes so far as to have the little hand towel on his arm so as not to get cocktail sauce on his ridiculously nice suit. But why all the grub? Many movies simply ignore the whole eating thing. But in Ocean's Eleven, the eating, especially the eating of such munchie-type food, creates a nice contrast with Rusty's stellar wardrobe and also compliments his laid-back demeanor. And it's glamorous as hell. I mean, who doesn't want that shrimp cocktail?

And who doesn't want that Food for Thought grilled cheese with bacon? Such thoughts remind me of Christine Scanlon's wonderful poem "The Grilled Cheese Sandwich," which was included in The Best American Poetry 2005. In it, she writes, "A well-made grilled cheese sandwich can open a vista/leading to popularity and the possibilities/for 'a good time.'" Indeed. Perhaps munching on the right thing makes us look glamorous now just as smoking cigarettes might have made us look glamorous in the 50s. And the location becomes important too. As Scanlon writes, "Where the perfect grilled cheese sandwich is/the successful party is also." So you have to look like Brad Pitt to be glamorous, then you have to munch on the right thing (a shrimp cocktail perhaps), and finally the place of your snack, something like the Bellagio in Vegas, becomes glamorous. For me, the height of glamour and sophistication is a grilled cheese and bacon on the corner of Arthur and Daly in Missoula. If you haven't had one there, I highly recommend it. It is so choice.

Ah, the beer flick...

Last weekend, while in Chicago visiting JJ and Megan, I had the good fortune to see Wedding Crashers at the Brew & View, an old converted theatre where patrons come to see a double feature for five bucks and drink the beer that can be purchased at the two bars in the back of the room. This, like many things tend to do, got me thinking. What are some of the best drinking movies? Now, I'm not talking necessarily about movies that involve a lot of drinking, though some of the ones I'll mention do, but about those during which viewers might particularly enjoy a few brewskies.

Of course, The Big Lebowski warrants first mention. My old roommate and compadre Bridger introduced me to this film, which I saw for the first time (for all you Griz alumni) in Urey Lecture Hall. I know that people have tried to match the dude white russian for white russian while watching this film, but that's impossible, and it's just inviting disaster. No one wants to consume that many mixed drinks in 117 minutes. I've also heard of people playing a game in which participants have to take a sip of their drink every time someone says an obscenity. If the white russian for white russian thing is inviting disaster, this other game is inviting death itself. I mean, seriously, the dude knows how to swear. But the point is that this film must be one of the best drinking films since it is so absurd and since it has inspired such hard-core drinking games in the past. I'm sure there are reasonable ways to practice structured drinking during The Big Lebowski, but I haven't devoted much time to thinking of them. Suggestions, perhaps?

Top Gun seems to come to mind at this point, and I know JJ and I have often suggested playing a drinking game in which participants take a drink every time there's a reference to sex. A bit extreme, perhaps, but nothing like the swearing game accompanying The Big Lebowski. In any case, Top Gun's classic cheesiness seems to lend itself to the sort of mindset involved in drinking beer while watching a film. And this film is so familiar to many of us that we don't even have to pay much attention to it while we watch. I know I could flip off some belligerent mig pilots and make a pass at my flight instructor while fetching beers from the fridge.

But anyway, even though I've only suggested two films, I'm calling it a blog. I'm sure there are many possibilities here, and perhaps over this season of holidays some of us will get together and explore them.