The infamous Giallo, Death Laid an Egg, begins with total abstract disorientation: quick cuts, John Cage-y music and images of developing chicken embryos are followed by an arty murder. I'm pretty sure that the filmmakers put the murder up front to conceal the truth: that this movie is mostly (I swear) about the business of poultry farming and it takes almost an hour before you even get some awkward groping – and it's even longer before any more blood is spilled on lingerie. There's nearly an hour of confusing scenes and conversations about chicken farming equipment, insomnia, party planning, more chicken farming, and experiments in chicken farming (there's a laboratory that factors into the “plot” later) before the traditional Giallo components come into play.

The gorgeous Gina Lollobrigida is Anna, the owner of a chicken farm that she runs with much pride and joy (at one point she giggles through a friendly family photo shoot while holding up dead and mangled chickens) with her husband Marco (played by Jean-Louis Trintignant), who is having an affair with their assistant, the blonde and spacey Gabrielle (played by Ewa Aulin of Candy), who so pretty that her stumbling through abrupt non sequiturs like, “Hmm… I would like some delicious ice cream” is totally adorable.

Does it already seem like I'm describing a dream rather than a real film? If so, then I'm at least conveying some of the strangeness of this movie –?but just let me tell you about “the Association”. It's mentioned early in the film with some urgency, so it makes sense for one to expect some sort of Mafia type organization – but one would be wrong. It is, of course, The Poultry Association and their office houses a huge egg sculpture as well as a bunch of men running around as if they were on Wall Street shouting, “I'm buying! I'm buying! I'm buying everything!!!”

But despite the man on the phone's enthusiasm, the Association is facing big problems, for one (as the head of the Association declares in front of a huge painting of a rooster), “No one knows about poultry!” Just ignore the absurdity of that statement and sit back as the plot leads Marco into an uneasy working relationship with a young advertising hotshot named Mondaini (played by abstract painter and father of Leelee, Jean Sobieski) with whom he must work with on a PR campaign designed to alert the public to the fact that chickens and their eggs are available for purchase and consumption.

Fortunately, Mondaini has a new idea for some posters that “will take them by surprise,” which, quite frankly, took me by surprise too; this scene is so outrageous that we were barely able to breathe as tears of laughter streamed down our cheeks. I'll try to explain: Mondaini's ad campaign features “chickens as an integral part of society,” as a doctor, an engineer, even a soldier – the ludicrous images on the posters perfectly match his totally gonzo concept which, as he enthusiastically points out, is “Newer than tomorrow, preposterously new!” I agree… I think.

The other issue plaguing the Association is that chickens are continually born with heads and feet. This problem is resolved in the crazy chicken farm laboratory (I told you it comes back into play) where Anna is thrilled that her salaried geneticist has succeeded in spawning headless, feetless chickens. “Finally,” she tells her husband, “something we can share!” But Marco does not share her enthusiasm and in a fit of rage he brands the weird writhing sacks of veins and feathers “monsters”, then he proceeds to beat them to death with an over-sized metal bar. In an effort to heighten the weirdness, worms crawl out of the grotesque feathered lumps as he splits them open.

There's also hotel prostitution/sexual perversion subplot, a flaming car wreck, and a Seven Minutes in Heaven-like party game. For lack of a better descriptor, it's a supremely weird movie – and a fairly unforgettable one. Opinions vary drastically: some call it a masterpiece of the genre citing its truly unique editing and gorgeous cinematography (both DP, Dario Di Palma and star Jean-Louis Trintignant went on to work on highly influential films), while others declare it to be downright awful and ridiculous.

Either way, its status of being nearly impossible to find has gained it notoriority in certain nerdy film circles, and when offered a rare chance to view it, few who've heard the synopsis can resist (many thanks – and birthday wishes – to Matthew for tipping us off to this one). I got my copy (an excellent transfer) from J4HI, the same place I got the wonderful and equally difficult to find Roller Derby documentary Derby.

Harold Faltermeyer pretty much defined the drum machine and synth sound of mid to late 80's detective work when he wrote both 'Axel F' for Beverly Hills Cop and the theme song to Fletch. The two songs and, come to think of it, the movies themselves have a lot in common and when the latter was playing in the background one recent Sunday afternoon, I couldn't help but get excited every time this tune came on. It's energetic, fun and dated – but in a good way.

Please note that I am not recommending the Stephanie Mills song “Bit by Bit” (which is dated in a bad, womanly Billy Ocean type way) which is often considered to be the theme of the Chevy Chase classic.

You Tube features this brilliant cover (which takes advantage of the Oscillator Sync feature on the Alesis Ion) of what is a very popular song among synth enthusiasts – and here's a Guitar Hero version.

