Talk about power, baby.  Nathan Fillion makes one semi-serious quip and almost overnight a movement is born, galvanized by the yearning of fans everywhere to once again see Serenity take to the skies.  Of course I’m talking about Firefly – the much loved but short-lived series that ran on Fox in the early 2000s and was then cancelled in its prime.  And I’m also referring to Fillion’s remark in an EW interview last week that “If I got $300 million from the California Lottery, the first thing I would do is buy the rights to Firefly, make it on my own, and distribute it on the Internet.”

Unlike other beloved series which never get a last gasp Firefly had enough fans to convince powers that be to create a movie which gave more of a finality to the series and the fans less heartbreak.  Still, there’s something about this little show that just gets under your skin.  Personally,  in our home, renting the DVDs was a hard sell at first for my husband, who knows I am not particularly fond of cowboy tales or space shows (some parts of the Star Trek franchise notwithstanding).  I will finally admit here that I routinely and consistently refer to Battle Star Galactica as “Schmactica” and watched the whole series peripherally while playing Plants vs. Zombies thus I didn’t even notice that the whole entire series was over.  ”Do we have any episodes left?”  I’d ask my husband.  ”No,  they (plot point I can’t divulge because it would be a spoiler), remember?”  he’d say and I’d shrug.  ”Oh, yeah.”  I still don’t know what all the fuss was about.  But that’s another topic entirely.

So anything about space cowboys was bound to be a double whammy of YAWN.  Or so I thought.   Yet somehow something – maybe Fillion’s special brand of zing, maybe creator Joss Whedon’s special brand of zip, maybe Morena Baccarin’s special brand of pow – SOMETHING stole my heart in episode one and I was hooked right along with all the other fans.  Another small aside:  one of those fans includes Julie Powell (the “Julie” of Julie & Julia). I found this out when I attended a reading of her following book, Cleaving, and she showed up wearing a BrownCoats tee shirt.

So, the actual story that precedes this “Nathan might be buying Firefly” story is that the Science Channel has acquired the rights to the show and will be airing it in its entirety beginning on March 6 at 8 p.m., with the two hour pilot, followed by the first episode at 10 p.m.

After that you can catch Firefly every Sunday night till it’s over.  In the meantime, check out some of the great grass-roots efforts that have been springing up; if you really believe in this show join the Facebook page (like I have) and see exactly what’s been buzzing.  Now listen – I don’t want you to think that I believe for a minute that Nathan Fillion has the resources (even if he got 300 million dollars) to actually do this.  But what this does show is that fan support for Firefly is still very strong – and when decision makers see that there’s a potential market for a product . . . well . . . it’s a lot easier to create the product.   So – don’t really think of this as helping Nathan, think of this as casting a vote.  After all, this is America.

Help Nathan Buy Firefly – Website Page and Facebook Page.

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Karen Tortora-Lee and Stephen Tortora-Lee would like to announce the marriage of their Netflix Account to their Wii Console.

The bride wore a dazzling red Netflix wrapper; the groom stood wordlessly next to my TV anxiously awaiting her arrival.  From the moment they locked codes it was a divine union.

It’s only been a few weeks, but ever since Netflix gave yet another option to view their catalog instantly I have been virtually glued to my Wii (which is embarrassing, since I bought it months ago specifically for the Wii Fit, enthusiastically boxed a few rounds with a cute little animated guy the first day, threw my shoulder out of whack, and never turned it on again).

But the funniest thing is, Stephen and I are watching more Television now than we did before.  And by Television I mean actual TV Shows.  The bulk of our instant Queue is comprised of shows like The Office, Dexter, Dead Like Me, Columbo, Torchwood, Rescue Me, and Doctor Who – a mishmash of current network TV, cable shows current and completed, BBC shows, and 1970s specials.  There’s something alluring about watching a TV show on your TV – all the while knowing it’s not actual TV that you could get any other way than by creating it with your own magic Wii wand.

But wait!  There’s more!  Since I don’t have cable, shows that have eluded me are now at my finger tips for the watching.  And I can be as fickle as I want with them.  For instance – I couldn’t help but tune into a few “Jon And Kate Plus Eight”s to see if you really could see that train wreck coming way back from Season One. (You could).  But after 3 random episodes from 3 random seasons (something about pumpkin picking, something about a mega garage sale, something about going through a haystack maze) I was done.

