Christmas came early ’round these parts!

A few weeks ago, I discovered The Alchemist’s Blog, where Alchemy Gen writes about food and its attendant issues with real thoughtfulness and verve. When I came to her entry asking for tips and tricks on hosting a cookie exchange, of course I waded right in, because who doesn’t like to give advice? Especially advice that lingers lovingly on sweet, sweet cookies and holiday fun?

And that brings us to the early Christmas: today, Alchemy Gen emailed to notify me that she’d be sending me a sweet cookie-making kit, complete with moveable type for embossing personalized slogans. I couldn’t be more tickled! I know for sure: next Christmas, I’ll honor family jokes..

[Note: Uncharacteristically salty language ahead!]
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We buy a roll of paper towels every few months, whichever roll is cheapest and, though I know it pains the manufacturers and designers, with no attention to the prints — oh, I’m sorry: the “eclectic little ’story-based’ vignettes that spell the end of any messy tale.”

But while wiping up spilled butter, I just noticed the motto adorning the paper towel in my hand: “You can bury a lot of troubles digging in the dirt.”

I cannot be the only person who immediately reads this as advice on disposing of the body.

At a time when we’re steeped in Christmas classics, it’s tempting to explore the underbelly of holiday films: Christmas movies that don’t feel like Christmas*. Eyes Wide Shut, Stanley Kubrick’s controversial final film, is perhaps the least family-friendly of the bunch, unless your kids love meandering tales of urban misadventure, marital strife, and secret sexual cabals of rich, powerful men and doped-out supermodel types.

After a disturbing evening at a wealthy client’s holiday party and a disillusioning argument with his beautiful wife (Nicole Kidman), Dr. Bill Harford (Tom Cruise) wanders around the streets of New York in a fit of jealousy and envy. It’s never quite clear, however, what sparks his jealousy: his wife’s fantasy revelations or the sexual power his client wields. Bill all but sleepwalks through the film, which is a vague, quasi-sexual odyssey of frustration and missed connections, all shot against the background of a city festooned with holiday ornaments.

Though Eyes Wide Shut was promoted as an erotic thriller, it is anything but; it’s a dark examination of class and economic power. Even the Christmas trimmings and tinsel show the economic core of the film: the contrast between the lush decor of the upper-crust homes and the pathetic glimmer of downmarket locales speaks louder than words could do.

With its emphasis on the transactional dynamics that plague modern society, about the ways we try to buy and sell each other’s attention and affection… hey, it just may be a modern American Christmas movie after all.

* Tis the season… to be fed up with tinsel and carols, with bustling crowds and brimming cups of nog. If you’re exhausted from the holiday whirl, relax with these seasonal films that take place at Christmastime but are decidedly un-Christmassy. Here are a few more:

The Lion in Winter
Die Hard
Brazil
Holiday
The Shop around the Corner
Toy Story
Doubt
Kiss Kiss Bang Bang
Better Off Dead
The Apartment
The Proposition
Eyes Wide Shut
Meet John Doe
Twelve Monkeys
Three Days of the Condor
The Conversation
Bell Book and Candle
Gremlins
Diner
The Thin Man
Trading Places
Edward Scissorhands
The Ref
The Ice Harvest
Less Than Zero
The Matador

Sometimes little successes feel big. I think there’s value in celebrating these small triumphs, remind ourselves that we did well at something, even something small.

So, a few small success stories:

I tempered chocolate! After reading several guides to tempering chocolate, each more confusing than the last (a heating pad? really, Alton?), I shrugged, gathered my tools, and took a whack at it. Hey, presto — glossy, shiny, well-tempered chocolate that doesn’t smear or smudge. I felt so accomplished!

I finished my (admittedly modest) Christmas shopping (though there’s lots of making and baking left to do), and I did all my gift shopping with local vendors. Thank you, independent booksellers, movie, and music shops!

