Showing posts with label Fun with Food. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Fun with Food. Show all posts

11 January 2008

Chicks and Salsa



Author: Neil Numberman
Illustrator: Paulette Bogan

This is a silly story about chickens who are bored of eating the normal barnyard fare and look to spice things up a little bit. Coincidentally, this is also the name of the survival manual for graduating fraternity brothers titled Chicks and Salsa: How to Score with the Ladies in the Big City.

As you'll see in the following excerpt, there are some surprising similarities between the two books.

(Disclaimer: the views expressed in the excerpt below do not necessarily reflect those of the Bottom Shelf.)

RULE #1: LEARN TO SALSA


by Brother Shoehorn (Sigma Alpha Pi) and Brother Moosedroppings (Omega Delta Delta)






Trust us bro. We know you're gonna to feel silly swinging your hips around the dance floor. We know you'd rather be bangin' your backwards baseball cap to some Dave Matthews or the Beastie Boys (who f****in rule!). But trust us dude, it will be well worth your time.

Once you find yourself in the city and away from the comfort of your boys on frat row, you will inevitably find yourself in a club with latin music of some sort. There you will see all kind of bizarre things. You'll see the oldest man there dancing with the blazinest chick in the club. Or worse, some four-eyed doofus pulling a Kucinich* and sashaying across the floor with some hottie. You will ask yourself, "What the?! What is going on here? Have I entered some kind of twilight zone where generic good looks, trust funds, and chugging ability mean nothing anymore?!"



*Pulling a Kucinich: Being with someone who is obviously waaaaaaaaay out of your league.







Don't panic. No need to get your Dockers in a bunch. What's happening is what we like to call the Chicks and Salsa Phenomenon. (Inside Tip: Now that you're in the real world, don't call them chicks. You have to call them "ladies" if you want to get anywhere)... anyways, the problem is that these ladies are in the city and they want to spice up their lives a little bit. Which means that they'll dance with any goof who knows how to salsa. They're tired of the tried and true bars where we are most comfortable. Those home-away-from-homes where we can do boat races or clear off a table for an impromptu game of beer pong. Those bars where we can comfortably stand in one place rhythmically nodding our heads to some righteous tunes.

So, if you know what's good for you... wait, hold on a sec, what are you doing still reading? Reading is for losers! Take our word for it and go sign up for a salsa class now! It will make you a man amongst bros. You can be that dude that's dancing with a chick--i mean, lady--who is out of your league. And don't worry, the salsa only needs to be used for the first month of dating or so, then you can go back to being your awesome fratastic self. Now close this book and get back out there! With any luck, even you can pull a Kucinich of your own!

04 December 2007

Ratatouille: DVD Special Features



Given the intensity of today's DVD Special Features, it's no surprise that we never get to them all. And to be honest, as enlightening as the Director's Commentary may be, most people rarely take the time to sit through it (if you're like me, you run out of steam after the deleted scenes and the outtakes/blooper reel).

However, since Ratatouille is one of my new favorites, as a special service, I've transcribed a portion of the Director's Commentary from the Limited Issue Collector's Edition of Ratatouille that I thought you'd find particularly enlightening. Enjoy!



Scene: Remy Cooks the Soup
Time:
00:23:32 - 00:34:46
Commentary by: Brad Bird (Director, Writer) and John Lasseter (Executive Producer)

Bird: This might be my favorite scene. It really epitomizes one of the driving forces behind the story, and that is the transcendent nature of art. How one can just get swept up in the divine process of creation, whether it be cooking, painting, or animating. Here Remy delays his escape, literally putting his life on the line, in order to satisfy his artistic impulse. It's really quite beautiful.

Lasseter: I couldn't agree more. As artists, we all know that risk is an essential component to all great art. Without risk, there is no reward.

Bird: And this project in and of itself was a huge risk. I mean, the idea of creating an entire movie around a rat in the kitchen... and cooking no less! You don't know how many people thought we were totally nuts. Though to be honest, we weren't exactly treading new ground here. Rodents have been at the heart of children's entertainment for generations.

Lasseter: And because of the Disney connection, people always assume that Remy was a descendent of Mickey Mouse...

Bird: Yeah, that's the first thing people always ask me. But, to be honest, while I was putting the script together, I didn't consider Mickey to be a good role model for the Remy character. For me, as great as Mickey was, he was always a creation… never the creator. He was the product of Walt Disney's imagination, but the character himself lacked imagination… I always found him to be kind of bland... the likeable straight man in a world of fantastically complex characters. To find a suitable ancestor for Remy, I had to draw upon a character who felt the same creative impulse. I found just the guy in another beloved rodent: Leo Lionni’s Frederick.



