CarrollBlog

I remember the pastrami sandwiches at Stan's luncheonette in New Brunswick, New Jersey. And the grilled chicken from the dumpy roadside stand in Brittany eaten while sitting on top of that old Nazi bunker; the chili cheese hotdogs at Pink's in LA, or the fat bag of cherries we shared while sitting beside the Danube on a hot May day 23 years ago. The elegant meals at snooty restaurants I remember only as events in themselves-- remember the time we ate at-- Yes, I remember the event. But the food itself? Nothing. The food I remember in careful, loving detail were meals like the big sandwiches Stan served. Nothing more than pastrami on rye with coleslaw and Russian dressing. Or fresh cherries.
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"I believe that perfection is even dangerous in a work of art. If a film is perfect, the public has nothing to add. The audience should always be trying to finish a picture... fill in the holes which we didn't fill."

Jean Renoir