I gathered some wrapped gifts to take to the post office, and announced to the room, “Now I just need a box exactly this big and I’m all set!” And then I rummaged around our seemingly box-free home, and I found one. Eerie!

1. At last night’s rollicking holiday party, a certified honest-to-goodness proper hairstylist told me how much she likes my new haircut, a graduated bob. I particularly enjoyed the compliment, since I cut it myself, backed up to the bathroom mirror with scissors in one hand and a mirror in the other.

2. Today I finished my modest pile of Christmas shopping, all in one blast! (There’s lots of baking and making left to do, but no shopping.)

3. The timer just rang, and that means my jacket potato is ready!

With the recent snowfall, I’m starting to get in the holiday spirit. Today, I’m celebrating a little early with Eddie Murphy and Dan Aykroyd in Trading Places. There’s nothing like betrayal, penury, and revenge on the Wall Street bigwigs to give life that Christmas twinkle!

Louis Winthorpe III (Aykroyd) is a privileged and successful executive in a ritzy brokerage house, but his even-more-privileged bosses (Don Ameche and Ralph Bellamy) wonder if his success is due to his own efforts or to his upbringing and surroundings. With the callous insouciance of the mindbogglingly wealthy, they use Winthorpe’s life and livelihood as a the basis for a brotherly bet: toss him out of his envied position, ruin his reputation, and see if he sinks or swims. In his place, they groom street grifter Billy Ray Valentine (Eddie Murphy), a smart cookie with little formal education and a mismatched set of social skills, but loads of charisma and life experience.

The plotline is silly and in other hands could easily be stilted and predictable or become a dismissive and superficial buddy comedy, but Murphy and Aykroyd make the whole thing hum along like a beautiful machine. And a machine it is; the film’s clockwork structure owes a good deal to the screwball comedies of the 30s and 40s, and particularly to the social-class comedies like The Lady Eve or My Man Godfrey.

Trading Places is also a buddy movie, and it’s marvelous to watch Aykroyd and Murphy let their incompatible types find the niches and nooks of compatibility between them. They inhabit their characters so fully, imbue them with real depth and intelligence and humor, never letting them feel like caricatures or plot vehicles. The story does deal with a great many racial and social stereotypes, and imperfectly acknowledges them as stereotypes, but the central parts are so marvelously cast, so intensely alive and real, that I can forgive it its failings.

Also, it’s freakin’ funny, so there’s that.

update: The Fella picked up my review his weekly new-release column with Justin Ellis of the Portland Press Herald. You can read their full column here and here.

Nora Ephron’s Julie and Julia (to be released on DVD next week) melds together two disparate tales: Julia Child’s posthumously published memoir of her culinary education, and Julie Powell’s blog-to-book account of a year cooking her way through Child’s encyclopaedic Mastering the Art of French Cooking, V. I & II (co-written with Simone Beck and Louisette Bertholle).

It should surprise no one that Meryl Streep was the choice to bring the larger-than-life Julia Child to the screen. Of all actors working today, only Streep could hone her voice and mannerisms to echo the unique rolling giggle, the highs and lows, the familiar and beloved songbird voice of Julia Child.

What is surprising: how marvelously Streep captures Child’s essence: the vim, the brio, the joie de vivre and jolly bravado that Julia Child brought to all her public enterprises… and how beautifully the film peeks into the vigor that she brought to private life, as well. Streep’s Julia Child embraces life with a cheeky, boisterous air and a sexy sauciness that extends beyond the kitchen. Rarely has the screen seen a couple as frankly and believably in love as Julia and Paul (Stanley Tucci), her dapper diplomat husband.

Indeed, the whole film is filled with canny casting choices. Watching Jane Lynch and Meryl Streep crowing and groaning and giggling together, you can easily believe them as sisters. Chris Messina plays Julie Powell’s loving but ill-treated husband, and he transforms the thankless doormat role into something both earnest and wryl.