Lasseter: When Brad told me this, I nearly fell out of my chair, because Frederick was one of my childhood favorites. You all know the story, a band of mice prepares for the harsh winter, but one of them, Frederick, collects words and colors instead of food. At first, everyone thinks he's lazy, but as the cold months drag on and they run out of food, Frederick's artistic vision inspires them and allows them to survive for the duration of the winter. Inspiration and imagination warms the body and soul and the power of art triumphs over circumstance.

Bird: Right.... so as you can see, Remy and Frederick have a lot in common. They really are cut from the same cloth. They both start out as outcasts because of their artistic tendencies. They both want to elevate themselves from the mundane through their art. However, I was always a little bothered by Frederick because I kept thinking, couldn't he have collected words and colors while lending a hand? I mean, there had to be some kind of balance between indulging in your art and the basic necessity of gathering food. I couldn't shake the feeling that despite his triumph at the end, Frederick was still kind of a freeloader.

Lasseter: Brad, I never thought I'd say this, but you're starting to sound like a Republican.

Bird: Stop it. You know what I mean. Yes, art is important, but so is sustaining one's livelihood. I mean, dude, hadn't Frederick ever heard of Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs?!

Lasseter: You're digressing. Let's get back on track, or we'll have to cut this from the final DVD.

Bird: Right. So, in order to reconcile the basic need for food with the transcendent desire to create, I had the brilliant idea to make food his art! It was quite an elegant solution, if I do say so myself.

Lasseter: Plus, with the current pop culture obsession with the culinary arts, food made the movie very marketable. I mean just look at the popularity of the Food Network, Top Chef, Iron Chef, Swedish Chef, etc. This was an idea that came at the perfect time. But that's the producer in me talking.

Bird: Yeah, the producer in you also forced me to put in that ill-conceived romance between Linguini and Collete. That one still stings... I mean, who in their right mind would believe that the tough-as-nails Collete would ever fall in love with the hapless Linguini? Suspension of disbelief can only take the audience so far.

Lasseter: Yeah, yeah, I didn't hear you complaining when Ratatouille was sitting at the top of the box office and the checks were rolling in. I know the movie industry and I know our audience. People want some love sprinkled into every story... it's like hot sauce, a little bit sprinkled on anything makes it better. People like a little spice.

Bird: What about cereal? Do you put hot sauce on your cereal?! I didn't think so. Not everything needs to be "spiced" up. Anyway, back to my point, if you take Frederick and compare it to Ratatouille, you'll start to see more parallels. The scene where Remy helps his cousin Emile visualize taste pays homage to the scene where he Frederick helps his friends visualize the colors of spring. And instead of a harsh winter, I chose to embody the impending threat of death in the chilly and crypt-like character of the food critic, Anton Ego.

Lasseter: And as all of us in the entertainment business know, a critic's chilly reception is much deadlier than even the coldest winter.

Bird: Yeah, luckily, we haven't had to deal with much of that because we only make awesome movies.

Lasseter: Yeah, we rock. High Five!

[Bird and Lasseter "high five".]

Bird: And just like Frederick's art triumphs over winter, Remy's passion and talent melts the heart of Anton Ego and rescues the critic from his perpetual winter of discontent. And in both the book and the film, the skeptical peers find inspiration in the wake of their talented friend/son. Oh, and even the name Linguini is a tribute to the great children's author... I wonder if the audience caught that. Lin-gui-ni, Li-o-nni...

Lasseter: I didn't even catch that until now!

Bird: I know, cool isn't it? High five!

[Bird and Lasseter "high five" again.]

Bird: Ooo! Ooo! This next scene is great too! It's where Linguini and Remy first communicate down by the river. There are just so many layers of complexity embedded in their interaction. To really increase the tension, I incorporated aspects of Freud's Theories of Externalization as well as a Jungian Conception of Synchronicity...

Lasseter: Oh wait--did you hear that?

Bird: Hear what?

Lasseter: That sound... I think... I think it's the sound of our audience falling asleep.

Bird: Or maybe... it's the sound of me feeding you a knuckle sandwich!

Lasseter: Bring it on, Birdman!

Bird: You asked for it... one knuckle sandwich coming up! I hope you're hungry!

---end of transcript---

05 October 2007

BSB Flashback (Updated): Cloudy With a Chance of Meatballs



Author: Judi Barrett
Illustrator: Ron Barrett

A grandfather tells his grandchildren a bedtime story about a land called Chewandswallow where the weather rains soup and sunsets are made of jello. Life is grand until the wrath of mother nature is unleashed and the citizens of Chewandswallow are forced to flee their homeland. What began as the crazy musings of an old man quickly evolves into a harrowing tale of man vs. nature and of immigration and cultural assimilation (for a more detailed account, see the book below).



