Well Seasoned
Tony Bourdain is angry -- and he's not afraid to share it with the world. He hates processed and pre-packaged foods. He loathes TV chefs who reduce classic cuisine to a series of easy to follow steps and perky soundbites. He argues for the purity of ingredients and the classicism of cultural culinary expression. But mostly he is mad at us, for allowing our taste buds to be tainted by fast food and microwaved mediocrity.
Bourdain doesn't come by his own illumination lightly. He has survived drug addiction, career struggles, and far too many cigarettes. Still, he has become one of the major forces in New York dining, and channeled his discontent into the must-read masterwork, Kitchen Confidential. This half-humorous, half-frightening expose of the restaurant industry spilled the beans about spilled beans, exposing tricks of the trade (and why no one should ever order fish on a Monday), to make readers as responsible for their unsatisfactory meals as the misguided cost-cutters preparing them.
Bourdain then took his mission to the airwaves. Back when the Food Network showcased preparations, not personalities, he undertook a multi-part worldwide quest for "the perfect meal." Entitled A Cook's Tour, it was as infamous for biting the hand that fed it (Bourdain took every opportunity he could to slam the network for Emeril Lagasse a nightly chef showcase) as for its "interesting" food finds (he once consumed the raw, still-beating heart of a snake). As the series progressed, Bourdain grew more pissed off, his onscreen personality almost seething over the corners he had to cut, and the demographics he had to appease.
It's no surprise, then, that after a tie-in book and a second season of discontent, Bourdain bid farewell to the Iron Chef's network. Now he's back on tv, and feisty as ever. No Reservations has Bourdain again traveling the world. As this is a Travel Channel presentation, our host also tosses in the occasional tip about visiting new locales (main advice: don't be a tourist), and there are more shots of buildings and boulevards than steaming plates of mussels. But what is most changed is Bourdain. Where once he seemed merely grouchy, he's now grinding his teeth in obvious indignation.
The premiere episode finds the chef in France, trying to prove to a Franco-phobic United States viewership that hatred of creamy, saucy meals (and people) is ridiculous. French food is much more than butter, duck fat and goose liver. As the chef-at-large for Les Halles Brasserie in New York City, Bourdain understands this cuisine well. And so he avoids the complex and the couture for items that resonate with true low country spirit.
As he smokes his way through the idyllic streets of the City of Lights, Bourdain explains his passions, then puts his mouth where his motives lie. His breakfasts are simple: meat and wine, bread and coffee, assorted scrumptious pastries, and his dinners are similarly delights of basic, home-style cooking. Like anyone who appreciates food's ethnic peculiarities, Bourdain champions unusual, sometimes daring items. Throughout his French journey, he enjoys organ and other variety meats, using their foundation as peasant provisions to reduce the commonly held revulsion toward such substandard cuts.
When Bourdain turns off the anger and enjoys the food, he's fabulous. His obvious love of whatever he is eating, bordering on the orgasmic in some instances, is complemented by a complete knowledge of why the food has this effect. He never dismisses a dish, even if it's not to his liking. Instead, he argues for its properties and place in a grand scheme of the gourmet. Bourdain knows better than to knock tradition or historical importance.
Besides, his every stop is like another station in a never-ending banquet. The first episode includes several jealousy-inducing moments, when our host gleefully observes racks of fresh baked sweets come steaming out of the oven, and ogles a perfectly prepared steak. Savoring the sensations of fresh ingredients well prepared, in close-up after close-up, the glint in Bourdain's eyes and his sly smile reveal all you need to know.
But Bourdain is not without his foibles. He thinks everything he says is either the wittiest joke or most cutting jibe ever conceived. That kind of smugness makes some of his shtick intolerable (like his rat-themed attack on Rocco Dispirito). And because of his long success in the business, he tends to see the culinary world in terms of absolutes that, without clarification, are lost on a non-gastronome. We never really learn the technical reason for what makes French bread the best, or why roasted wild boar is so tasty. We just have to take Bourdain's word for it.
Thankfully, No Reservations is more appreciation than aggravation. Bourdain intends to explore as many divergent dining experiences as he can. In the next couple of weeks, he will travel to Iceland to experience Norse-inspired noshes before tackling the most challenging of all chow domains -- Asbury Park, New Jersey! With both a butt and a quip poised upon his lower lip, Bourdain both enlightens and entertains. Once you get into his gourmand groove, you'll come to appreciate his persona. It's well seasoned and deeply satisfying.
— 1 August 2005
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