I spent one Saturday afternoon watching all the LA Inks I could tolerate – which turned out to be too embarrassingly high a count to admit to here.   Suffice it to say, I had to work backwards and watch a few Miami Inks in order to wean myself off of the whole tattoo culture.  I later stenciled a picture onto my forearm with a sharpie just to see how it felt.

I feel like I’ve just discovered TV for the first time.  And coming from a TV junkie like me – -  that’s saying a lot.  Well done, Netflix and Wii.  May your marriage be a long one.  And may I be guilted into using my Wii Fit to work off all those Colombo episodes that are going straight to my couch potato butt.

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The Happiest Medium would like to wish all the Moms, all the children of moms, and all the fans of TV Moms a happy day today.

Feeling Nostalgic for Carol Brady, or even Peg Bundy?  Then check this out:

June Cleaver, Claire Huxtable, Peg Bundy and Carol Brady

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I’m not big on the real world.  But The Real World–well, that’s a different story.  I don’t have cable.  I don’t even have a TV.  It is therefore impossible to use innocent channel-surfing as an excuse to pause on a program of eight strangers living in a mansion having their lives taped.  No.  The steps I take to satisfy my addiction are numerous.  I turn on my computer.  I type in MTV.com and press enter.  I click on The Real World, I click on the next episode, I wait for it to load.  Occasionally, when the wireless signal in my apartment wanes, I extract myself from the comfort and comforters of my bed, go into the hallway, unplug the router, count to ten like Netgear told me, and plug the router back in.  Cancun, D.C., Brooklyn.  I satisfy my addiction come hell or no signal.  And I’m starting to have an idea why.

The Real World is like the real world in that its participants are 20-somethings often seen in their pajamas during midday, lounging around, starting fights with each other, having sex with each other, and, in the increments between these diversions, occasionally wondering what they hell they should be doing with their lives on a larger scale.  The Real World is like the real world in that there is little to no guidance or instruction.  They aren’t marooned on an island with bankers and yoga instructors, taking part in a series of orchestrated survival challenges–constructing hovels, eating bugs–after which they are assessed and evaluated.  If the participants in The Real World do something with their time in a new city, they do something.  If they don’t, they don’t.  The producers don’t seem to care either way, so long as the eight strangers get sufficiently drunk or depressed, manic or hysterical to conjure footage that could be spliced into a good show.  And after the season has been shot, the producers, with the privilege of knowing how things started and how things ended, pull out the themes which then shape the stories of the episodes and the larger stories of the season–this misanthrope who’d never had a girlfriend, found love; that right-wing born-again found a best friend in a gay guy; this dancer shifts her interest toward social activism.  The Real World isn’t the real world because the stories have been extracted from raw footage, while in the real world, it is up to the artist to do this.

The Real World is not, in any sense, high art.  However, The Real World does demonstrate a certain process that can at times lead to high art.  Every writer, artist, filmmaker, musician, etc. lived in the real world.  They went about their lives, getting drunk and depressed and manic and hysterical in private.  They observed the world on their own, without instruction, and tried to figure out how they fit into it.  Their lives accrued the raw material from which they found images, ideas, sounds and language.  From this accrued experience, they shaped themes.  From these themes, they wrote stories, composed sonatas, painted paintings.  From the messy, boring, unscripted raw material of life, they spliced something together that, even though it was artifice, expressed something more true about the real world than the real world could tell about itself.

The Real World is interesting from a writer’s perspective, as it seems to recreate a stage of the creative process when he/she reads over fragments scrawled on napkins and starts arranging them in elaborate messy structures and slack story lines, attempting to organize them, attempting splice together these vestiges human experience into some kind of more perfect and taut story line about human experience.  The Real World is far from perfect; the real world is far from perfect.  Luckily, sometimes tension accrues that can’t be cut with a serrated knife, and that seems to, somehow, keep us going.

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Cable’s “Nip/Tuck” ended Wednesday night with its 100th episode, which was filmed in Los Angeles last June.  After a 7 year successful run filled with shocking revelations, sex, drugs, and surgery-it was a well put together episode and a finale that did not disappoint.