Reader Beware:
Cloudy With a Chance of Meatballs has some truly disturbing illustrations. Mixed in with the sometimes awe-inspiring artwork (I particularly liked the hamburger storm clouds), the details of the illustration reveal an artist with a mischievously warped mind. For example, there is the picture of a terrified bird returning to the nest only to find that it has been smothered by a fried egg. Think about the implications of that for a second. In another particularly disturbing illustration, a sanitation truck has, what can only be described as baby heads mounted on the front bumper. Once you start noticing these things, the illustrations (which are rich with quirky little details) becomes a Where's Waldo of the surreal and macabre.

Exhibit A: It's hard to see it here, but if you look closely at the front of the truck, you'll see...




















not one...


















but TWO babies heads stuck to the front of the truck! What the?!


















In the name of all that is good and greasy, what the heck is going on here?! Do we simply write this off as strange off-beat humor.... or could there be more to this than just illustrative hijinks?

Perhaps all was not well beneath the surface of this mythical Foodtopia. Is it possible that the fantastical story of Cloudy With a Chance of Meatballs is merely state-sanctioned revisionist propaganda and the illustrator is trying to send us a hidden message, cleverly embedding it in his illustrations? Could it be that the citizens of Chewandswallow were fleeing more than just bizarre weather patterns? Maybe the Sanitation Department was just one arm of a sadistic government beast and these brave souls were escaping from the confines of a brutal totalitarian regime?

We may never be able to answer this for sure. But to be safe, I think we should all assume that...


27 July 2007

Strega Nona



Author/Illustrator: Tomie dePaola

This is dePaola's classic story that revolves around an old woman and her wonderful pot. (No, it's not about Courtney Love). Strega Nona is the village medicine woman who has a magic pot that, when the right words are spoken, produces pasta. To stop the pot, she recites another spell... and blows three kisses.

Her goofball of an apprentice (Big Anthony) jealously watches Strega Nona casting her spell over the pot, but misses the 3 kisses part. This lack of attention to detail soon leads to some Sorcerer's Apprentice-like mayhem (Note: the Sorcerer's Apprentice was not originally written by Walt Disney).

One day, Strega Nona goes out of town and leaves Big Anthony in charge. Of course, he goes out and tells everyone about the magic pot and then casts the spell, unleashing the magical pasta producing power of the pot and curing everyone's case of the munchies. Big Anthony is the man of the hour!

Unfortunately, Big Anthony doesn't know how to properly shut down the pot and it begins to boil over. A dangerous wave of noodles threatens to bury the entire village. Now everyone hates Big Anthony. That's life in the public eye for you. One minute you're on top of the world, the next minute you're being chased by an angry mob and thrown into a jail cell with Lindsay Lohan.

In the mid 80's, a community theater in Woodstock, Vermont gained national attention for their politically charged interpretation of dePaola's story. Critics flocked to this tiny hippie hamlet to see the play, which had re-imagined the story as a parable about the prevalent economic policy of the times: Reaganomics. The play was called Streganomics.



Left: A scene from Streganomics with Scott Robinski (middle) playing the Reagan-inspired character of Big Anthony, a generically handsome but bumbling doofus.






In the play, the director compares Big Anthony's short-sighted attempt to wield the power of the magic pot to the conservative party's unwaverying belief in the power of the free market. (In a particularly brutal pun, the directors replaced trickle-down economics with boil-over kitchenomics. There's a reason you've never heard of this play.)

Just as the pasta pot dangerously boils over, the U.S. economy eventually spins out of control. The economy takes on a life of its own and ushers in an era of unparrelled economic stratification. People always seem to overlook the fact that the market does not have a moral compass built in. Therefore, it should not be relied upon to magically set our social guidelines. The market must be regulated to some extent in order for it to reflect the morals of our society. (In this case, the three kisses represents the compassionate restraint imposed by socially-conscious regulatory policies.)

Just like Magic, Capitalism isn't inherently evil (as some zealots will tell you), but it's not inherently good either, and therefore its power must be wielded with wisdom and restraint... two qualities of which many politicians (on both sides of the aisle) are notoriously lacking.

In the book, Strega Nona returns to find the city under seige by pasta. She utters the magic words and blows the three kisses to bring the starchy surge to a halt. In the play, however, all does not end so well... Strega Nona doesn't come back.

The play casts Strega Nona as an exalted FDR figure, and her magic of containment is meant to represent the wisdom of the New Deal. However, just as the egalitarian principles behind the New Deal seem like a distant memory, Strega Nona's unique ability to put a lid on the magic pot is lost forever and it appears that the rising tide of pasta is irreversible.

