Movie & Lunch, Bifurcated Edition

I KNOW that this blog tends to be photo-heavy, and especially so about things you couldn't possibly care about. This is largely because I insist on taking pictures of food, and, while they are not bad pictures of food, they are pictures nonetheless. And, in the words of Our Hero, William H. Joel Jr., you can't get the sound from a story in a magazine.

But this really is kind of special. I had to take this picture in res, in order to show that this sausage sandwich contains two different mustards, a gag that frequent readers will find not uncommon at all. But better than that:

Due to the recent purchase of a 12 pack of Saranac Trail Mix, I consumed said sandwich with a Black Forest followed by a Pale Ale, which combination proved to be downright magical. Especially in combination with the sandwich, which has so far given me waves of nostalgia, in a very odd way.

The sausage in this sandwich was the result of some vaguely ill-advised bargain shopping. An off-brand of kielbasa which we did not recognize, on sale for basically a dollar, the first application-- baked with sauerkraut and served alongside mashed potatoes with a little mustard for dipping-- proved distinctly odd, in a way I could not quite pinpoint.

After a courtesy nibble, the Wifey managed to approximate the oddness: "It tastes like bologna."

Which it does. It tastes distinctly like bologna. Not baloney, but bologna. In fact, a species of ring bologna that registers a tad low on the garlic scale, which is not necessarily a bad thing, so long as there is garlic present. And that approximation led to the supposition-- again, the Wifey's, all crediot where credit is due-- that the best application for this might be fried, in sandwich form, which is what we have here. On the lower laye* of the Kaiser roll is Grey Poupon, on top of which the sausage, on top of which a slice of white cheese, mainly as a binder, on top of which warmed kraut, and on top of that, my beloved Plochman's mustard. The nostalgia factor is that it reminded me, as I was eating it, of the supposedly kosher hot dog I used to get from the Cambodian guy who ran the lunch stand in the half-defunct mall where I used to work. Minus the beer and the cheese and half the mustard. It was uncanny in a way that I am loathe to even attempt to describe.

Anyways.

The movies of the day were not quite October Sky and The Hi-Lo Country, neither of which I can actually, creditably watch. October Sky because the sourcework is veritable, but the execution is specious. Homer Hickam, the subject of the flick, says that his Dad supported him alot more than the film suggests, and that the film plays up the union-anti-union folderol a fair amount, and on and on, but the film has a definite atmosphere which caputures post-war Appalachia is a very faithful and loving way, and all the performances are solid, especially from Chris Cooper, on of my favorite actors, and Jake Gyllenhall, who, for all I care, can rot in hell.

(Because he is a fine actor, but he tends to take fish-in-a-barrel roles. Donnie Darko? Fuggedaboudit. Who can't play an emotionally tortured adolescent? Besides Christopher Walken, I mean.)

The Hi-Lo Country I keep trying to watch, but it's just so mean spirited. The whole film seems predicated on the notion that betrayal is not only inevitable, but somehow honorable. I mean, I have respect for films that have a gray moral tone, but when Woody Harrelson is your choice to play your moral chorus, well, I think it's clear that you have serious issues with your choice of ethos.

(On the other hand, it has one of the few truly authentic Harrelson performances, so for that reason, it's nearly hypnotic, Harrelson being one of those actors whose performances I equally enjoy whether authentic or in. Alongside Christopher Walken.)

*Laye is a term I recently coined to mean "the slices of bread in the sandwich," so your standard sandwich would have a lower laye and an upper laye, where your club sandwich would have a lower, middle, and upper laye. Big whoop.