This blog is about two of my favorite F words: Film and Food. And just for fun I’m combining both of them in the same blog. Saxon and I will discuss a movie while making a new recipe. This is like one-stop shopping – you read a review on a new Indie movie and get a new recipe all at the same time.
Today’s movie is “Rubber” written and directed by Quentin Dupieux and the recipe is for “Mexican Apple Pie.”
I slap eight six-inch flour tortillas on the counter top while Saxon opens a can of apple pie filling.
“So what did you think of the movie Rubber?” I ask.
Saxon sticks her finger in the pie filling and licks it. “I can’t get it out of my head. I don’t know why, but it’s stuck in my head.”
I grab the can away from her before she contaminates the filling. I say, “I agree. I keep thinking it had a big message and if I just keep thinking about it, the message will become clear.”
Saxon says, “Not much to think about . It was about a tire. A rubber tire.”
“A rubber tire named Robert.” I spoon heaping blobs of apple pie filling down the center of each tortilla.
Saxon sticks out her finger for another taste, but I slap it away.
“Right,” Saxon says. “And Robert the Rubber Tire was in the desert and came alive.” She stirs half a cup of water, half a cup of brown sugar, half a cup of sugar and half a cup of melted butter into a large mixing bowl.
Emma enters the kitchen. She sticks her finger in the pie filling. She’s too quick for me to slap her hand. I continue, “Yeah, but before the tire came alive… it was like a movie inside a movie, right? There was a group of people in the middle of the desert with binoculars.”
Saxon nods as she stirs the goop in the mixing bowl. ” And they were watching this movie. Through the binoculars.”
I shake cinnamon all over the tortillas and pie filling. “They were watching a movie about a tire named Robert.”
“And we were watching a movie about these people watching the movie,” Saxon says.
“Don’t forget the part where Robert the Tire was sitting in the motel room watching a movie.” I roll the tortillas up like little burritos and place them in a casserole cooking dish.
Emma looks confused. She says, “So you guys watched a movie about people watching a movie about a tire watching a movie?”
“That’s correct. What does that mean you think?” I say.
“It means you’re crazy. That needs more cinnamon,” Emma says.
“No, it doesn’t.” I take the bowl away from Saxon and pour the goop all over the little burritos. “Now we let it sit for 45 minutes then we’ll pop it in the oven.”
45 minutes later:
I put the tortillas into a preheated 350 degree oven and keep an eye on it. “Okay,” I say, “we were talking about Robert the tire.”
Saxon picks up the thread, “So this Robert Tire comes to life and rolls through the desert blowing things up.”
“It has telekinetic powers or something. It can blow things up just by looking at them and quivering. It blows up a bottle,” I say.
“Don’t forget the bunny,” Saxon says.
“You covered your eyes during that part.”
“It was gross.”
“Not as gross as when it blew up the motel maid’s head.”
“That was funny,” Saxon said.
Emma interjects, “How could a woman’s head exploding be funny and the bunny be gross?”
Saxon shrugs. “Comic timing?”
I pull the brown, bubbling Mexican tortilla pies out of the oven. I dish them out onto three plates with two scoops of ice cream and hand the plates all around. After a few bites, I say, “And why did that one weird guy poison all the people watching the movie?”
“Except for the Veteran in the wheelchair. The Vet didn’t get poisoned,” Saxon says.
I point my fork at her for emphasis and say, “Robert got him in the end, though.”
“I actually liked the movie,” Saxon says with a full mouth.
I take another bite and consider. I swallow and say, “I admit I watched the whole thing. And I’m still thinking about it.”
“What was the moral?” Saxon asks.
“Like the narrator/cop said at the beginning: There is no point. Some things happen for no reason.”
“So we just watched a movie about a rubber tire named Robert rolling through the desert randomly killing animals and people for no reason.”
I shrug. “Pretty much.”
Emma says, “Cool.”
“Maybe it was a spoof on all the slasher movies and horror films,” Saxon says.
“Maybe it was satiric commentary on life’s unpredictableness,” I add.
Saxon scoops the last bite into her mouth. “Maybe it has no point. ”
“And that was the point.”
“Precisely,” she says.
“Did you all like the pie?”
Emma nods and licks her plate.
Saxon says, “It’s fabulous.”
“So are you,” I say with a wink. I’m feeling the beginnings of a sugar high.
Saxon says, “You’re just saying that to get in my pants.”
“Your pants would be too short on me.”
Emma makes a disgusted noise and says, “You guys are disturbing. I’m leaving now.”
Stay tuned for the next installment of The F Word: “Layce and Saxon discuss Butter and eat butter.”
Coming soon: “Seven Psychopaths make chili.”
A Romantic comedy starring Calamity Jane