Several people take the helm from Big Anthony, but no one has the courage to utter the magic words that might stem the tide... words such as, "progressive tax code," or "increased corporate regulation." The curtain drops with the citizens of the town buried under a sea of pasta and Big Anthony being airlifted by a private jet and flown off into the sunset.


Note: In the widely overlooked sequel, Strega Nona Meets Her Match, a mysterious stranger appears with a magic fondue pot. Lightning strikes and the two instantly fall head over heels in love. They join forces and with their two magical pots create an unending supply of Macaroni and Cheese, transforming their village into heaven on earth. Now THAT is what I call a happy ending.


25 May 2007

When Chocolate Milk Moved In



Author: Ken Harvey
Illustrator: Mary Sue Hermes

Using the refrigerator as the setting for a contrived parable about racial tolerance, When Chocolate Milk Moved In tackles the difficult issue of residential integration. The main characters in this story are two gallons of milk, Mr. and Mrs. Gallon. A new neighbor arrives and Frank is wary because the new neighbor is... chocolate milk.

"Truthfully, he was a little bit shocked by what he saw. Mr. Chocolate looked different. He was darker. Frank had been around milk his entire life and had never seen dark milk. he didn't know what to think."

Racial tensions eventually boil over when a confrontation between white and chocolate milk threatens the peace of the refrigerator. In the end, however, Frank Gallon and Mr. Chocolate overcome their differences and learn to live side by side (or shelf by shelf).

When Chocolate Milk Moved In is the first in a series called Life in the Fridge (which would later inspire the classic TV drama Homicide: Life on the Street). In a later Fridge installment, in order to preserve the peace and prevent future instances of racially motivated violence , the fridge neighborhood action committee organizes a Community Forum on Fridge Relations. Featured panelists are:

· Martin Luther King Crab Jr.
· Cesár Salad (of the United Farm Vegetable Organizing Committee)
· The Dalai Lamb Kabob
· Malcolm Xtra Crisp Lettuce

The Forum is a success until the spicy and bold Don Imustard opens his wide mouth and refers to Brocolli as a "nappy headed side dish". He is immediately cast out of the fridge and spends the rest of his days in exile on the middle shelf of the cupboard next to a box of stale saltines.

Note: This book preaching racial tolerance was written by Ken Harvey, a former linebacker for the Washington Redskins. This is notable for two reasons:

1) The Washington Redskins demonstrate a sustained disdain for race relations by stubbornly refusing to change their name despite its racially insensitive and demeaning use of Native Americans as a mascot.

2) The Life in the Fridge series was written by a former football player and it wasn't William "The Refrigerator" Perry.

14 May 2007

Little Pea



Author: Amy Krouse Rosenthal
Illustrator: Jen Corace

Peas have long been demonized as the bland villians of childhood dinners... which is understandable, since they are gross little green balls of paste. With Little Pea, author Rosenthal turns the tables on us with the story a cute little ball of energy that likes likes to hang out with his friends, roll down hills, play games with his dad--but then every night, he gets grossed out because he has to eat... candy. Aha! The tables have officially turned, my friends! Rosenthal presents an interesting premise with some clever plot twists while Corace's keen sense of style infuses the characters (which are just little green circles) with surprising energy and personality.

"Kids Take" note: Kids, take note! Are you tired of being told to "eat your peas"? Well, here's your chance! When you're at the library or the bookstore, ask your parental figure to read Little Pea to you. Then, memorize the following statement and recite it the next time you have disgusting peas for dinner:

"If everyone could please put down their forks for a minute, I have something to say. While I appreciate your hard work in providing nourishing food for me and the rest of the family, I must abstain from eating my peas tonight and, most likely, for the rest of my life. While reading Little Pea was a great moment that strengthened our adult/child relationship, I'm afraid that it has irrevocably altered the way that I view my food. Rosenthal's effective anthropomorphization of the tiny vegetables has made it impossible for me to swallow a spoonful of peas without imagining that I am devouring entire communities of pea families and their friends. My conscience, albeit in its formative stages, will not permit this. In fact, you should rejoice in the fact that I am not eating my peas. After presenting these lovely legumes as friendly little self-realized entities, if I were to enjoy eating them, it would reveal a sadistic nature that would be cause for alarm and perhaps call for years of expensive psychological counseling. In conclusion, I conscientiously object to finishing my peas and, being the forward-thinking parental figures that I know you to be, I trust that you will understand and respect this latest phase of my intellectual and psycho-social development. Good Night and Good Luck."

