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Skydive com Anthony Bourdain

Skydive com Anthony Bourdain


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Ou faça rafting em corredeiras com Spike Mendelsohn

Se você tem $ 10.000 sobrando, esta é sua chance de saltar de paraquedas com o aventureiro Anthony Bourdain.

Gilt City de Nova York está oferecendo uma chance para um "experiência de salto duplo"e hambúrgueres e cerveja com Bourdain, como parte de uma arrecadação de fundos para o Food Bank For New York City. O comprador recebe uma aula de Skydivers Acima dos Poconos, um salto e jantar, tudo por US $ 10.000 (o que dificilmente é comparável ao Etiqueta de preço de $ 224 no site de paraquedismo).

Se for muito caro, também há um encontro de patinação no gelo com Anne Burrell ($ 1.000), um viagem de rafting com Spike Mendelsohn ($ 2.000) e outras coisas que não são tão incríveis quanto mergulhar com Bourdain. Mas não diríamos não a um assento em Mesa do chef SD26.

O Byte Diário é uma coluna regular dedicada a cobrir notícias e tendências gastronômicas interessantes em todo o país. Clique aqui para as colunas anteriores.


Como foi comer com Anthony Bourdain

Tony não o teria julgado por comer um hambúrguer na cama do hotel.

Ocasionalmente, me perguntam: & quotComo foi comer e viajar com Tony Bourdain? & Quot

Como seu assistente e coautor, visitei vários sets de filmagem de Tony & aposs em todo o mundo, mas só comi diante das câmeras com ele uma vez, no Aqueduct Racetrack, em Queens, Nova York, onde moro. Enquanto observávamos os cavalos, bebíamos cerveja doméstica comum em copos de plástico vacilantes e comíamos os mesmos hambúrgueres de carne bovina jamaicana picantes, saborosos, quase certamente produzidos em massa, congelados e cozidos no micro-ondas ou fritos, que você pode encontrar em qualquer supermercado ou Nova Refeitório da escola pública da cidade de York. Claramente, comida memorável não era o ponto da cena, mas nós realmente gostamos daqueles hambúrgueres de carne, que acabaram sendo memoráveis ​​como a coisa certa para aquele contexto: uma almofada de bebida salgada e crocante, mas suave, comida com uma mão enquanto a outra bate uma forma de corrida enrolada contra a grade. & # xA0

É claro que, às vezes, comer e viajar com Tony era exatamente tão decadente quanto você poderia esperar. Enquanto em São Francisco para promover nosso livro de receitas, Apetites, ele me enviou em uma caça ao tesouro extremamente ostentosa por uma refeição de caranguejo Dungeness, além de caviar, creme de leite, cebola roxa, batatas fritas salgadas e champanhe gelado para ser servido na noite seguinte à nossa pequena comitiva quando partimos de jato particular para Denver, a última parada da turnê do livro. Ele pediu perfeição explicitamente. & quotPergunte-se & quot, ele disse, & quot Jeremiah Tower aprovaria? & quot & quot & # xA0

No Vietnã, eu andei atrás dele em uma scooter, inclinando-me suavemente nas curvas enquanto ele navegava pelas ruas e avenidas do centro de Hu & # x1EBF, entre o silencioso e luxuoso hotel colonial antigo e o animado e lotado mercado Dong Ba. Fomos lá para uma tigela de B & # xFAn b & # xF2 Hu & # x1EBF, cozinhada por uma mulher chamada Kim Chau, que fazia isso no mesmo lugar, da mesma maneira, há décadas.

Em sua narração na TV, Tony chamou B & # xFAn b & # xF2 Hu & # x1EBF & quota de maravilha de sabor e textura, a maior sopa do mundo. pernil de carne, bolinhos de caranguejo, macarrão de arroz, flores de banana raladas, molho de pimenta ardente e um retângulo rico e instável de sangue de porco gelatinizado de huy & # x1EBFt & # x2014. Eu me amontoei fora da vista do diretor e do produtor enquanto Tony sorvia sua sopa para a câmera. Assim que a cena foi encerrada, ele pediu uma tigela para mim, e eu comi, empoleirado em um banquinho, puxado para cima de um balcão de alumínio surrado, enquanto eu comprava e vendia vegetais e roupas e pratos e temperos e peixes e carne e incenso e flores ao nosso redor. & # xA0

Persiste o mito sobre Tony de que, sempre que ele estava com fome & # x2014 e, neste mito, ele sempre estava com fome & # x2014 ele iria, sem falta, procurar o melhor, mais & quot autêntico & quot, o prato mais intenso e mais atraente, onde quer que estivesse no mundo. & # xA0

Como acontece com qualquer mito, é baseado na verdade. O homem amava seu Pho, hotpot e sushi perfeito e cada parte de cada porco, e ele adorava compartilhar esse amor. E, devido a algumas das bravatas indeléveis de seus primeiros episódios de televisão, Tony ficou conhecido como o cara com durian e olhos de foca e reto javali no prato. Esses tipos de extremos tornam a televisão boa e memorável. Afinal, especialmente quando você está começando no médium, você não tem nada a perder e tudo a ganhar por se tornar conhecido como o cara que comeu o coração de cobra que batia.

