by Matthew Howe
One of the best things about working in the film business is the food. One of the worst things about working in the film business is also the food. It all depends what end of the biz you’re in.
The rules are simple, a crew must be fed six hours from the time they arrive. Then six hours after that first meal, another is due. On union jobs, if you’re not fed in time you get a “meal penalty.” That is they pay you extra for every fifteen minutes a meal break is delayed. Score two hours of meal penalties and you’ll make more than your day rate, which is why union guys pray they won’t break on time.
One of the best things about working in the film business is the food. One of the worst things about working in the film business is also the food. It all depends what end of the biz you’re in.
The rules are simple, a crew must be fed six hours from the time they arrive. Then six hours after that first meal, another is due. On union jobs, if you’re not fed in time you get a “meal penalty.” That is they pay you extra for every fifteen minutes a meal break is delayed. Score two hours of meal penalties and you’ll make more than your day rate, which is why union guys pray they won’t break on time.
Meal penalties really are about the break, not the food because there is food everywhere on a union shoot. One of the biggest departments is catering and “craft services.” They set up four or five pop-up tents in a row, throw some tables under it, and stock it with every snack known to man. There’s coffee, tea, and usually a juice machine with fresh fruit and veggies ready to squeeze. So even though there was no lunch break, there’s still plenty of food.
There’s also “food ninjas.” When working on a big production, set is often pretty far from the crafty tent. So to make sure everyone is well-fed between meals, the caterers load up a cart with soup, or nachos, or little sandwiches, and wheel it right up to set, quietly. Anyone who isn’t actively focusing a light or setting a flag can wander over and have a bite.
The craft services people take their job so seriously that on a recent shoot with the director McG (Terminator: Salvation) I overhead him ask the craft services guy is there was any Franks Red Hot sauce left. There wasn’t. No problem. McG shrugged, thanked the guy, and went for the Tabasco. There was no issue whatsoever. Yet fifteen minutes later I see a PA running back to set with a bag which clanks suspiciously. Yep, half a dozen bottle of Frank’s.
Another thing the unions do right is pizza. Pizza and Chinese food are actually banned on union sets as they are considered an insult to the crew. This is because every low-budget, no account production company trying to crank out indie features relies on these staples to keep their food budget low. Or in the case of Troma (the despicable cinematic super-villains who made the unwatchable Toxic Avenger series) it’s cheese sandwiches. Maybe. As Troma producer Michael Hertz was once overhead saying to a hungry crew person whining about not being fed “kid, you got the whole rest of your life to eat.”
There’s also “food ninjas.” When working on a big production, set is often pretty far from the crafty tent. So to make sure everyone is well-fed between meals, the caterers load up a cart with soup, or nachos, or little sandwiches, and wheel it right up to set, quietly. Anyone who isn’t actively focusing a light or setting a flag can wander over and have a bite.
The craft services people take their job so seriously that on a recent shoot with the director McG (Terminator: Salvation) I overhead him ask the craft services guy is there was any Franks Red Hot sauce left. There wasn’t. No problem. McG shrugged, thanked the guy, and went for the Tabasco. There was no issue whatsoever. Yet fifteen minutes later I see a PA running back to set with a bag which clanks suspiciously. Yep, half a dozen bottle of Frank’s.
Another thing the unions do right is pizza. Pizza and Chinese food are actually banned on union sets as they are considered an insult to the crew. This is because every low-budget, no account production company trying to crank out indie features relies on these staples to keep their food budget low. Or in the case of Troma (the despicable cinematic super-villains who made the unwatchable Toxic Avenger series) it’s cheese sandwiches. Maybe. As Troma producer Michael Hertz was once overhead saying to a hungry crew person whining about not being fed “kid, you got the whole rest of your life to eat.”
Pizza. Oh how do I hate pizza. It’s acceptable for a “second meal” but is almost unheard of and union shoots actually ban both Chinese food and pizza as crew meals.
I was working on a low budget TV pilot once, and the producers fed us pizza five times in a row. When lunch showed up on our third day and it was pizza, plain pizza, I did something I’ve never done before. I flipped out. Started screaming at the producer. Literally picked a pizza up and threw it against the wall.
A very nice tray of sandwiches and salad showed up 20 minutes later.
But even union food can’t compete to what you get on food shoots. I did a season and a half on Behind the Bash with Giada De Laurentiis. (You know, Dino’s granddaughter.) We went around the country profiling amazing parties and the caterers behind them. Part of the job was the “food porn” shots, where the chefs made each dish they were serving for us and we photographd them in loving, mouth-watering detail. Since we didn’t have a food prep person messing the dishes up with various goo and glazes they brush on to make everything look tastier, the dishes could actually be eaten after we shot them. And eat we did. Literally some of the finest food in America, in our bellies.