Then there’s the biggest casting trick of all: Amy Adams as Julie Powell. Adams brings twinkle and cuteness to a part that is, frankly, pretty unsympathetic: Julie Powell’s writing voice is blankly self-involved, entitled, and whiny, simultaneously resentful of the task she had set herself and and ignorant of its depths. Amy Adams takes all those attributes and wraps them up into an almost lovable package of spunky determination and colorful failures, bringing a taste of sweetness and a bit of backbone to a shrill, unlikeable character.

sandwich sign photo courtesy of Jagosaurus

It’s on! The fourth Sandwich Party has begun!

What a friend we have in cheeses! Jagasaurus eats take-out, and good-looking take-out indeed! It’s a grilled provolone and pepper sandwich on sourdough. In the Flickr comment thread, Jag gives an understated but thoroughly convincing endorsement:

I don’t know why I don’t go to Earl’s more often. They do good work and they have canisters of Old Bay everywhere.

Come Friendly Bombs experiences the wrath of the Leprechaun Burger.

It is a pub burger. It is accompanied by beer not much warmer than the pub fries, beer charged with nitrogen, whose creamy, foamy head forgives all. Almost all.

Cheeseburger cheeseburger cheeseburger! It seems to be a trend. (Does two occurrences constitute a trend?) Erik does his expatriate’s duty and makes a fine-looking hamburger sandwich:

As an expat, one encounters a lot of strange stereotypes about what foreigners think your country is like. Probably the most common I’ve heard is that Americans eat nothing but hamburgers. Rather than dispel this myth, I’ve sort of adopted it as part of my “the American expat” role. For five or six years now I’ve thrown a hamburger party on the Fourth of July, and somehow it’s become a ritual on my daughter’s monthly birthday celebrations. So here we go.

Simon goes back to basics:

Having contributed Belgian and Italian recipes in previous years, I wanted to return to my homeland. Wikipedia claims that cheese sandwiches are quintessentially British (I can hear the howls of protest and derision from non-British readers even now), so who am I to contest the collective wisdom of the internet? A cheese sandwich it will be. Or rather, two cheese sandwiches. Two simple but honest, blokey, British cheese sandwiches.

These two simple but honest cheese sandwiches turn out to be the down-to-earth British staple of cheese and Branston pickle, and the cheese and — wait, what? See the delicious unorthodoxy for yourself.

Maven makes a modern holiday classic, the vegetarian post-Thanksgiving sandwich:

What you see here is Quorn roast, sliced, with vegannaise and sambal oelek (a kind of chili paste and a crucial condiment to keep on hand) and avocado on toasted wheat bread from New French. It was good.

Frédérique offers up perfect tiny ice cream sandwiches:

I made tart cherry ice cream. With all the leftover egg whites, I decided to try making macarons (French macaroons). I give you the Chocolate Macaron Ice Cream Sandwich: tiny, decadent, and absolutely delicious.

My own sandwichery (sandwichcraft?) will have to wait a bit: I’m hampered by a busted camera, a pinched nerve, and a bread shortage. But there will be sandwiches. Oh, baby. is afoot. Oh, baby.

After a good hour of fiddling, fussing, and cussing, I resigned myself to the reality of a properly busted camera, which means the photos of my sandwiches lie, trapped, inside the camera instead of posted here in all their glory. A pity, too, since they’re so colorful.

I started with a controversial sandwich (rather than a controversial doughnut). You will recall that a burrito is not a sandwich… but is a quesadilla a sandwich?

In past Sandwich Parties, we have featured a pancake-and-peanut-butter sandwich, an apple sandwich, pizza sandwich, at least two cracker sandwiches, and several ice cream sandwiches. Clearly, a sandwich does not live by bread alone.

But is a quesadilla a sandwich?

If you could see my example*, you might agree that a quesadilla can be a sandwich. I made a sandwich, a sandwich, I say!, of smashed sweet potatoes (leftover from Thanksgiving) with Parmesan on sandwiched between, I say! a halved whole wheat tortilla, generously seasoned inside and out with cumin and chili powder and grilled to a toasty brown. I served it with a dish of huevos con whatnot. It was a simple and superb dinner on a cold, wet evening.