O que pode ter passado despercebido foi a sua capacidade de se deliciar nas coisas mais simples, num momento não filmado, sobretudo pela quantidade de mundo que viu e provou. Por exemplo, enquanto estávamos no Japão, Tony e eu pegamos um Shinkansen de Kanazawa para Tóquio, enquanto a equipe (e suas dezenas de caixas de equipamentos fotográficos) fez a viagem de van. & # XA0

Enquanto subíamos pela escada rolante até a plataforma, Tony avistou uma máquina de venda automática típica, mas exclusivamente japonesa, abastecida com dezenas de variedades de bebidas de café em lata quentes e frias, a alguns metros de distância. Ele disparou em direção a ela, puxando a mala com uma das mãos e procurando moedas no bolso da jaqueta com a outra. Ele estava naquele momento tão consumido por seu desejo pela novidade do café enlatado, estampado por algum motivo com o rosto de Tommy Lee Jones, e aquecido ao pedido pela máquina, que felizmente não percebeu que sua passagem de trem de papel esvoaçava de seu bolso no chão da plataforma, dançando assustadoramente perto da borda dos trilhos na brisa do início da primavera. & # xA0

Teria valido a pena perder o trem para Tóquio, a fim de desfrutar da novidade de uma bebida francamente metálica e de revirar o estômago? Felizmente, nós dois fomos rápidos em nossos pés & # x2014him até a máquina, eu para perseguir a passagem aérea & # x2014 e não tivemos que descobrir.

Compartilhei aqui as experiências mais triviais de hambúrgueres de carne e café enlatado, junto com tigelas de macarrão em um mercado vietnamita e caviar em um jato particular para aqueles que, ao viajar, podem estar deixando aquela versão miticamente aventureira e voraz de Tony Bourdain moram em suas cabeças, como dizem as crianças, sem pagar aluguel. Eu sei que já estive lá & # x2014despendi muito tempo e dinheiro para chegar a algum lugar distante, e nos momentos de estar com muita fome ou cansado ou oprimido para ir em busca de & quotthe coisa & quot, eu senti vergonha de meu próprio desejo decepcionante de comer um saco de batatas fritas na cama. O que Tony pensaria? & # XA0

Então me lembro que não estou na televisão, ninguém se importa com o que estou comendo em um momento privado e que talvez depois de uma soneca, eu me sinta pronto para a aventura. E me lembro de um ponto alto de minha viagem com Tony no Sri Lanka. & # XA0 & # xA0

Estávamos em um carro em Jaffna, na parte norte do país insular, tendo acabado de encerrar uma longa e quente sessão de fotos no Festival de Madai, que continuaria até tarde da noite. & # XA0 & # xA0

“Por aqui”, disse Tony na narração, “o festival de Madai quotthe é o dia mais auspicioso do ano para os hindus equilibrarem suas dívidas espirituais. Os crentes mostram devoção através do sofrimento de atos duradouros de grande dor e sofrimento chamados Kavadis, ou as dívidas de fardo. & Quot

Havia rapazes suspensos por ganchos na carne, pendurados em guindastes enfeitados com frutas e flores, moças andando com sapatos com pregos cravados nas palmilhas, enquanto outros tocavam instrumentos de percussão, cantando e dançando em estado de intenso êxtase religioso. Assisti ao espetáculo sagrado se desenrolar pela janela do carro & # x2014 e olhei para ver Tony com o rosto enterrado no fundo do telefone. Ele estava tentando descobrir se havia um KFC a uma curta distância do hotel. Não havia muito mais do que alguns punhados de arroz cozido disponíveis nas longas horas de preparação e filmagem do rolo B antes do início da procissão, e ele sabia que sua tripulação estava com calor, com fome e muito longe de casa.

No KFC, esperei entre grupos de moradores para pedir alguns baldes e, no telhado do hotel, juntamos algumas mesas e cadeiras e comemos frango e biscoitos de fast food decididamente ocidental e ouvimos Tony e os membros da equipe e histórias hilariantes da estrada. Ele parecia relaxado, feliz e satisfeito por alimentar e divertir seus amigos. Também era assim que era comer e viajar com Tony.