As a devoted follower, who originally identified with the son character of Matt (who was the same age as me when the show began), I grew attached to it like an addiction. Every Thursday, and then Tuesday, and finally Wednesday became my night for my show.  A show that soon grew into an overnight phenomenon and blew itself out of the water with outrageous plot lines, and ridiculous characters. But, it was all great. I went through high school and teenage hood with Matt, and grew up into an adult-and the show never lost my interest. It became so absurd, and unbelievable but I still always felt close to the characters of Dr. Christian Troy (Julian McMahon), Dr. Sean McNamara (Dylan Walsh), Julia McNamara (Joley Richardson), and Kimber Henry (Kelly Carlson). That was the beauty of this show, which was the original idea of its mastermind creator- Ryan Murphy (aka Glee creator and producer). To take these characters and test them with subplots like murder, suicide, almost death, flashbacks, childhood trauma, insane life coaches, a knife welding “carver”, prison, Scientology, drug use, and everything in between… was always a test. Always a way to go about discussing REAL issues that we deal with daily, or within our families-and blowing it up to a huge over-the-top scenario to get our attention. To serve a point-and let it be heard.

Those of you familiar with the show, and who followed it all these years know that last night’s finale was something ‘unlike’ Nip/Tuck. It had no jaw dropping sequences, nor fairy tale endings, but it served satisfying, and several of our good guys got what they earned, and our wonderful resident bad guy – he did wind up changing in the end too-in the way he needed to. This was a great show, and I will miss weekly gatherings to discuss the absurd series that won over my heart.

If you were not a watcher, I suggest hopping onto iTunes and starting with Season 1, you won’t regret it.

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More Retro Cards @ Fenderskirts Vintage

Before heading off for a long winter’s nap, I thought it would only be fitting to send you into the holidays with visions of sugarplums and such. So, here is my Christmas wish for you all, and if you don’t celebrate Christmas, here’s hoping the Internet waves simultaneously translate my wishes and retrofit them to the holiday of your choice, whatever your faith or creed.  Whatever holiday language you speak: May these days be merry and bright.  And if it’s a little bit of fun you’re wanting, keep reading for some ideas on holiday Theatre, Film, TV, Books, Art and Music.  You may find a few surprises …

THEATRE

The White Christmas Cast Dancing Up A (Snow) Storm

There’s always the show that tourists flock to year after year, the one that made Radio Street into Radio City (well … maybe not) … the one that takes a dazzling line of chorus gals, snaps some antlers on their heads, shoots them with a cannon, then makes them do a tap routine 50 times before the season is up.  Yes, I’m talking about the Radio City Christmas Spectacular which I reviewed right around this time last year, with about the same amount of cheekiness.  However, truth is, I actually do get a bit of a lump in my throat every time I go, so if schmaltz is your thing, this is the way to go.

Speaking of schmaltz, what could be more Christmassy than a song written by Mr. Irving Berlin, Jewish composer extraordinaire and the man who brought us White Christmas?  If it’s a schmaltzy time you want, it’s a schmaltzy time you’ll get at White Christmas running now until January 3rd.

If that’s not Jewish enough for you, why not check out The Klezmer Nutcracker … “Sara is miserable at the family Chanukah party. But when mysterious Tante Miriam arrives with the gift of a Golden Dreydl, everything changes.” Sounds good to me!

But maybe all this sounds a little too traditional for a jaded New Yorker like you?  Well, then check out Christine Pedi’s Holly Jolly Christmas Folly playing for 9 performances at the Laurie Beechman Theatre.  You can catch her during those down days between the bookend holidays (Saturday December 26 through Wednesday December 30) as she sings “yuletide hits with a twist”.

But what if tradition is your bag?  Then by all means, check out the old Dickens classic A Christmas Carol being done at the 13th Street Repertory Company till January 10th.  Plenty of time to go get your Scrooge on.

