Anthony Bourdain Tag Feed for 'anthony bourdain blog'

Pressure Drop

Anthony Bourdain — Wed, 22 Oct 2008 23:22:38 -0400

Failure has a stench all its own. It smells like fear ... and shame. I may have been conveniently removed from the burning wreckage inspired by last week's experiment, happily narcotized in a pressurized cabin on its way to Manila, but the odor followed me just the same.

It says something when the comments about a show (on my blog and on the message boards) were smarter, more thoughtful and insightful than the show itself.

The People Have Spoken.

Which made my arrival in the Philippines even more shaky. Of all the people who watch NO RESERVATIONS, it's been Filipinos who have been consistently among our biggest fans and most vocal about our having yet to film in their country.

"You've been all over Asia," I hear again and again," … so WHY haven't you come to the Philippines?!"

Well … I'm here. And the pressure is on. Luggage yet to arrive, I walk, unshaven, unwashed and in dirty clothes through the lobby of my hotel and everybody, it seems, watches the show. All eyes seem to follow my reeking carcass up to the breakfast buffet. People stop me and ask me what I plan to show the world of their country. Still stinging from the whirlwind of revulsion that followed last week's stillbirth, I wish I had a big floppy hat I could pull down over my head (if not my whole body). All I can say is "Don't worry. We're NOT doing balut. Been there. Done that." And privately think to myself, "Don't screw this up … don't screw this up ... don't screw this up."

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Wrong Again!

Anthony Bourdain — Mon, 21 Jul 2008 12:22:11 -0400

It sounded like a truly terrible idea from the get-go -- Solicit video submissions from absolute strangers, pick one of them, and then put myself into said stranger's hands for a week, someplace I've never been. I hadn't been paying attention when the network suggested it, and I looked at the prospect as a far away, slow moving train that would hopefully never arrive and figured that in any case, it could be finessed. If I actually had to go somewhere with a fan, I'd pick someplace close and easy.

But the train was here, now. A decision had to be made. And Buffalo was looking like a mighty strong contender. Out of thousands of often terrifying submissions, dark figures muttering at the camera from blood-freckled cellar rumpus rooms, there were actually a few really good ones. Nelson Starr's admirably deranged ode to Buffalo was a snowy masterpiece -- if limited in its culinary offerings. It had the advantage of being close. And that it kind of "rawked".

Augusto Elefanio's enthusiastic plea to take him along to the Philippines, so that he could reconnect with his roots, was also excellent and heartfelt and might get the masses of Filipinos who've been (understandably) hectoring me ("Why haven't you been to my country yet?") finally, off my back.

Eric Rivera suggested Thailand -- from a kick-boxer's perspective, in an articulate, compassionate video presenting a place that was already familiar to me and well known for its outrageously varied and delicious cuisine.

And then there was Danya Alhamrani's earnest, professional looking tape urging me to join her in Saudi Arabia -- just about the last place I would ever have considered going.Unfortunately, for my plans to basically rig this whole, shameful project, to pick some marginally comprehensible, and relatively unthreatening fan and spend a few days shooting footage of me comically avoiding the contest winner -- in like, Bermuda, or Montauk, Danya's video was just so damn good. And Saudi Arabia seemed like such a difficult, even foolish option.

I mean, let's face it, how much fun could it be? Most of the hijackers came from Saudi Arabia. They're mostly pretty fundamentalist Muslims! Women cover themselves head-to-toe in black. The men wear head dress and white floor length, skirty things! It's hot --really hot. There's NO BEER!! If any destination was predestined to suck, this was it.

But Danya Alhamrani is an extraordinary woman. And the fact that during finalist interviews, she pretty much challenged me to visit her country and still think ill of it, was well, pretty persuasive. She touched that obstinate streak of contrariness in me that little voice that's always telling me that if I'm sure of a thing -- and everybody agrees with me -- then I'm probably wrong.

And it's nice being wrong. One of the delights of travel is finding, again and again that all your preconceptions, all the conventional wisdom, everything you thought for sure was right -- is, in fact, wrong -- or at least, far from a complete picture. Saudi Arabia, it turned out, was fun. Really!

I urge you to take a look at producer Amy Teuteberg's excellent and provocative crew blog. There's not much I can add to that (and what you see in the show) -- except to lavish even more praise on the remarkable Danya, her friends and family. It's only right, I think, that a tough, independent Western woman's perspective should be most useful and relevant when talking about what the experience was like. It is women, after all, who are denied the right to drive, who must cover themselves in public. So, wheel over to the Crew Blog as soon as you can.

I can only tell you that standard male dress in the Kingdom, the "thobe", felt surprisingly ... liberating. Walking through my hotel lobby, there was a strange relief, a comfort in looking exactly like everybody else. And superb testicular ventilation.

And if there was one really big surprise, it's that so many Saudis we met had a sense of humor. This is not what you'd expect after watching "60 Minutes" or "Dateline" or various hard news descriptions of life in the Kingdom. Fact is we met a lot of funny, good natured, very, very generous people over there. They actually had the capacity to laugh at themselves. They were all too aware of how they look to outsiders. They watch "Friends" and "Oprah" and "American Idol".