The last couple of decades have been truly unkind to Chevy Chase. The highlight of his career in the 90s (in my opinion) was being able to share the small screen with the Digital Underground; more recently his attempts at a comeback were fueled by bitterness and and a stint on Law and Order as a racist Mel Gibson-y celebrity. And didn't he have some kind of late night talk show? But maybe it's all just karmic payback for all those feuds with the entire cast of SNL (especially Bill Murray, with whom he was involved in a back stage bitch fight) and his legendary enormous ego.

Growing up, I knew him from better times. His vacations were comically disastrous, he wore a caballero outfit well, and even Funny Farm had me in stitches. Still, I never found him attractive. He was just the old guy who danced nerdily in the video of my least favorite Paul Simon song.

As an older person I finally got around to seeing Caddyshack and immediately fell prey to the hidden charms of his smug smile and smart ass remarks – he reminds me of lesser and less wise boyfriend choices of the past. Watching Fletch this last weekend (see this week's song pick for more about that) I was reminded that I might want to include him here, despite his possible foibles as a human. He's at least a devoted family man who has a gripe with Kevin Smith, so he can't be all bad right? Um, right?

I'm not necessarily a follower of fiber artists, I think few are, but ever since coming face to face with a huge off white piece by renowned artist Sheila Hicks at the Cooper Hewitt, I've becoming more and more intrigued by her work every day. So much inspiration can be taken from her use of color to her international influences (she studied and traveled to Venezuela, Bolivia, Peru and Chile, and back north to Mexico when she began her foray into textiles).

From her tiny and precious miniatures to the monumental installations, her work is as fresh and innovative today as it was when she began decades ago. I could easily see her oeuvre inspiring fashion today. Her work is almost primitive, whimsical and very handmade while still seeming very sophisticated and enlightened.

As a woman, Hicks has always been respected and admired. She is known as an encouraging and helpful mentor and really made her own way in a medium not yet fully recognized in the art world during a time where it was hard enough just to be a female artist in a male dominated field.

As I discovered in this 2006 article she is still working at the age of 72 and is still finding inspiration from the wide world- this time the island Ouessant. While her life has been spent traveling and she continues to split her time between Paris, New York and Tokyo, she began as a nice Midwestern girl who has since counted consultant, teacher, publisher, and artist among her professions.

While unfortunately the publication she edited for a short time: American Fabrics and Fashion is pretty difficult to find, a lot of her work is online for your viewing pleasure. Be prepared to want to find thick, makeshift, patch worked and beautifully colored scarves or jackets. Also be prepared to sadly not find anything quite like it to add to your wardrobe.

For Christmas this year, we made baskets from Jim's family made up of neighborhood favorites: Zywiec, Zubrowka, Torcik Wedlowski, sparkling lemonade, candies from Slodycze Wendel, kielbasa, and babka and makowiec from the unbelievably stark but excellent bakery Rzeszowska Bakery.

This slim, unassuming place where nearly no English is spoken smells of piping hot baked goods all day, and I was lucky enough to get the cheese babka right from the oven. I am waiting for the day she has cinnamon available, but there's no rhyme or reason that I've discovered about what why or when they bake what they do and there is usually no more than two or three things available at any one time. I just have to be patient, because if the cheese version tastes this good, I simply can't imagine the cinnamon.

Less patient people who don't live in Greenpoint can get the delicacy from Dean and Deluca. A generous co worker brought some in to share and I admit it's delicious, but at 24 dollars for two, it's also (like most anything in that store) over priced. But I have it to thank it for leading me to Rzeszowska Bakery as it got me researching where to get the city's best (cheaper) babka and not surprisingly?- it was right around the corner. It just goes to show that there's always something to discover when you live in the city and it's one of the reasons I love it so.

Aside from babka they were also serving makowiec for Christmas, an extremely popular poppy seed bread that was traditionally made for Easter but has since become a Christmas specialty too because people love it so much. (Thank you to Dora for all the helpful information!) This bread has a drier, cake like texture, a chocolate swirl and the poppy seeds almost taste like coconut.

New Museum's retrospective of Elizabeth Peyton, a first for the artist, is worth traveling through slush and rain to see. An artist with a wonderful color sense and true intimacy (see the sleeping portraits of “Tony”) in her work. She's also the kind of artist that would have made the boys club “artistes” back at RISD shudder.

Mixing both the “lowly” subject of pop culture ( subject range from Kurt Cobain to sometimes even interpreting film stills from movies like Age of Innocence) and the out of style traditional portraiture, Peyton dared to do what no one else was at the time and ends up a unique figure in painting for standing alone in all her unabashedly girlie, classical, and crushy way.

The faces are always the focus of her paintings, everything else – aside from a few textile patterns – become vague strokes of color. The almost realism detail to faces can be seen in the painting Liz and Diane especially. Whether the portraits are of friends, famous faces from the past (Napoleon, Delacroix and Frida Kahlo to name a few) or the present (Jarvis Cocker, Liam Gallagher and Sid Vicious) they are recognizable but similar. Under her brush all her subjects become part of the same angelic handsome and skinny hip family.