FILM

I am not even going to act like I don’t have a bias here.   Yes, there’s It’s a Wonderful Life.  Yawn.  Zuzu’s petals … I get it.  We ALL get it.  And we’ve all been getting it for mumble mumble years. And Miracle on 34th Street?  Yes, yes.   Lovely.  Santa, mailbags … darling Natalie Wood as a child.  Meet Me In St. Louis?  Well … it’s just got the one song, really.  And even my absolute favorite, A Christmas Story, is starting to wear on me a bit.  (JUST A BIT!).  So, for your consideration, I submit some newer thoughts on the subject (no … not The Santa Clause … don’t worry) that actually get me most in the holiday mood:

I came late to Elf.  I didn’t see it in the movie theatre where (I suspect) I would have had the best time with it.  Instead, I stumbled upon it one Saturday afternoon and within minutes fell in love.  It’s not like I’m the biggest Will Farrell fan … but director  Jon Favreau just did everything right to put me in a true Christmas mood. Plus, Zooey Deschanel singing Baby It’s Cold Outside in the shower while Farrell wistfully sings along is as heartwarming a scene as Jimmy Stewart hugging his family.  With terrific candy coated nuggets like Edward Asner as Santa and some of the funniest lines you’ll hear in a Christmas movie, I vote that this become the new go-to holiday flick.

Not every Christmas movie has to have Christmas in the whole thing, by the way … which is why my other nomination is Edward Scissorhands. Check out the scene below to see why sharp knives, gothy black hair and ice sculptures will always mean “Christmas” to me.

TV

Of all the media which has evolved through the years, I’m happiest with how TV has grown.  (Good job, TV!)  I love that I started watching LOST on iTunes, then switched to watching it on ABC.com.  I have Netflixed entire shows from first to last episode, never having seen one single moment of it on conventional TV.  And thanks to hulu.com you can get your fix of holiday episodes RIGHT NOW if you’re near a computer of any type (and if you’re reading this, you probably are).  Say you’d like your Charlie Brown dose (either I Want A Dog For Christmas, Charlie Brown or the classic Charlie Brown Christmas).  Done!  Maybe you’re sitting there staring at the Secret Santa present you received and you’d like to see what TV has to say about that … then check in with the crew of The Office or 30 Rock to see their take on it.  In a Seth MacFarlane mood?  (I know I am!)  Then you’ll want to watch American Dad’s Most Adequate Christmas Ever or A Cleveland Brown Christmas.  And if none of that appeals to you, try the non-traditionally titled A Very Gilly Christmas from SNL or The Goop On The Girl from Bones.  Put your feet up, grab a cup of cocoa (extra marshmallows … tis the season!), and settle in for some good ole TV viewing.

BOOKS

The great thing about a book is that it can help you express your inner snark privately.  To others (on the subway, let’s say, or that long flight home) you just look like you’re reading a normal book, but what you’re really doing is inwardly chuckling your way through Holidays on Ice by David Sedaris – a collection of essays all based on Christmas.  The 1997 version contains The SantaLand Diaries which details Sedaris’ time spent as a Macy’s elf,

Season’s Greetings to Our Friends and Family!!! which, I swear, was not that far off from some of those way-too-chatty holiday newsletters I’ve received in Christmas Cards Past, Dinah, the Christmas Whore (just what it sounds like), Front Row Center with Thaddeus Bristol – grade school pageant at its best, and rounding off with Based on a True Story and Christmas Means Giving.  If you spring for the new version you get six additional stories, or opt for the audio version and here every nuanced word come right out of David Sedaris’ mouth (follow this link for a hilarious snippet).  You may also want to pick up a copy of “The SantaLand Diaries & Seasons Greetings: 2 Plays” so that you can act it all out with your friends who’ve come home for the winter break.

ART

Not everything is about Santa or his Elves.   Did you know that there is a nasty little critter known as a Krampus who is said to accompany good ole St. Nick … punishing the children who have been bad, like a Christmas good cop/bad cop scenario?   Actually, he does more than punish them, he carries them away and then throws them into the fiery pits of hell.  THAT should teach you to be naughty!

Some Krampus fellows appear to be a little less brutal, like this chap below, rendered by artist Travis Louie.  For some more amiable Krampuses (Krampii?) check out his website.

