Recently in From the Road Category
By Anthony Bourdain
There's usually a moment when we're shooting, most often near the end of a long meal. The crew has all the shots they need: plenty of "content" (meaning me, babbling about the food--and someone local, who presumably knows what we're eating, describing it), lots of long, lingering "food porn" close-ups, plenty of footage of kitchen prep (which Todd arrived hours earlier to get) and final assembly. As an exhausted silence settles over the table, well into my cups, I'll look straight at camera and sarcastically say, in my most unctuous, television "host-sums-up" voice, " So....What have we learned today?" This is a cue to producer and shooters that I'm fucking DONE. That it's time to "get some wides", meaning, the crew steps way back and shoots some generic "wide shots" from a distance. Audio is no longer a factor in these , so the mikes come off and those of us at the table can pretty much forget about the cameras, and act naturally, secure in the knowledge that the presumed "working" part of the day is almost over.
There's usually a moment when we're shooting, most often near the end of a long meal. The crew has all the shots they need: plenty of "content" (meaning me, babbling about the food--and someone local, who presumably knows what we're eating, describing it), lots of long, lingering "food porn" close-ups, plenty of footage of kitchen prep (which Todd arrived hours earlier to get) and final assembly. As an exhausted silence settles over the table, well into my cups, I'll look straight at camera and sarcastically say, in my most unctuous, television "host-sums-up" voice, " So....What have we learned today?" This is a cue to producer and shooters that I'm fucking DONE. That it's time to "get some wides", meaning, the crew steps way back and shoots some generic "wide shots" from a distance. Audio is no longer a factor in these , so the mikes come off and those of us at the table can pretty much forget about the cameras, and act naturally, secure in the knowledge that the presumed "working" part of the day is almost over.
Continue reading Past Imperfect/Future Shock.
You have to wonder about an ad depicting a dead squirrel--with the caption "Some Things Look Better In HD." Which is pretty much what the geniuses at Travel Promo have subjected innocent members of the public to.
Actually, it was worse: An old photo of yours truly -- after a horrifying night of drinking in Iceland, huddled, near naked in the Blue Lagoon, pondering whether to throw up or simply sink beneath the surface and die.
Actually, it was worse: An old photo of yours truly -- after a horrifying night of drinking in Iceland, huddled, near naked in the Blue Lagoon, pondering whether to throw up or simply sink beneath the surface and die.
Continue reading Adventures in the Ad Trade.
Predictably, a lot of people either hated--or were deeply offended by--the Romania show. Most,
I gather, are either Romanian or have traveled to Romania and had a
better time there than I did. Quite understandably, no one wants to see
the host of a travel show having a bad time of it in their country,
griping miserably about how things went wrong--and how utterly fucked
up things were.
But the fact is:
Things WERE fucked
up. My Russian pal, Zamir, who had helped make such good shows in
Russia and Uzbekistan, was definitely NOT a good choice to show me
around Romania. I think, if nothing else, we made that explicitly clear.
Continue reading Romania: What the hell happened??.
“Poor Ruhlman,” says my wife, for about the twelfth time today. Michael has just shown her the result of her boxing demo on Friday night; a large, dark purple bruise running from his shoulder to his elbow. A truly gasp-inducing injury. As Mrs. Ruhlman forgivingly pointed out, it was perhaps not such a good idea to suggest--after receiving one playful poke--that my wife “give it her best shot." She’s been taking boxing AND mixed martial arts classes nearly every day for six months and I told Ruhlman that both her left hook and right cross can knock you out. Did he listen?
Continue reading Day Three: The Aftermath.
By Anthony Bourdain
Well ... the
Golden Clogs went pretty much as hoped by the Forces of Evil.
Under-attended. Coincidence? Or conspiracy? Many of the people who DID
show up were either a) drunk or b) seemingly confused. Ruhlman and I
raced through our ceremonial duties as quickly as we could--before the
little remaining gold paint left on our awards peeled entirely
away--and before a good part of the audience realized we were NOT the
warm up to “Paula’s Poker Party” and that there would be no free fruit
cup.
You know, I’ve mercilessly and enthusiastically made
sport of Rocco di Spirito many, many times. I’ve said--and accused
him--of a full menu of truly awful things. Some of them were even true.
