My dad loved movies. And he loved food. And he loved creating rituals around movies and food.
When my parents were first dating, apparently, he created “theme” dates. They would go see an Italian movie, and then eat Italian food. French movie, French food. Sometimes they were really broke, and didn’t have enough for dinner AND a movie, so they might see a movie about Germany, and then drink a German beer.
I’ve written on this blog a bit about the fun that I used to have with my dad at animated movies as a little girl. In later years he had an extraordinarily large collection of movies on tape… first the Betas, then the VHS’s. Thousands and thousands of movies. Before that, he would bring projectors home from the college library, and set up a screen and movies in the living room. He loved almost everything. Odd, artsy, intellectual movies, of course. Movies with a political theme, of course. Animation and cartoons, as I’ve told you about earlier. Sci fi. Drama. Comedies. What he used to call B-movies. Hit movies. Old movies. Movies that everyone else hated.
He really loved movies.
And food.
One of my fondest memories of my dad was our “crab” ritual. We did it two or three times a year. He and I both love steamed crabs. He likes the bodies best. I like the legs and claws the best. So we made the perfect team. He ate the bodies. I ate the legs and claws.
So a few times a year my dad would buy two or three dozen crab, (yes, that is 23-36 crab!), depending on the size, and steam them in red peppers and beer. Then we would select a triple feature. Yes, three movies. Grouped thematically. The Alien trilogy was always a good bet, which we did at least once a year, as was the Godfather trilogy, which mom liked much more than Alien. Sometimes we grouped things according to theme, like a sacrilegious trilogy, consisting of Jesus Christ Superstar, The Last Temptation of Christ, and I don’t even know. Something else. Or a “retrospective of the decades of my parents’ lives” trilogy, consisting of Forrest Gump, This Time Next Year, and I don’t know… something else.
And then we would spread newspaper all over the coffee table, get out nutcrackers and bowls to put the shells in, open up a nice bottle of dark beer each, and sit and eat crab and drink beer and watch a triple feature. Literally for hours and hours and hours. Eating crab out of the shell is a lot of work, and it takes quite a while to get a lot of food. My mom would eat one or two crab, scold us if we got messy, and try and make us eat salad and vegetables of some sort along with the crab ritual. The whole event was not her thing. But she liked that it was something that my dad and I did together.
Last night Liana and I had our third “Pizza Party.” I ordered up pizza, put the high chair in the living room, and put on a movie that we both enjoy. Two of our three Pizza Parties have included guests. Which is nice.
When my parents were first dating, apparently, he created “theme” dates. They would go see an Italian movie, and then eat Italian food. French movie, French food. Sometimes they were really broke, and didn’t have enough for dinner AND a movie, so they might see a movie about Germany, and then drink a German beer.
I’ve written on this blog a bit about the fun that I used to have with my dad at animated movies as a little girl. In later years he had an extraordinarily large collection of movies on tape… first the Betas, then the VHS’s. Thousands and thousands of movies. Before that, he would bring projectors home from the college library, and set up a screen and movies in the living room. He loved almost everything. Odd, artsy, intellectual movies, of course. Movies with a political theme, of course. Animation and cartoons, as I’ve told you about earlier. Sci fi. Drama. Comedies. What he used to call B-movies. Hit movies. Old movies. Movies that everyone else hated.
He really loved movies.
And food.
One of my fondest memories of my dad was our “crab” ritual. We did it two or three times a year. He and I both love steamed crabs. He likes the bodies best. I like the legs and claws the best. So we made the perfect team. He ate the bodies. I ate the legs and claws.
So a few times a year my dad would buy two or three dozen crab, (yes, that is 23-36 crab!), depending on the size, and steam them in red peppers and beer. Then we would select a triple feature. Yes, three movies. Grouped thematically. The Alien trilogy was always a good bet, which we did at least once a year, as was the Godfather trilogy, which mom liked much more than Alien. Sometimes we grouped things according to theme, like a sacrilegious trilogy, consisting of Jesus Christ Superstar, The Last Temptation of Christ, and I don’t even know. Something else. Or a “retrospective of the decades of my parents’ lives” trilogy, consisting of Forrest Gump, This Time Next Year, and I don’t know… something else.
And then we would spread newspaper all over the coffee table, get out nutcrackers and bowls to put the shells in, open up a nice bottle of dark beer each, and sit and eat crab and drink beer and watch a triple feature. Literally for hours and hours and hours. Eating crab out of the shell is a lot of work, and it takes quite a while to get a lot of food. My mom would eat one or two crab, scold us if we got messy, and try and make us eat salad and vegetables of some sort along with the crab ritual. The whole event was not her thing. But she liked that it was something that my dad and I did together.
Last night Liana and I had our third “Pizza Party.” I ordered up pizza, put the high chair in the living room, and put on a movie that we both enjoy. Two of our three Pizza Parties have included guests. Which is nice.
But this is our first food/movie ritual.
I hope to create many rituals/traditions to share together. This is one of the first.