Hypno Krampus - one of many Krampus Monsters who will getcha

MUSIC

I could try and do what this guy has already done, but frankly I could never do it as thoroughly, with as much charm, as much joy, and as much panache as The King of Jing-a-ling who put together a site called Falalalala.com that has totally cool links to every type of Christmas album you can imagine and then  some … not to mention links to other fun things like Antique Christmas Lights, The Yule Log and topics I didn’t cover here because he did a much better job than I ever could.  So if you want a one-stop-shopping Christmas site, you’ll be happy you checked it out.

and finally …

LIGHTS, CAMERA … SANTA!

This Brooklyn tradition of covering every square inch of your home in lights is a bombardment of every type of media, so I’m giving it it’s own category … as well as  sending it to you as my final thought.  Having grown up in Brooklyn this sight is nothing new to me, however every year that I take a drive over to Bensonhurst and Dyker Heights (as I did earlier this month) I never cease to delight in the glow of lights, the smiles on the people’s faces as they see the giant displays, and the wonderfully festive mood it puts me in.  If you’re up for a drive, get yourself here:

View Larger Map

Ho Ho Ho and Happiest Holidays from Everyone at

The Happiest Medium!

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Every Fall the networks begin their usual marketing announcements of “Best New Show This Season” and “Most Exciting Drama.” As audiences, we have grown accustomed to tuning it out. They say it every year about every show. One would think that after over 50 years of television the marketing professionals would finally figure out new creative strategies. This season was no different and with large campaigns from Glee, Mercy, Flash Forward and yes, even Cougar Town–it’s come to be that really, there is a best new show of the season and it’s NBC’s Trauma.

Don’t get me wrong, Glee certainly has actually given every network show a good run for its money with its upbeat sing-a-longs and downright hilarious social commentaries but when it comes down to it, the best is usually a tad underrated at first. Like House, MD was six years ago.

Trauma follows the lives of six paramedics in San Francisco and the drama that comes along with it. The first few episodes were a bit shaky, focusing mainly on the formulas given to most medical-related dramas: Accident, blood, doctors, surgery, saving the day–with a dash of  sexual tension thrown in for good measure. But a few short weeks later and the show has begun to map out its path in the world of prime-time television.

The shows two notables are hands down Anastasia Griffith and Cliff Curtis.  Griffith who plays the show’s protagonist Nancy Carnahan–an ex MD who after an as-yet-undiscussed event became a paramedic and whose boyfriend dies in a helicopter crash in the pilot–carries most of the show with her banter and tough-girl demeanor that is both believable and pitiable. You feel for her, her losses–and recognize that this chick has more gall than most men in Manhattan. Curtis plays Rabbit, an “Angel Rescue” paramedic whose blatant disregard for rules and sultry seduction skills make him the would-be child of Don Draper and Gregory House. The New Zealand native owns every scene and has an interesting chemistry with Griffith on screen that keeps you wanting more.

Most medical and crime dramas tend to follow the ‘introduce problem–solve problem’ formula each episode. This is a bit frustrating as we, the audience, are aware that whatever side characters come in will simply be healed and set on their merry ways with the 2 episodes maximum a year where the writers feel diabolical and actually kill someone. Trauma’s writers, though, seem to be interested in telling good stories at the forefront. Two episodes already within the six episodes that have aired have been beautifully written and uniquely moving. “Bad Day at Work” is surprisingly dark and frightening–it tells the story of a disgruntled ex-employee who shoots up an entire office building. The writing does not allow for a g-rated portrayal of the event. You see people hiding under their desks, where the killer looks at them slowly, and then shoots then point blank.  There also was no foreshadowing, we as the audience were caught just as unawares as the characters. To bring it back to the main characters, one’s wife is stuck in the building and the man cowering next to her is shot, she is missed by centimeters. Also, in an attempt to save the wounded–Nancy and Rabbit put their lives in serious jeopardy.

A second great episode puts Nancy and her partner in a severe car accident, where their co-workers are forced to make the moral decision whether to save their friends or the rest of the 20 plus people  injured in the wreckage.

The show is still young but it has plenty of room to grow and I am certain that it will.  Each episode is an exciting thrill-ride complete with blood, guts, gross injuries and crazy scenarios.

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I like to think I’m pretty up on things when it comes to pop-culture. Armed just with a subscription to Entertainment Weekly and a healthy curiosity about all things Hollywood I’ve been able to fake my way through DOZENS of conversations through the years.