No matter how bizarre or inexplicable some of his career choices, I
always respected him as a gifted cook. He’s also--when not flogging
frozen products--a thoughtful and insightful judge on Top Chef. But I
have to tell you--of ALL the chefs who said they were absolutely,
positively, by all means would be DELIGHTED to show up at our travesty
of an awards ceremony--at the end of the day, only Rocco and Aaron
Sanchez actually made it.
Continue reading Day Two: South Beach Wine and Food Festival.
Reporting it As It Happens: your humble correspondent, Anthony Bourdain:
Day One:
Ruhlman showed up late for our all-important preparatory session for the Golden Clog Awards Ceremony last night, by which time I was deep into the negronis. I have only the dimmest of memories of who, exactly, is nominated for what--and NO memory at all of who’s supposed to win. I think we ended up deciding on making half of it up as we go along--mid-ceremony. Our “celebrity presenters” have--for the most part, abandoned us for safer pastures.
There has been, I am reliably informed, a terror campaign of late night heavy--breathing phone calls, suggestions of “you’ll never work in this town--or ANY town--again” and a wave of second, more sensible thoughts. The affected parties have suddenly remembered previous charitable commitments: (The “Putt For and End to the Heartbreak of Psoriasis” Invitational, the “Pull My Finger To Stop Chronic Flatulence” Bowlin’ and BBQ Party--and the Fiji Water For Peace event claiming the lion’s share of defectors). Can’t say I blame them ...
Day One:
Ruhlman showed up late for our all-important preparatory session for the Golden Clog Awards Ceremony last night, by which time I was deep into the negronis. I have only the dimmest of memories of who, exactly, is nominated for what--and NO memory at all of who’s supposed to win. I think we ended up deciding on making half of it up as we go along--mid-ceremony. Our “celebrity presenters” have--for the most part, abandoned us for safer pastures.
There has been, I am reliably informed, a terror campaign of late night heavy--breathing phone calls, suggestions of “you’ll never work in this town--or ANY town--again” and a wave of second, more sensible thoughts. The affected parties have suddenly remembered previous charitable commitments: (The “Putt For and End to the Heartbreak of Psoriasis” Invitational, the “Pull My Finger To Stop Chronic Flatulence” Bowlin’ and BBQ Party--and the Fiji Water For Peace event claiming the lion’s share of defectors). Can’t say I blame them ...
Continue reading Dateline: Miami - The South Beach Wine and Food Festival.
By Anthony Bourdain
Well, one can hardly complain about the plumbing here. The toilet seat is a preheated, toasty warm. A menu of warm jets of varying intensities, direction and temperature awaits should I choose to press one of the many buttons. I am afraid to do so. Since Todd discovered his toilet, it’s been very hard getting him out of the bathroom for crew calls. Yesterday, after numerous unanswered phone calls, we had to ask the management to break into his room. After a brief scuffle we were able to drag him, pants around his ankles and a copy of
“But I’ve never felt so FRESH,” he kept wailing, plaintively from the back seat. His face pressed to the window as he stared longingly back in the direction of the hotel.
Continue reading Notes From the Road: Tokyo.
By Anthony Bourdain
The fire went out early again last night. Not even embers going when I woke up at 3AM. It’s cold and drafty at night, up here on Phupadeng, and stuck without kindling, I ended up burning my briefing material, page by page--in ascending order of importance--as my situation became more desperate and the wood finally caught fire. I now have no idea what I’m doing tomorrow. But after dragging my bed around directly in front of the narrow column of heat coming from the fireplace, and burying myself under three quilts, I was toasty warm and slept like the dead.
After a breakfast of chicken, grilled between splints of bamboo, and an egg omelette, a soup of wild mushrooms and greens--and of course, sticky rice and fiery chili paste, we headed out into the mountains to visit a rice farmer and family, catch some swallows and have a meal.
Continue reading Notes From the Road: Laos: Mount Phupadeng, near the Plain of Jars.
By Anthony Bourdain
It's possible to hurt my feelings. For instance:
I admit I'm genuinely annoyed by the occasional internet poster who suggests that whatever I might have to say about food, about travel--about anything--is somehow gravely diminished by the fact that I'm no longer working in a professional kitchen. That proximity to the line, the actual job of cooking dinner for the public enhances one's powers of perception, focuses the mind and builds vocabulary and that "keeping it real" necessitates dying behind the stove, a broken, broken kneed and broke-ass geezer in his mid-fifties, long past it as a cook - finally succumbed to stroke or liver disease. It's a point of view popular among internet nerds and cubicle geeks who've never done a minute's physical labor in their lives, the same people who take photographs of every course at their favorite restaurants, convinced that it's Jean Georges himself in there, personally boning out their squab.