Many, many of them were educated abroad. They were scrupulously devout in their faith without being humorless. It was a flawlessly organized and executed shoot -- thanks to newcomer producer Amy, the magnificent Danya, and Dania and many friends -- and in fact, a rollicking good -- if alcohol free -- time. I think a lot of people are going to be surprised by the show.

As a final note, we will, on some snowy winter day, shoot at least part of a show in Buffalo. And Nelson Starr shall surely be our guide. Bangkok is on the horizon for the coming season. And we would be remiss if we did not have Eric Rivera, with his unique perspective and unusual access along for the ride. Plus, my wife wants to take a week or two in mui tai camp there. And just as the Phillipines are long overdue for a show, Augusto Elefanio deserves to have his dreams come true.

So with luck, everybody, as they say, is a winner.

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Colombia: Vacation Wonderland

Anthony Bourdain — Thu, 10 Jul 2008 09:38:00 -0400

It's all too common in Latin America, where the divide between rich and poor is usually very wide, to hear stark differences in outlook and attitudes at the table. When dining with the rich, the poor are often referred to with varying degrees of fear, condescension, and outright contempt. Unsurprisingly, conversations at the tables of the poor express an entirely predictable desire to see the heads of the rich paraded on stakes. Seldom do the two strata of society agree on anything beyond soccer.

So, imagine my surprise to hear--again and again--expressions of optimism, hope, good feelings, and a general belief that things were going pretty well--in Colombia. In Medellin, no less, not too long ago the murder capital of the world! In expensive restaurants frequented by the well to do, the kind of people whose cars are bulletproofed, who travel with armed drivers--and later-- in what was the toughest, poorest barrio in the city, I heard the same thing. That the government seemed to be doing a pretty damn good job, that things were getting better and better, that the future looked bright--and that it was very good thing to be Colombian, and from Medellin in particular.

In a world where the bad guys seem to win with a relentless regularity, and where even the presumed good guys appear, usually, to be their own worst enemies, it's really gratifying to see things get so dramatically better somewhere--especially a place where at one time, it really and truly looked hopeless. It is inspiring, when you've gotten used to the notion that some problems probably won't ever be fixed in your lifetime, to see some of the very worst kind of seemingly insurmountable problems so quickly and effectively improve. When you see a real change in the conditions and in the human hearts of a place where just a few short years ago, one neighbor couldn't walk twenty yards over without risking death from another, where drug cartels recruited their murderous young footsoldiers by the hundreds, where even the police feared to tread--it makes one hopeful again--about the whole world.

Colombia. Vacation Wonderland? Yes. Absolutely.

I can't think of another country where the No Reservations crew has been welcomed so enthusiastically everywhere we went. Absolutely everybody we met seemed delighted and proud that we'd come to point our cameras at them. And we were allowed and enabled, I should point out, to point them any damn where we pleased. Someone less...forgiving in temperament, less zen-like than me might feel tempted to point out to some other tourist boards the wisdom of letting us go and do whatever we want--no matter how uncomfortable the official organs might be about some of our interests--compared to the result when officialdom tries to "manage" what we see and don't see. . As it turned out, it was the uncontrollable elements, the poor fishermen, the inner city market workers, the residents of the neighborhood in Medellin with the very worst reputation who did their country most proud.

What you might not know about Colombia is that it's beautiful. That the food is really good--with the same kind of fantastic mix of African, European and indigenous influences that makes Brazilian cuisine so interesting and vibrant. That they actually like Americans down there.

It was against this backdrop of bubbly goodwill, that I watched Ingrid Betancourt and her fellow hostages freed from captivity a couple of weeks ago--in what appears to be yet another in a series of spectacular and effective strikes against the FARC, a particularly unlovely bunch of hardcore commie/narco-terrorist kidnapper/"guerillas" who've been getting knocked back on their heels in recent years.

On one hand, the government seems to be killing and capturing bad guys with skill and vigor. On the other hand, the local government in Medellin (for instance) has been improving transportation and social services for the working poor--and throwing an incredible FORTY percent of total budget at education. It looks and feels like a working combination.

As you watch the episode, the pride you see in the faces of the people I talk to--and hear in their voices--it's real.

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Very Bad Things: Blogging Top Chef

Anthony Bourdain — Wed, 28 May 2008 22:51:00 -0400

I've seen a torrent of outrage unleashed in the last week, most of it along the lines of:

"How could you send Dale home! Dale!!"

"Why not the sneering, contemptuous, less capable and unloveable Lisa?"

" Or the slippery, oleagenous Spike? He didn't even cook anything!"

"It's a fix, man! "

So what did happen? How come the more talented Dale, with a far more distinguished record of wins than his teammates, was the one to pack his knives....and...go? Lisa, it appeared, had two seriously screwed up dishes. Dale only had one!

True enough. But oh, what a one.
Dale's "Butterscotch Scallops were supremely bad. Jaw droppingly bad. So bad that there was a long, awkward moment at the table when all the judges just sat there, silent, stunned with disbelief that anyone--especially Dale--could serve something so...disgusting. It's the only time on Top Chef that I literally could not take another bite.