If that doesn't work, try throwing up on the couch. Either way, you can kiss those peas goodbye!

10 May 2007

It Looked Like Spilt Milk



Author/Illustrator: Charles G. Shaw

Tana Hoban pioneered the starkly simplistic style of illustration in (super) early literacy books with White on Black and Black on White. These books feature crisp silhouettes of easily recognizable objects which (because of their simplicity) are effective in triggering the early stages of object recognition in young children.

Shaw's book uses the same basic concept, but takes it one step beyond. He makes it slightly more challenging by making the silhouettes look like splatters of milk that happen to take the shape of everyday objects (or Rorschach inkblots).

This approach is a tad more complex than Hoban's, so there is the slightest risk of frustrated children. But then you get to say, "Hey, there's no use crying over spilt milk!" Ba dum ching!

They won't get what's so funny, so be careful not to laugh too much at your own joke. The child might think that you are laughing at their educational struggles and may give up on learning to read altogether. Then you'll both have a very legitimate reason to cry over spilt milk.

A Handy Tip from My First Post-College Bachelor Pad: If you happen to spill milk on a carpet in your living room, do not rub it into the carpet with your foot.

I know what you're thinking: "But it seems to make so much sense in that a) the spill miraculously disappears and b) I didn't have to get off the couch to get a napkin!" I understand the temptation, but trust me... use that technique and things will turn sour quickly. You might not be crying over spilt milk, but you will be crying over your inability to keep a girlfriend because you live in a freakin' pigsty.

22 February 2007

Gus and Button



Authors: Saxton Freymann and Joost Elffers
Illustrator: Saxton Freymann

For those of you who thought the drug references in Alice and Wonderland were just a little too subtle, give this story of a curious mushroom and his mind-altering adventures a shot. Freymann and Elffers first staked their claim to fame with How Are You Peeling and Play With Your Food, where they introduced the world to an assortment of expressive characters made out of fruits and vegetables. In Gus and Button, they step it up a notch by creating an entire world out of produce. The visuals here are so sumptuously effective you might not know whether to make a run to the nearest salad bar or check yourself into rehab.

20 February 2007

If You Give A Mouse A Cookie



Author: Laura Joffe Numeroff
Illustrator: Felicia Bond

If you give a mouse a cookie, he'll ask for a glass of milk, and then he'll ask for something else, and then more, and more, until you are left with nothing except a box of matches and a half cup of uncooked rice. This book teaches us the important lesson that you should never give a mouse a human sized cookie because the sugar content is much too high for his tiny mouse system. The sugar rush will go straight to his head and turn the cute little rodent into an insatiable beast.

Interesting Side Note: When this book first came out, then First Lady Hillary Clinton, would use it during reading engagements at a number of elementary classrooms around the country. The book was also the inspiration for the chapter, "If You Give A Man An Intern" from her autobiography: Living History.

11 February 2007

Cloudy With a Chance of Meatballs



Author: Judi Barrett
Illustrator: Ron Barrett

A grandfather tells his grandchildren a bedtime story about a land called Chewandswallow where the weather rains soup and sunsets are made of jello. Life is grand until the wrath of mother nature is unleashed and the citizens of Chewandswallow are forced to flee their homeland. What began as the crazy musings of an old man quickly evolves into a harrowing tale of man vs. nature and of immigration and cultural assimilation. (For a more detailed account, see A Moveable Feast: The Mass Migration of Chewandswallow)

Reader Beware: This book has some truly disturbing illustrations. Mixed in with the sometimes awe-inspiring artwork (I particularly liked the hamburger storm clouds) the details of the illustration reveal an artist with a mischievously warped mind. For example, there is the picture of a terrified bird returning to the nest only to find that it has been smothered by a fried egg. Think about the implications of that for a second. In another particularly disturbing illustration, a sanitation truck has, what can only be described as baby heads mounted on the front bumper. Once you start noticing these things, the illustrations (which are rich with quirky little details) becomes a Where's Waldo of the surreal and macabre.

The Very Hungry Caterpillar



Author/Illustrator: Eric Carle

A caterpillar emerges from his little egg and goes on a weeklong eating spree that ends in an epic junk food binge, which results in a devastating stomachache. Intestinal fortitude is restored after he eats his way through a nice green leaf.

This is a classic allegory warning against the dangers of wanton greed and unbridled consumption. Was it also warning about the dangers of a consumer-driven society and the benefits of a greener, more ecologically friendly form of consumerism? Or maybe it was an alert against the inherent evils of imperialist expansion? (Carle grew up in Nazi Germany.) Or maybe it is just a desperate appeal for you to eat your vegetables.