I once had an 8 year old’s mother (who brought her child to work on “Bring Your Child to Work Day” and then promptly parked her at my desk for the next 8 hours and asked me watch her) who was convinced that I knew all the Pokemon by heart. I did not.

I knew how to say Pikachu using one of the variants that Pikachu uses some times “Pika-pika … CHOOOOOO” and I just happen to remember (in detail) one episode I saw when I was home sick. Armed with the names of merely three Pokemon I was able to converse with this child all afternoon. Because, really, all a child wants is to babble about their favorite thing in the hopes that you know all about it too.

So I nodded enthusiastically and when asked “Who’s your favorite Pokemon?” I simply replied “Beside Pikachu? Well … that’s hard, but I’d have to say … Charmander … or maybe Jigglypuff.” She nodded seriously and said “Yeah, they’re good … but I like … ” and then she named some little critter with a crazy name and I said “Oh! I forgot all about that one!” and so a friendship was born.

I do the same thing with other shows too. I’ve never seen one episode of The Office (not that I’m avoiding it … I think I must be busy that night or something …) but I know stats about it that I could report on for days. I know story lines, actors … the name of the company they work for … all because I pay attention to all the pop culture channels that criss-cross this great state of ours. So mired in pop culture am I that my dream is to be not Faulkner or Beckett but Cody. Diablo Cody. EW column, Oscar and all. (Well, not ALL … I’m a bit over the hill to pull off the stripping thing …)

So imagine my surprise when Stephen starts netflixing Doctor Who and I reply … Doctor Who? Imagine how even more startled I was to find out that EVERYONE I mention this to says “Oh!!! I LOVE Doctor Who!” ??? WHO?

Imagine my even bigger surprise when I Google “Dr. Who” and came upon a treasure trove of information that would rival the sites devoted to LOST, Babylon 5, Star Trek AND Star Wars … COMBINED! I felt like Truman … from The Truman Show … the Doctor-Who-less world I’d lived in for the past (mumble) years was a FAKE UNIVERSE because Doctor Who is some sort of God that I am only finding out about now. It’s like not knowing Mr. Rogers. Actually, it’s worse. Because apparently Doctor Who is very, very, very cool (and Mr. Rogers is only very, very, very cool when you’re still counting your age in months.) Cool enough to warrant his very own “The Weakest Link” episode!

So now I’ve spent the last few weeks watching (or rather, falling asleep to) the early Doctor Who episodes while Stephen watches, enthralled. I’ve stayed awake just long enough to eye roll my way through the bad over-acting in the pilot episode, the horrible “special” effects, and the long, long, long, long exposition scenes. People tell me the show gets better … I’m sure it does. Nothing that sustainable can be that bad. And because Stephen is such a devoted fan I’m sure I’ll see that arc happen right before my sleepy eyes, since he’s put every Doctor Who available to man in his netflix queue. He even, for my benefit, broke chronology and got “The Five Doctors” so I could get a sense of the marvelous, amazing Doctors to come. Well, I did manage to stay awake for that one … sorta. And I do see how it could be charmingly kitschy, hysterically campy and just good ole fashioned fun. But it turns out that my favorite part of this whole phenomenon came from the bonus materials.

For some reason, while I’m not yet aware of all the inside jokes, I could watch this first clip over and over again. It simply gets funnier and funnier every time I watch it …

… and this clip has become my favorite simply because at least they’re aware of how campy the whole thing is. And therefore NOW I LOVE THEM.

Meet you in the TARDIS … Doc-TOR!

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mmm-mmm!

Boy oh boy … how I love a good sandwich. I know they’re the worst things for you. I know they’re full of bleached flour, processed meats, gloppy condiments, fats, salt and nitrates. I know that. What’s your point? You are what you eat so I am a big ole sandwich. When I die you can wrap me in some wax paper, bury me in one of those little deli containers and put me on that great conveyor belt to the sky.

Stephen likes them too, but he is the King of the Dagwood Sandwich. Early on in our relationship I’d asked him what ingredients would he combine to make his favorite burger. By way of example, I created mine for him: English Muffin bun, a big juicy burger seasoned with basil, slathered in Hellman’s Mayonnaise and Frank’s Red Hot Sauce … some sauteed onions and thick cut apple smoked bacon on the top. Yum.

