Trad Farfalle Westerns

Cue the Ennio Morricone sountrack, slam down a shot of Mezcal and fire up a Parodi with the strike of a sulfur-tip match. Through June 21st, the West Village Film Forum at 209 W Houston is running a Spaghetti Western Festival. Film director, Alex Cox (Repo Man, Sid & Nancy & his own Spaghetti Western, Straight to Hell) reviews lesser known titles running here.

Franco Nero in director Sergio Corbucci's, Django (1966)

The Old Man loved Spaghetti Westerns and I remember being heart broken when he told me real guns didn't sound at all like the 'Spee-Teez' Italian sound effect. Isn't that the point? Nothing is real in a Spaghetti Western. Not even Clint Eastwood. Check out, 'Mrs Eastwood and Company' if you don't believe me.

Film Forum from The Brooklyneer

I caught the 1PM showing of 'Fistful of Dollars' today but not before grabbing a Kimshi hot dog ($6) and a beer ($1 special with the dog) at The Brooklyneer just across the street. Beat the hell out of a flat Coke and popcorn. Cheaper too.

Lee Van Cleef in The Big Gundown directed by Sergio Sollima (1966)

I took a film class at the most progressive of my four high schools. "Film & the Liberal Arts" was taught by a bearded hipster named Bridgman. I liked him a lot. I'll always owe him for turning me onto the very odd and dark, "The Traveling Executioner" with Stacy Keach.

Franco Nero & Tony Musante in The Mercenary by Sergio Corbucci (1968)

Maybe that's where I get my odd taste in film? Anyway, I wrote a paper on Spaghetti Westerns for the class. He didn't think much of them and thought even less of Clint. I didn't think much of his favorite, "The Seventh Seal." But, the Italian Western will always share a place in my heart with my father.

Tony Villeri's, The Price of Power with Giuliano Gemma - Italian Trailer here

The sound effects of a gun shot or a punch. A popped cork of a straw covered bottle. The thin dime ring of a spur. Stubby fingers with bitten dirty nails wrapped around a pistol grip. That lone whistle over taken by Morriconne's horns, choir and drums as they swell to a moment...

Dad sits next to me in a theater. Neither of us saying a word. And for a couple hours -- We're getting along -- just fine.

700 For Dinner - Les Halles

Hip is defined by 20-somethings taking up space in a hotel bar where no one can afford to drink much less stay. Usually in a part of NYC no one wants to be. Above the din I catch snippets of conversation like trout..."Dude, what's with the Red Wings and flannel shirt? Lumberjack is so dead." "But it's Mark McNairy?!" "Last year. He's moved onto 8th grade metal shop teacher." "Damn! No one told me."

A few blocks east on Park Avenue South (bet. 28th & 29th) Les Halles is a throw back to another time where patrons are defined by gray hair, reading glasses and safe driver insurance rates. Les Halles is one of those restaurants where all stress and angst slide off your back like a creme caramel. Is it the best food in NYC? No. But as I look around I'm struck by who is here. And they are me.

I ask about the 50 wines for 50% off on 50 Mondays and I'm told Valentine's Day ain't one of those Mondays. Just as well. They have 700 reservations for tonight. And that's okay. I'll be far away. But I do have plans to go next Monday when Les Halles turns back into what I love. An old friend.

Lunch with Aaron Levine of Jack Spade

Eisenberg's Sandwich Shop, 174 5th Ave., @ E. 23rd St.

Trad Time Group 0702-2011- 1343 Local

2 x Diet Cream Sodas
1 x Lime Ricky
Split Pea Soup
Turkey Club
Pastrami Reuben
$28.85

Funny. Genuine. Humble. Admired by peers and can arch a mean eyebrow. Interview tape being transcribed by magazine.

Cheap Slurps

It's been what I like to call, Chicago Cold, in NYC the last few days. That kinda cold where the wind hits your face and gives you a Slurpee Brain Freeze so painful you wonder what the hell you're doing outside. Days like these were made for Men Kui Tei, a Ramen shop at 60 W 56th St.

I was introduced to Ramen in the Army and later in college made my own in a Mr Coffee machine. But that was nothing compared to what Men Kui Tei has to offer. Starting at $7.50 and max'ed out at $10, you get heaping bowls of al dente ramen, loads of broth and usually some sliced pork cut fat and juicy. A side of kimchi for $2.50 and an Ashai beer ($6), I am in affordable heaven. No small task in midtown.

The NY Times had a wonderful piece in the travel section on ramen shops in Tokyo. I always wondered why there were so many Japanese business men in Men Kui Tei. The Time's article explains ramen is an obsession in Japan. Kinda like traditional Ivy league clothing. Gotta love that. The article also mentions a number of Ramen Blogs of which, this one in English, stands out for its photography and dense detail. Another example of how blogs increase our learning curve in just about anything.

My place is tiny and when they turn the heat on - look out. It can get very warm. I suggest you sit in the front where, with the door opening a lot, you average out a comfortable temp. Small price to pay for a warm, steamy and oddly sensual experience. Maybe it's all that slurping?