Dale was in deep, deep trouble from the judges' first mouthful of this luminously wretched gunk.

Lisa's laksa was screwed up. Unpleasantly smoky. But I could eat it. Her "sticky rice" dessert was awful. But not dig a hole in the ground-stick my head in--pour in Clorox bad. Like those scallops. They were distinguished by their sheer degree of awfulness, sucking everything around them down with.

Judging on Top Chef -- as has been pointed out repeatedly (most recently and succinctly by my learned colleague, Ted Allen) is on a "What Have You Cooked For Me Lately" basis. We are not supposed to care what has been achieved previously. In fact, guest judges don't even know. The shows air long after filming. So Jose Andres, for instance, can in no way be expected to know--or care--if Dale won previous challenges, deserved to win them, loves puppies and long walks on the beach--or tortures hamsters in his spare time. After deliberation, the judges were unanimous in their feeling that it was Dale who--this week--f**ked up worst.

Let it be said that of the three knuckleheads who stood in front of us on that day, Dale is probably the one I'd hire as a cook. (Given only those three to choose from.) As a fan of the show, who's been keeping up as they are aired, I think he's clearly more talented and versatile than the others on his team.

But as Dale (and anyone in the restaurant business) would be the first to tell you: Shit happens. And that day--a LOT of shit happened to poor Dale.

He had the misfortune to almost win the Quickfire. Had he lost, and not come in second, he would not have been team leader--and would not have had the additional burden of leadership.

(A burden he was ill suited to carry)

He was even more unfortunate in that he WON the coin toss, after which he made the regrettable and ultimately foolish decision to anoint himself Exec Chef. Looking around at who he had to work with, and knowing, one would hope, that he was unlikely to be able to either lead or inspire them, he could have put ego aside and stayed out of the line of fire and avoided the clusterf**k.

The Spike Strategy (and make no mistake, it was a strategy), while not to be admired, was smart.

Notice, by the way, that when Dale and Lisa asked about how things were going in the dining room, Spike lied, telling them everything was fine. He knew--believe me--otherwise. His shrug and "I dunno" when asked about the "rice buying incident" at Judge's Table is worth noting as well. He knew Dale picked the rice pudding stuff out. He just saw no reason to not keep both teammates twisting in the wind. His service in the dining room did not suck. And his rib recipe (which he, apparently, made and put on the fire but did not himself serve) was quite good. They were the best part of Mai Buddha's otherwise sorry-ass offerings.

The dumplings, by the way, though seemingly admired in the edit, were in fact kinda greasy, and unwieldy.

Chef Andres's comment that the halo-halo was something he wanted to try on his menu, reflected Andres's interest in perhaps adapting the concept of this traditional Southeast Asian dessert. It is unlikely that he and Dale will be swapping recipes anytime soon. As halo-halos go? Dale's was muddy-colored and otherwise okay at best.

Had Dale been a little more mature, a little better suited to lead...had he not fancied himself a crotch grabbing gangster genius..had he not been the sort of guy who unnecessarily calls temp waiters, hired for the DAY "assholes", then he might well have seen the wisdom in adopting Stephanie's far smarter attitude over at Team Woodstock. Note the agreement on that team that whatever happened, no one from that team was going home that week. The whole concept, the menu, the division of labor was smartly designed to achieve just that. To protect the team--as a whole. To not f**k up--or allow anyone on their team to f**k up.

Dale--with many opportunities to do otherwise, just couldn't resist trying to shine as an individual. He reached too far--with a dish he'd never even made before. And he neglected to guard his flanks.

A final note to conspiracy theorists. There is no pressure from the producers to either keep particular contestants--or send others home. In all my appearances on Top Chef, I've never seen it, never felt it. I pity any producer who'd dare suggest to Tom Colicchio that he send someone home who did not deserve it--or spare the poorest candidate for reasons of greater drama. In fact, it's his moral gravitas that makes Top Chef worth watching, in spite of all the heavy-handed product placement and occasional silly challenges.

As for me? I could give a rat's ass who the producers or Bravo want to win or not win . What I've traditionally used the Glad Family of Bags for would probably not make a good commercial. When I read the surprising announcement that Michelob, a beer I don't drink and don't much like, was going to be "sponsoring" my Bravo blog, I advised them that I felt compelled to disappoint them.

Disagree with the decision to send Dale home all you like. But you delude yourself by thinking that judging is in any way beholden to sinister outside forces--or the market place. A decision on winners or losers can and has taken hours of argument and discussion. Not this time. The best chef on that particular day, won. The worst chef--on that particular day--went home.

Of the Terrible Trio, Dale will surely have a bright career. He's generally an excellent cook. His post-loss interviews have demonstrated commendable insight into where things went wrong for him.

Lisa, who's appearance and hostile, defiant-looking posture alone seem to have made her this season's designated villain surely does not deserve the hatred and vitriol seen on blogs and websites. Nor is it likely--barring the most freakish and flukey sudden realignment of the planets and spate of untimely deaths--that she shall win Top Chef. She's a decent cook--but a lucky one.

Blaming others ain't gonna take her far.

Spike, on the other hand, can look forward to a long career.

In politics. He's perfect for it.

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