He responded by building his for me: bottom bun, mayonnaise, avocado and onions, honey mustard, all beef patty, cheddar cheese, ranch dressing, Doritos, sauteed lettuce and cabbage with garlic, 2nd all beef patty, Swiss cheese, ketchup, more mayonnaise, slice of lettuce and top bun.

Of course I’ve watch him eat things that make the above look tame. I’ve learned not to ask what he’s jamming between two overtaxed slices of bread. If it crunches I just assume it’s the Doritos. Or pretzel sticks. Or peanuts. Or saltines. Or granola. Or sunflower seeds. Or wasbi peas. One time it was trail mix.

A few years ago I caught a great documentary on PBS called Sandwiches That You Will Like (which is a little like calling your clothing line Dresses That You Will Wear). It does a great job of traveling across America and showing how the definition of a sandwich changes with the landscape. I love hearing people, full of conviction, talking about their city’s sandwich and why it’s the best, not like any other Blah and Blah Sandwiches from any other place in the whole US of A! It reminded me of the time my friend’s cousin came back from Italy praising the corner markets and the plethora of prosciutto and provolone sandwiches. “It’s so common … like getting a ham and cheese in America”. We laughed our butts off at that. Um, maybe because prosciutto and provolone IS ham and cheese.

Anyway, I love this show — I’ve seen it twice and I’m thinking of buying the DVD (or accepting it as a Christmas present). What makes the show so special is not that it’s a program about food … though that’s part of it. No, what makes it great is that it’s a program about people and their relationship to food; it’s about tradition, habits, customs, comfort. It’s about folks reveling in the fact that in their little corner of the world, this is how it’s done:

This is the kind of program that makes you want to grab your map, get in the car, and just drive across America seeking these places out. Luckily, I actually have been to a few of these fine establishments and when time allows, I intend to visit a few more. For now, here are the 3 I sampled:

Living in New York you can’t escape the siren song of a good Pastrami Sandwich. And what better place to get one than at Katz’s Delicatessen … a New York tradition for over a hundred years. Stephen and I just went there recently and almost died (happily) of a meat overdose. He got the Corned Beef Sandwich and I got the pastrami … between the 2 of us I think we were able to eat 2/5th … we had to take the rest home. And we both kept on eating corned beef, pastrami and rye bread for another two days! I repeat … You are what you eat!

I’ve also been lucky enough to sample authentic Philly Cheese Steak Sandwiches when a friend of mine took me back to her home town. It was really cold the weekend we were there, and we spent a long time shivering on line waiting to order our sandwiches, staring across the street at the OTHER long line of people waiting to get THEIR sandwiches. The first day we went to Geno’s, the second day to Pat’s. I liked one better than the other but can’t remember which … so I guess when I go back I’ll have to do another taste test. I’ll have to go again with a local, because even though there were big signs everywhere explaining how to order, I still made my friend order for me because I was too intimidated. Yes … I. Was. Too. Intimidated. Huh.

When another friend and I were kicking around in New Orleans, I was thrilled when we stumbled upon Central Grocery …

… which I knew all about from the program. We immediately went in and purchased the most wonderful Muffuletta Sandwich I’d every had. (Truth be told, I’d only had one once before at some wannabe New Orleans bar in Manhattan where the drinks are watered down, the food is tasteless and badly fried and the Muffuletta Sandwich is lousy). But here was the real thing! We couldn’t wait to dig in! We shared one … it was that big … and even had leftovers for later. Next to the drinking-all-day-and-night-in-the-street thing and the super hot jazz and the man who tried to take my friend and me home with him to “let nature take its course” (an offer we refused, but a story we gleefully repeated), this Muffuletta Sandwich was the best part of our trip.

So, hopefully, Stephen and I will get around to Kentucky one day in order to sample a Hot Brown Sandwich … and then maybe we’ll take another trip to Maine and get a Lobster Roll from Red’s Eats. Heck, I’d even try and get to Domilise‘s for a fried oyster Po’Boy. (Hey, did you even WATCH the clip up there?) But I can tell you right now … as far as the Fried Brain Sandwich goes … I’ll let Stephen tackle that one alone.

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