Then there was Steve Ravioli. Steve is a New Yorker who runs a… wait for it… ravioli shop. He’s a boisterous, cheerful Italian guy who is more passionate about mozzarella and Parma ham than anyone you’ve ever met in your life. The guy is a whirlwind of energy, and clearly is possessed by an Italian grandmother because anyone who comes within 10 feet of him is going to get fed. Literally, you’re in the room with him and he is shoving stuff in your mouth. “Here, taste this, taste this.”
We’re doing host standups, the part of the show where the host talks straight to the camera explaining what’s going on. While I’m shooting, camera on my shoulder, rolling tape, Steve is standing over my shoulder. “Matt,” he whispers, “taste this, taste this.” And more cheese, salami, bread, whatever is getting shoved in my mouth while I’m trying to work.
I was working on a low budget TV pilot once, and the producers fed us pizza five times in a row. When lunch showed up on our third day and it was pizza, plain pizza, I did something I’ve never done before. I flipped out. Started screaming at the producer. Literally picked a pizza up and threw it against the wall.
A very nice tray of sandwiches and salad showed up 20 minutes later.
But even union food can’t compete to what you get on food shoots. I did a season and a half on Behind the Bash with Giada De Laurentiis. (You know, Dino’s granddaughter.) We went around the country profiling amazing parties and the caterers behind them. Part of the job was the “food porn” shots, where the chefs made each dish they were serving for us and we photographd them in loving, mouth-watering detail. Since we didn’t have a food prep person messing the dishes up with various goo and glazes they brush on to make everything look tastier, the dishes could actually be eaten after we shot them. And eat we did. Literally some of the finest food in America, in our bellies.
Then there was Steve Ravioli. Steve is a New Yorker who runs a… wait for it… ravioli shop. He’s a boisterous, cheerful Italian guy who is more passionate about mozzarella and Parma ham than anyone you’ve ever met in your life. The guy is a whirlwind of energy, and clearly is possessed by an Italian grandmother because anyone who comes within 10 feet of him is going to get fed. Literally, you’re in the room with him and he is shoving stuff in your mouth. “Here, taste this, taste this.”
We’re doing host standups, the part of the show where the host talks straight to the camera explaining what’s going on. While I’m shooting, camera on my shoulder, rolling tape, Steve is standing over my shoulder. “Matt,” he whispers, “taste this, taste this.” And more cheese, salami, bread, whatever is getting shoved in my mouth while I’m trying to work.
Or Fritz Knipschildt, considered the second or third best confectioner in the world. He has a chocolate factory in Norwalk Connecticut we were shooting at. The man himself gathers the crew for “an important announcement.” We obediently listen. Fritz tells us that we are in a working chocolate factory, his people will be making fresh chocolates all around us, so there is one very, very important rule we must all follow. He takes a dramatic pause then lays this on us. “Anything you think looks good, please eat. Right off the tray. Just don’t burn your fingers. Have as much as you like. And have fun.” When the shoot’s over, he presents us all with gift bags crammed with his confections. Maybe $300 bucks worth of stuff. The best shoot swag since the guys at Smith & Wesson took us into the gift shop and told us to pick out anything we wanted. (Except guns, of course.)
But maybe the best food moment was out in San Francisco. We were profiling the man considered one of the finest caterers in America. An Austrian fellow named Ludwig who made the best lamb-chop I've ever tasted. While setting up, he asked if anyone wanted coffee. I’m not a coffee drinker and asked if there was any chance to get some green tea. He nodded, went away.
Ten minutes later, he comes back with coffee.
But no tea. No problem, I figure, once again the tea guy gets the shaft. I’m used to it by now (and now travel with my own teabags so all I have to sniff out is a hot water source. And I am very good at sniffing out hot water sources.)
Ten minutes after that, Ludwig comes in with a glass and sterling tea service. There’s whole-leaf green tea brewing in the pot.
“I didn’t want to give you just any green tea,” he tells me. “So I had my sushi chef make this for you. It’s considered the finest green tea in the world.” Dramatic pause. “It’s $1000.00 a pound.”
He smiles. “Enjoy.”
But maybe the best food moment was out in San Francisco. We were profiling the man considered one of the finest caterers in America. An Austrian fellow named Ludwig who made the best lamb-chop I've ever tasted. While setting up, he asked if anyone wanted coffee. I’m not a coffee drinker and asked if there was any chance to get some green tea. He nodded, went away.
Ten minutes later, he comes back with coffee.
But no tea. No problem, I figure, once again the tea guy gets the shaft. I’m used to it by now (and now travel with my own teabags so all I have to sniff out is a hot water source. And I am very good at sniffing out hot water sources.)
Ten minutes after that, Ludwig comes in with a glass and sterling tea service. There’s whole-leaf green tea brewing in the pot.
“I didn’t want to give you just any green tea,” he tells me. “So I had my sushi chef make this for you. It’s considered the finest green tea in the world.” Dramatic pause. “It’s $1000.00 a pound.”
He smiles. “Enjoy.”
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