If you are what you eat, then I am that glorious, mountainous, single-dish timpano from "Big Night," my pastry shell filled with layers of penne and marinara studded with Italian sausage, spinach, grilled eggplant, delicately fried veal cutlets, buffalo mozzarella and more. So much more.

I am a smack-worthy Sunday dinner from "Soul Food," a hefty plate adorned with crispy fried chicken, golden macaroni and cheese and glistening greens simmered (and here comes the key word) forever in stock with salt pork.

Disney (ENLARGE)

Rat Remy makes omelets in 'Ratatouille.'

SAVORY FILM MOMENTS Here, in no particular order, are three of my most favorite film moments with food: • "Ratatouille" (2007) -- Cranky Paris dining critic Anton Ego (voiced by Peter O'Toole) takes his first bite of the restaurant's special dish and is launched into a sense memory free-fall, evoking major moments in his past. A great scene catapulting food beyond mere taste. • "GoodFellas" (1990) -- While in jail, mob heavyweight Paulie (Paul Sorvino) uses a razor blade to delicately carve ultra-thin slices of garlic. It's the start of a perfect Italian meal. • "Big Night" (1996) -- The morning after the massive food demonstration and celebration, Secondo (Stanley Tucci), without a word, uses a fork to whisk a simple breakfast of scrambled eggs. FAVORITE FOOD FILM? Join the discussion about mouthwatering movie scenes on Alan Smithee's blog at accessAtlanta.com/movies. RELATED: The Movie Guy dishes on films that feature food  Movie fans will love these recipes

I am the delicately minced shrimp in lettuce from "Eat Drink Man Woman." The sweetest mocha truffle from "Chocolat." The soothingly cool ice cream from "Hud," hand-churned by Patricia Neal on a hot Texas night.

Movies with food — like the upper crust "Babette's Feast" and "Like Water for Chocolate" and the lower crust "Tampopo" and "Pieces of April" — often make me hungry.

Lately I've been starving.

Keri Russell whips out pie after pie, each one strange but seemingly wonderful, in "Waitress," the indie movie that has lingered in theaters nationally for weeks.

There's Pixar's computer animated must-see "Ratatouille," arguably the best restaurant kitchen movie ever because of its vigorous, educational depiction of food artists at work. And I say that knowing the celebrated chef is a rat.

Fresh in theaters is the romantic comedy "No Reservations" with Catherine Zeta-Jones and Aaron Eckhart. As New York restaurant chefs, their dialogue is drenched with delicious intonations about moist quail, black — and white — truffles, scallops, sea bass, thyme reductions and a secret saffron sauce.

The movie is a remake of Germany's "Mostly Martha," a cinematic concoction that, in the tradition of the best food films, knows how to intoxicate moviegoers with images that can make them not only want to eat, but to cook.

The camera lingers on the food, the hands of a faceless cook caressing an onion, or another slicing celery in slo-mo for a dish with aromatics.

The film takes its time showing us oil being poured into tall glass vessels containing an array of enticing herbs.

I don't always salivate over high-concept meals.

I'm a rabid fan of the big-city restaurant drama "Dinner Rush" (2000), a heady burst of everything Italian that had me at its first overhead-shot hello of a massive bowl of red sauce and rigatoni, the pasta seemingly screaming al dente.

Danny Aiello plays the restaurant owner and he laments the pumpkin risotto with chestnuts and snapper carpaccio with blood orange sauce that has invaded his menu.

"I want food! There's nothing left to eat here," he grouses to his son, the chef. "I need something ... what ... nourishing. Traditional. Substantial. Something that tastes good. That smells good."

His snooty son then verbally goes in for the kill.

"We don't make meatballs here anymore."

Now, I smile every time that moment arrives, knowing how in more recent years, mini-meatballs have become chic.

And I do cook.

It takes practice. Minutes after seeing "Big Night" for the first time, I was planning my first timpano. Trust me, it takes hours to prepare. I filled the pastry with cooked meats and vegetables, pasta and cheese. I baked it. I turned it out of its large pot. I waited. And then I cut a big slice.

The timpano fell apart.

A neighbor aptly dubbed my dish, "Brains."

Best brains anybody's ever eaten, I must say.