My instinctive reaction to this kind of inverse snobbery is normally a raised middle finger and a "I had twenty-eight years of standing behind a stove - while you were arguing over bundt cake recipes in a chat room, motherfucker! Now, kiss my ass!!"
But the fact is, there's a little voice in my head that completely agrees with their point of view.
It's possible to hurt my feelings. For instance:
I admit I'm genuinely annoyed by the occasional internet poster who suggests that whatever I might have to say about food, about travel--about anything--is somehow gravely diminished by the fact that I'm no longer working in a professional kitchen. That proximity to the line, the actual job of cooking dinner for the public enhances one's powers of perception, focuses the mind and builds vocabulary and that "keeping it real" necessitates dying behind the stove, a broken, broken kneed and broke-ass geezer in his mid-fifties, long past it as a cook - finally succumbed to stroke or liver disease. It's a point of view popular among internet nerds and cubicle geeks who've never done a minute's physical labor in their lives, the same people who take photographs of every course at their favorite restaurants, convinced that it's Jean Georges himself in there, personally boning out their squab.
My instinctive reaction to this kind of inverse snobbery is normally a raised middle finger and a "I had twenty-eight years of standing behind a stove - while you were arguing over bundt cake recipes in a chat room, motherfucker! Now, kiss my ass!!"
But the fact is, there's a little voice in my head that completely agrees with their point of view.
Continue reading Notes From the Road ... The Home Edition.
By Anthony Bourdain
I was sitting poolside in Waikiki, after a hard days shoot, taking a brief break from my club sandwich and boat drink to check on my e-mail. Michael Ruhlman had cut and pasted something for me and sent it along for my "immediate attention". It indicated under "subject" that it had originated from the Food Network and it looked like a press release, so I assumed it would be of about as much interest to me as Guy Fieri's hair styling tips or Carrot Top's breakfast preferences. But I read a few lines and immediately almost spit up my Mai Tai:
"Food Network will reprise original series 'A Cook's Tour' this December, it was announced today by Bob Tuschman, Senior Vice President, Programming and Production for Food Network. The series, featuring outspoken chef Anthony Bourdain, returns to Food Network with a Christmas Day Marathon, airing four back-to-back episodes on Tuesday, December 25th from 9-11pm ET/PT. The series will then join the primetime lineup in its new timeslot on Tuesday, January 8th at 10:30pm ET/PT. "Anthony Bourdain is a passionate foodie who has amazing stories to share as he takes viewers on a unique tour of our planet" said Tuschman. We look forward to introducing new viewers to this memorable Food Network series and know they will enjoy Anthony's unique voice and unforgettable adventures."
"Why? Why that old show? And why now?"
I was sitting poolside in Waikiki, after a hard days shoot, taking a brief break from my club sandwich and boat drink to check on my e-mail. Michael Ruhlman had cut and pasted something for me and sent it along for my "immediate attention". It indicated under "subject" that it had originated from the Food Network and it looked like a press release, so I assumed it would be of about as much interest to me as Guy Fieri's hair styling tips or Carrot Top's breakfast preferences. But I read a few lines and immediately almost spit up my Mai Tai:
"Food Network will reprise original series 'A Cook's Tour' this December, it was announced today by Bob Tuschman, Senior Vice President, Programming and Production for Food Network. The series, featuring outspoken chef Anthony Bourdain, returns to Food Network with a Christmas Day Marathon, airing four back-to-back episodes on Tuesday, December 25th from 9-11pm ET/PT. The series will then join the primetime lineup in its new timeslot on Tuesday, January 8th at 10:30pm ET/PT. "Anthony Bourdain is a passionate foodie who has amazing stories to share as he takes viewers on a unique tour of our planet" said Tuschman. We look forward to introducing new viewers to this memorable Food Network series and know they will enjoy Anthony's unique voice and unforgettable adventures."
"Why? Why that old show? And why now?"
Continue reading Notes From the Road ... Hawaii.
