Formulaics

BEHOLD, the plowman's lunch.



This is, of course, something for which there are many variations, and I have even heard it said (and seen it written) that a true plowman's lunch consists purely of cold mutton and boiled vegetables served with crusty bread. But to hell with that. I think any combination of bread and cheese is the foundation for a good plowman's lunch, and then you can add anything you like. Here, the cheeses-- yeah, that's right, two different cheeses! Color me bold!-- are a gogonzola and a milder soft-cured fontal. The combination is completely fortuitous-- this is what my Dad gave me this past weekend as a belated birthday present-- but it works splendidly. The fontal in this case functions as something of a palate cleanser, in that it helps tone down the lingering taste of the gorgonzola. I mean, I do love gorgonzola, but WOOF! It lingers.



The bread is a take-and-bake from the local grocery chain, which is to say that it is freshly baked insofar as such a thing applies. It is not Fresh Baked Bread. I am not a fool. But it certainly works in this capacity. The sausage, also courtesy of my Dad, is a Genova salami, which provided me with what I have decided to start calling a DOH!ment. This sausage was packed in an inedible casing. So all those smartly cut little discs will have to be peeled individually. Always test the casing before slicing the sausage. The olives, also from the local grocery chain, is a medly of kalmata, prune and green olives (which I call Greeks, simply because that is one place I know they come from, and to distinguish them from the Spanish olives that everyone knows as "green olives), and if you are under the impression that olives only come in two varieties, black and green, well . . . That's fine, I suppose. Nothing wrong with that.



The beer, also a birthyday gift, this time from my brother, is Rogue Yellow Snow IPA, whic also reinforced a previous lesson. Know your brewer. The beer itself is a pure delight (to me), a bitter brew packed to the shoulders with hops, absolutely delicious. But I made a brief mistake in the serving; the big bottle provides two generous glassfuls of beer, and I made the mistake of pouring the second one in two installments, with the result that I infused it with a healthy portion of sediment. The fine folks at Rogue breweries seem to believe that a handmade-style beer ought to have a generousl supply of sediment. Which is fine. I could have done better in the pouring, but it's not the end of the world.


The film of the day has been Nanking. I cannot recommend it. While on the one hand it is very good history, on the other, it's a partially left-handed approach. About 90% of the film is straight documentary, but that latter 10% is what I could only call "characterization," with a handful of very good actors portraying figures from the time, reading from their diary entries. Which is fine, but kind of off-putting at times. And Mark Valley plays someone called The Stagemanager, who juts in on occasion to set the narrative scene. And if all of that doesn't give you pause, keep in mind that this is a film about the Rape of Nanking. Not the most pleasant subject. And while on the one hand I think that it is important to know your history, here's what you most need to know about the Rape of Nanking: 1937, Japanese invasion, six weeks of serial atrocities commited against the citizens of Nanking including summary execution, mass murder, rape, vivisection, etcetera. Ninety minutes is not long enough to catalogue the attrocities, but it is far too long for most people, I am guessing, to be confronted with them.

In a way, the film and the Rogue Yellow Snow IPA are alike: I could caution you against overpouring, but it's entirely unlikely to expect the average person would want to partake of such a thing to begin with.