Anthony Bourdain: No Reservations

http://www.merryweatherjones.com/content/anthony_bourdain:_no_reservations Fri, 14 Mar 2008 05:53:08 GMT Anthony Bourdain: No Reservations Kitchen Confidential, his restaurant tell-all, is right up there with Chuck Klosterman's Sex, Drugs, and Cocoa-Puffs. I recommend both books to almost everyone I meet. What I do not recommend, are his works of fiction. Not because he's a terrible writer (he's a fine writer), but because he's a terrible thinker, with a terrible imagination, and a terrible inferiority complex. But more on that later. He comes across in his television series (Anthony Bourdain: No Reservations, Travel Channel) as being asexual, which is strange, because his "rebel" persona should demand that he effect an interest in sexual activities of a deviant nature. For him, food is sex (which tells you what sex with him would be like).<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing ="0" border="0"> <tr><td><img src="http://www.merryweatherjones.com/_img/Tony_Sex.jpg" alt="squish"></td></tr> <tr><td style="font-weight:bold" align="center">"bone in throat"</td></tr> </table> With Tony, there is no "like" or "dislike," only admiration for "peter pan" personalities, and fear and loathing for "the establishment," i.e. stable, mature adults, more interested in directed action than hallow facades. If he admired you, he would trip over his own tongue in order to ream you out with his compliments. If he feared you, he would throw snide, unfounded criticism at you like spit balls from the back of the class, runing away in a panic when you turned to see what small insect was buzzing at your back. For an example of this behavior, see the New Orleans episode of No Reservations, where he interviews Emeril Lagasse, a man he's been calling a "Shlockmeister with a catch phrase" for nearly ten years.<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing ="0" border="0"> <tr><td><img src="http://www.merryweatherjones.com/_img/emeril_wine.jpg" alt="squish"></td></tr> <tr><td style="font-weight:bold" align="center">Lagasse</td></tr> </table> The decisive difference between Emeril and Tony: Emeril was getting his people back on their feet, working in surrogate restaurants across the country after Katrina. And after the floodwaters were slowly pumped away, he got busy restoring the tradition of "authentic" Lousianna cuisine to the people left behind. Tony, on the other hand, was probably doing blow with a bus boy in one of the walk-ins at Les Halles when all this was happening. Two years later, he does a show about the aftermath of Katrina, mainly focusing on a place where a bunch of minor-league chefs (all clamboring to get his autograph) gather to get wasted and pretend to be foodies, the most important loser in a group of losers. I don't give a shit if Tony's doing drugs, drinking, smoking, fucking. What I find tedius, is the way he uses these vices as a personality crutch. I know you're a bad ass, Tony--and Rachael Ray's a dipshit (play it again). It couldn't be more obvious that Rachael Ray is not, and never has been, and never will be, a "chef" (and her face makes me want to vomit) but are you any better? You rail on vegetarians, then change your tune in the Northern Indian episode (I think; it's been a while, and episode guides for the show are nonexistent) when it's required that you dine with them, then start up again the very next episode, talking shit about them the moment you're with an audience of self-identifying omni-fundis. We all cheered when you called Sarah Jessica Parker an Icelandic pony (even though it was a mean thing to say) because it was bad ass. But would you change your tune if you were face to face with her? Yes, you would. You did it with Emeril, you did it with Mario [Batali], and you did it with the vegetarians in India. I've talked shit about Tarantino for years, and if he showed up at my door wanting a fight--I'd call the police. But I'd also tell him I stand by everything I said, including the part about him raping philipino prosititutes (because it's funny). The reason Tony can't say these things to people's faces, and why he's so desperate to win Myspace nihilists and culinary snobs (more interested in the foodie-chef lifestyle than actually cooking good food) to his side, is that he is totally uncomfortable in his own skin. He wants to be someone else, but is unwilling to do the personal exploration necessary to take him there. Instead, he opts to shanghai someone elses' persona. I kind of always knew this, but wasn't justified until the UK episode, where we are introduced to the "original" Dread Pirate Roberts: Marco Pierre White.