Having seen Sparkdance’s luscious arepa sandwich, I revoke my admission of controversial sandwich status: foodstuffs stuffed into an arepa constitutes a sandwich! Therefore, my quesadilla constitutes a sandwich.

But back to the arepa! From the tags, I infer that it’s (oh, brace yourself for delicious envy!) roasted pork shoulder, tomato slices, avocado, guayanas cheese, and mango sauce on a gluten-free arepa. Oh. Oh oh oh. I’ll have what she’s having.

My second sandwich: I made M&M cookies for a friend’s birthday. I used Nestle’s Tollhouse cookie recipe, substituting M&Ms for chocolate chips. Plain M&Ms, not peanut… but that sparked a thought. I slapped together a sandwich of crunchy, nutty, all-natural hippie-dippie peanut butter between the two crispy cookies. The sweet, crispy cookie with a hint of salt, the shattering shell of sugar over chcolate, and the earthy, unctuous ground note of the peanut butter — it’s a taste sensation, I tells ya. And so colorful!*

*D’oh, I wish I could show you the photos. I’ll see if I can’t sort out the camera this week.

edited to add a bit of blog business: I hope anyone reading this won’t find their appetite diminished. Don’t forget that the fourth Sandwich Party starts this weekend. Jagosaurus and I will be rounding up the entries all weekend long, so get your sandwiches ready and leave us a comment, here or there. Happy sandwiching!

Happy Thanksgiving! Please enjoy this selection of search phrases leading readers to Macbebekin this week. They’re drawn here by the varied and revolting Can I eat this? archives, and many of them click through to the linked Ask Metafilter questions to find answers, more or less, to their food safety questions.

Our search logs cut off longer search strings mid-word, which lends a poignant mystery to them; we’ll never know, for example, whether the chicken broth smells like rotted or smells like rotting, or what the noun might be.

left giblet bag in safeway turkey
why does my chicken broth smell like rot
is it dangerous to eat olives from fizzi
if you brine the turkey and forgot to pu
blue tint to brined turkey
is canned ham safe if left unrefrigerate
i life my turkey out overnight-can i sti
brined turkey smell rotten eggs
2 year expired turkey ok to eat
i left my turkey on the counter for 3hou
i left my turkey in the car for 5 hours
chicken broth smells like rotten eggs

and the fiercely determined

to hell with vegetarians on thanksgiving

Remember: the fourth Sandwich Party is coming up just a week from now! Get your appetites and your cameras ready! If you’re looking for inspiration, check out:
- The Rubik’s Cubewich, a cube of toasted bread, meats, and cheeses, liberally slathered with awesome.
- Esquire’s feature on the best sandwiches in the U.S.. Weirdly enough, it includes the McRib and the Chick-fil-A chicken sandwich, which is enough to make me look at the list with hearty suspicion.
- A month of sandwiches!
- If you’re imagining a sandwich made with Thanksgiving leftovers, Marcus LeShock’s round-up of Chicago’s best Thanksgiving sandwiches should give you some food for thought.

If you need a little practice, you can play the Lilo and Stitch Sandwich Stacker game without letting it get smashed!

Pro-tip: Frozen sandwiches do not seem like a good idea. Some highlights from these reviews:
“…a grilled microwaved chicken sweet and slimy onion sandwich.”

“The cheese doesn’t so much make you think ‘cheese’ as make you feel like the ghost of cheese is somehow wrapped across the top of the sandwich.”

“However, if you’re after a sandwich with a watery cheese filling with beef strips that seem like they’re not all wrapped up in a scarily dry, flaky crust, this sandwich is for you.”

To sum up: Sandwiches, good. Frozen sandwiches, bad. Leftovers as sandwich stuffing, good. Sandwich party? GOOD!

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