I ate like one of Hollywood’s most iconic films — it’s a masterpiece

Some people eat like kings, others eat like some of Hollywood’s most iconic movies. I fall into the latter category.

Food is a universal language, bringing people together with a shared appreciation for flavours and culture. A captivating film also brings people together, whether you love them or hate them, they’re always a point of discussion. But what’s it like to eat the food we see on screen?

I recently got to watch – and eat – Pulp Fiction for the first time with Taste Film and O2 Priority, an event I’ve heard about but never experienced myself. The idea is that you eat the food you see on screen. In essence, another version of a “see-food” diet.

During the eat-along, you eat and drink what they eat, or at least edible and drinkable iterations of some of the most iconic scenes. Turns out, Pulp Fiction has plenty of those.

I grew up watching a wide variety of films, feeling envious of the plentiful banquets or interesting snacks on screen. What I would do to eat the Halloween feast at Hogwarts, or know what a Scooby Snack actually tastes like.

To get us in the mood, we sampled a tipple of Hard Vanilla Coke, a very on-brand American diner beverage. I’m not usually a whisky drinker, but it certainly woke me up for the three-hour sitting.

First up was the Kawabunga Burger, a play on words for the Kahuna burger, which Samuel L. Jackson appeared to have far too much fun repeating over and over again. Our burgers came hand-delivered in a stereotypical white paper bag adorned with a novelty fast-food cartoon sticker. It’s all for the gimmick.

The Kahuna – or Kawabunga – burger is a Hawaiian beef smashed patty served with American-style cheese, grilled pineapple, with a side of a lemonade to wash it down. The smash burger was a little chunkier than smashed, but honestly, I wasn’t complaining because I was famished.

I think the grilled pineapple would divide a lot of people, you know, like pineapple on pizza would. My friend wasn’t a fan.

However, I’m a heathen, and pineapple on pizza and in burgers doesn’t put me off. By the time we’d finished the first course, they were ready to roll out the second.

Now this isn’t the fault of Pulp Fiction, but a second course of heavy, thick vanilla shake with whipped cream could’ve been left until the end. Boy, that milkshake was thick.

Plus you got a portion of fries to dip and share. How very 1950s Americana of them.

It’s the type of drink that can satisfy any sweet tooth, but also anyone who likes a salty kick from the fries. Quentin Tarantino didn’t really think about eating along with the film, because I was full.

I remember the iconic dance scene between Vince (John Travolta) and Mia (Uma Thurman) becoming a fad Halloween costume during my university days. Every second girl would don a black wig, put on some fake blood, an old school white shirt, and hold a cig.

A fun interactive part of the film was the ‘Shot To The Heart’: a vodka sour adrenaline shot served in a small bottle with a syringe. We had to extract the drink ourselves before shooting the drink at the same time Mia is shot with adrenaline. At this moment, I forgot how to use a syringe.

Pulp Fiction’s running time isn’t for the faint-hearted or easily distracted. Personally, the fourth course I could take or leave.

We were served a tomato and cheese-stuffed ‘Pulp Tart’ to replicate Butch’s (Bruce Willis) toaster pastries, just moments before he shot Vince dead on the quest for his heirloom watch. It wasn’t the most inventive of dishes, and if this had been a chronological five-course meal, this would’ve been served at the beginning. But as we know, Quentin makes this difficult for us, jumping narratives all over the place.

Just about finding a small corner of my stomach to sample another desert, the final course was described as ‘Honeybuns’. I expected it to be a filled bun of sorts, but it turned out to be a bread and butter pudding, wrapped up in a small metal lunch box a la Marsellus’s (Ving Rhames) briefcase.

I loved the link to the final diner scene, but I was stuffed by this point. Don’t get me wrong, I love a meal that can revel in all the tropes and gimmicks of Hollywood.

Pulp Fiction’s menu really is the epitome of stereotypical American food. Do I really need to see Pulp Fiction again? Probably not. Does Quentin Tarantino really need to have his audience endure his wooden acting skills? No, but he’ll do it anyway. However, I’m certain I want to eat another film again.