<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing ="0" border="0"> <tr><td><img src="http://www.merryweatherjones.com/_img/marco_pierre_white.jpg" alt="squish"></td></tr> <tr><td style="font-weight:bold" align="center">White Heat</td></tr> </table> A ledgend in the culinary community, Marco Pierre White is best known for going his own way, and for being the youngest Briton, at the age of 33, to have been awarded three Michelin stars. In the UK episode, Tony credits him with being one of his major influences. And as a photo montage of this formidable personality, world-renowned chef, pirate, playboy, artist, rock star, flashes across the screen, I find the imagery strikingly familiar:<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing ="0" border="0"> <tr><td><img src="http://www.merryweatherjones.com/_img/marco_tont_1.jpg" alt="squish"></td></tr> <tr><td style="font-weight:bold" align="center">White, Bourdain</td></tr> </table> And it was easy to see who came first, and who came by it naturally. White looks as though he may not be aware that he has a cigarette hanging from his lip, and wouldn't care either way. Bourdain looks like he's using his as a prop. <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing ="0" border="0"> <tr><td><img src="http://www.merryweatherjones.com/_img/tony_marco_2.jpg" alt="squish"></td></tr> <tr><td style="font-weight:bold" align="center">Kitchen Confidential; The Devil in the Kitchen</td></tr></table> Bourdain is terribly self-conscious in this picture: see the way he hunches his shoulders, grips one arm tightly, dangling the knife in the other hand as though he's not quite sure what to do with it; like he had to steel himself before picking it up, feeling a little stupid holding such a ridiculous object. White looks confident, comfortable, solid, as if he'd been raised with a cleaver in each hand. Bourdain's imitation of White reminds me of something Orson Scott Card wrote in the Introduction to the "Author's Definitive Edition" of Ender's Game, and that was that the desire to write stories that would do for others what your favorite author had done for you was "usually expressed by producing thinly veiled rewrites of the great work." He emphasized the importance of being "inspired" and "influenced" by your favorite writers, rather than adopting their unique style as your own. But Tony never grew up, never got past that stage where you'll talk about your favorite rock band to anyone who will listen, for any reason--or for no reason, trying on costumes, trying to be someone else, because you don't yet know who you are, and you're afraid to be nobody in particular. But Tony is someone, he does have defining characteristics.<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing ="0" border="0"> <tr><td><img src="http://www.merryweatherjones.com/_img/Tony_drink.jpg" alt="squish"></td></tr> <tr><td style="font-weight:bold" align="center">Bourdain</td></tr></table> He likes eating, he likes drinking, he likes feeling important. He does not, however, like to cook. This is never more evident than in the most recent episode of No Reservations: Anthony Bourdain: Into the Fire. In the first ten minutes he remarks that he's always disliked the smell of breakfast dishes: bacon, eggs, sausage. That's because you party all night, Tony, and you feel lousy when you wake up--of course you don't like breakfast. Pavlov's dog, much? Les Halles looks like a place where they have a recipe, and a picture of what each dish should look like, and they'e making it over and over, as fast as they can, and serving it up like slop. In other words, a high class Denny's. As opposed to the style of fellow chef and friend, Eric Ripert, who is shown tasting and critiqueing dishes as they come and go in his own kitchens (something never seen in the mayhem going on in the kitchens of Les Halles). It's a clumbsy comparison, and I don't know why Bourdain makes a point of including it, as it doesn't serve his goal of "proving" to the cunts online that he's a real chef. Tony, with his juvenile sensibilities, equates chaos with productivity. At one point, he looks over at Eric (he's constantly looking over at Eric from the moment he arrives, after having disregarded the mexican line cooks throughout day) and taunts, "Difficulty breathing, chef?" then notices that he's coolly, calmly, assembling his dishes with little stress or discomfort. He's disconcerted; he says, "I haven't seen a single freakin' plate come back," and "he actually looks happy!" That's because he likes to cook, Tony. You like to feel important. Again, no excitement about his prowess as a lover. Carlos, the new head chef at Les Halles, looks pissed. I would be too if Bourdain were standing over me, half wipped dog, half condescending liberal, making such a concentrated effort at being anti-racist that his comments and behavior border on being offensively racist, basically saying: "Thank you faceless brown warrior, who I won't look in the eye." Okay, okay. I'm being cruel. I'm sorry. I love Tony, even though at this point, some of you may find that hard to believe. And I do think he's coming into his own as a person, and an icon. As always, the staff at MJA wish him all the best. Anthony Bourdain: No Reservations airs Monday nights at 10:00PM EP on the Travel Channel Anthony Bourdain, Marco Pierre White, Emeril Lagasse http://www.merryweatherjones.com/content/anthony_bourdain:_no_reservations http://www.merryweatherjones.com/viewcomments.php?articleid=161