I was surprised by how little paint she often uses, particularly with oils as if many were just quick unplanned sketches. Silver Bosie is one of the most beautiful pieces in the collection and parts are left completely unpainted.

In a short time Peyton has accumulated a large body of work, all very consistent but never repetitive. Each one still draws you in on it's own, even after gazing at two floors of them.

As for the other floor of work by Mary Heilmann, eh, I say skip it. There were only two pieces I liked: Pink Jackie P and the duo The Third Man and Neo Noir, but otherwise it reminded me of Freshman foundation from college. Spend your time in the bright, cheery and browse happy book store instead where Peyton buttons can be got for two dollars before they sell out.

After Jan. 11, the show will go on to The Walker Museum in Minneapolis (look for it Devon). If you live in New York, make sure to stop by before then!

With the culinary school of Johnson and Wales, Providence is perhaps surprisingly, a hotbed of delicious food. On a recent trip back to my college town (where my old apartment building has certainly seen better days) we decided to partake in some new culinary offerings as well as visit some old Federal Hill favorites.

Federal Hill is a landmark area, cluttered with Italian restaurants, markets, and shops. In school we often would stop by Bob and Timmy's and recently had a nice meal at Walters, just two of many spots for pasta. This time we headed to the markets, first stopping by Tony's Colonial Food Store for a meatball sandwich to share and a pack of these lovely Leone Violet candies. The small market is brimming with imported goods and about sixty varieties of olive oil.

Down the street is Constantino's, another market that's much more intense with crowds (which is why we avoided it on arrival after a long car ride) but we went back before heading home with lots of delicious goods like fresh made Walnut and Gorgonzola Ravioli and a Sweet Pumpkin Pesto to go with it. We also picked up home made Torrone, a delight that is immeasurably greater than the boxed version that is readily available. If you get nothing else on your visit to Federal Hill, bring back a square of this nougaty sweet.

Jut around back of the main square you'll find Pastiche for your fine dessert needs. It's not cheap (it was about $12 for two slices of tarts – pecan and apple) but the slices are sharably and very yummy. It's been around for 25 years for good reason.

For a sit down meal we had intended to try the newish and recommended place New Rivers, but they were closed, so we found another fairly new spot called La Laiterie Bistro, a dimly lit, comfy brick restaurant nestled next to a sister reputable cheese shop. It is an excellent addition to the already glowing food scene in town.

We ordered the Berkshire Pork Chef's Whim tasting menu with accompanying beers (not a usual option, but one I'd love to see on more tasting menus instead of wine). The meal began with an IPA and a delectable pork cheek with poached egg, winter vegetable and black eyed pea puree. Next was a terrific, almost sweet multi-grain ale called Sphinx, by Otter Creek (friends, keep an eye out for this at beer shops!) and a filling, salty loin with warm sauerkraut and potatoes. We finished the reasonably priced ($50 with the beers) three course meal with feta, oatmeal crumble and pea shoots paired with the best mead I've ever had from England (not that the stuff at the Ren Faire is that hard to outshine). He also recommended a Danish mead called Viking Blood that I am on a quest to find in New York.

The service was enthusiastic and affable, and La Laiterie is clearly becoming a neighborhood favorite. The place was packed by 6 pm. It's very on trend with an interest in local farming, seasonal foods, and an informal but refined environment where the wait staff dresses impeccably and Belle and Sebastian is piped through the speakers.

The Brits have always been more willing to infuse their humor with a genuine sadness and Waiting for God, a comedy about two lively and intelligent elderly guests at a retirement home who are essentially waiting to die, is no different. Despite the insufferable laugh track (that the Brits also insist on) it's a complex, morose, and touching show with a Keeping Up Appearances facade and On Death and Dying soul.

The main characters Diana and Tom are played with charm by Stephanie Cole and Graham Crowden. She is a sharp tongued mean old lady who was once a tough as nails world traveling journalist who has no intention of rolling over just because she's elderly. He is an imaginative sweetheart who led a simple life and longed for adventure that he had to make up, while she detests the simple life that's been forced upon her at Bayview Retirement Village. Tom moves in next door at his son's harpy wife's insistence and the two become reluctant friends and neat, joke filled, half hour escapades ensue.

While it's not a ground breaking show in style (imagine how much more modern it could have been if it were made post-Office) it does touch on subjects and characters who are rarely given a voice not only in television, but society. It reminds me of one of my favorite parts of the great novel, Cloud Atlas that also took place in a nursery home in england.

Swordfish is such a great replacement for steak with it's meatiness if you're looking for a healthier, lighter option. This Swordfish Mexicana recipe transport you with its tropical flavors, so long as you can still find an avocado out of season (which you still can, but hurry!).

Serve with some rice and a splash of Ponzu sauce.