Pedido antecipado Viagem pelo mundo: um guia irreverente por Anthony Bourdain e Laurie Woolever (ECCO, 20 de abril de 2021)


Como foi comer com Anthony Bourdain

Tony não o teria julgado por comer um hambúrguer na cama do hotel.

Ocasionalmente, me perguntam: & quotComo foi comer e viajar com Tony Bourdain? & Quot

Como seu assistente e coautor, visitei vários sets de filmagem de Tony & aposs em todo o mundo, mas só comi diante das câmeras com ele uma vez, no Aqueduct Racetrack, em Queens, Nova York, onde moro. Enquanto observávamos os cavalos, bebemos cerveja doméstica comum em copos de plástico vacilantes e comemos os mesmos hambúrgueres de carne jamaicana picantes, saborosos, quase certamente produzidos em massa, congelados e cozidos no micro-ondas ou fritos, que você pode encontrar em qualquer mercearia ou Nova Refeitório da escola pública da cidade de York. Claramente, comida memorável não era o ponto principal da cena, mas nós realmente gostamos daqueles hambúrgueres de carne, que acabaram sendo memoráveis ​​como a coisa certa para aquele contexto: uma almofada de bebida salgada, crocante, mas suave, comida com uma mão enquanto a outra bate uma forma de corrida enrolada contra a grade. & # xA0

É claro que, às vezes, comer e viajar com Tony era exatamente tão decadente quanto você poderia esperar. Enquanto em São Francisco para promover nosso livro de receitas, Apetites, ele me enviou em uma caça ao tesouro extremamente ostentosa por uma refeição de caranguejo Dungeness, além de caviar, creme de leite, cebola roxa, batatas fritas salgadas e champanhe gelado para ser servido na noite seguinte à nossa pequena comitiva quando partimos de jato particular para Denver, a última parada da turnê do livro. Ele pediu perfeição explicitamente. & quotPergunte-se & quot, ele disse, & quot Jeremiah Tower aprovaria? & quot & quot & # xA0

No Vietnã, eu andei atrás dele em uma scooter, inclinando-me suavemente nas curvas enquanto ele navegava pelas ruas e avenidas do centro de Hu & # x1EBF, entre o silencioso e luxuoso hotel colonial antigo e o animado e lotado mercado Dong Ba. Fomos lá para uma tigela de B & # xFAn b & # xF2 Hu & # x1EBF, cozinhada por uma mulher chamada Kim Chau, que fazia isso no mesmo lugar, da mesma maneira, há décadas.

Em sua narração na TV, Tony chamou B & # xFAn b & # xF2 Hu & # x1EBF & quota de maravilha de sabor e textura, a maior sopa do mundo. pernil de carne, bolinhos de caranguejo, macarrão de arroz, flores de banana desfiadas, molho de pimenta ardente e um retângulo rico e instável de sangue de porco gelatinizado de huy & # x1EBFt & # x2014. Eu me amontoei fora da vista do diretor e do produtor enquanto Tony sorvia sua sopa para a câmera. Assim que a cena foi encerrada, ele pediu uma tigela para mim, e eu comi, empoleirado em um banquinho, puxado para cima de um balcão de alumínio surrado, enquanto eu comprava e vendia vegetais e roupas e pratos e temperos e peixes e carne e incenso e flores ao nosso redor. & # xA0

Persiste um mito sobre Tony de que, sempre que ele estava com fome & # x2014 e neste mito, ele sempre estava com fome & # x2014 ele iria, sem falta, procurar o melhor, mais & quotutentic, & quot mais intenso, o prato que mais chama a atenção, onde quer que ele esteja no mundo. & # xA0

Como acontece com qualquer mito, é baseado na verdade. O homem amava seu Pho, hotpot, sushi perfeito e cada parte de cada porco, e adorava compartilhar esse amor. E, devido a algumas das bravatas indeléveis de seus primeiros episódios de televisão, Tony ficou conhecido como o cara com durian e olhos de foca e reto javali no prato. Esses tipos de extremos tornam a televisão boa e memorável. Afinal, especialmente quando você está começando no médium, você não tem nada a perder e tudo a ganhar por se tornar conhecido como o cara que comeu o coração de cobra que batia.

O que pode ter passado despercebido foi a sua capacidade de se deliciar nas coisas mais simples, num momento não filmado, sobretudo pela quantidade de mundo que viu e provou. Por exemplo, enquanto estávamos no Japão, Tony e eu pegamos um Shinkansen de Kanazawa para Tóquio, enquanto a equipe (e suas dezenas de caixas de equipamentos fotográficos) fez a viagem de van. & # XA0

Enquanto subíamos pela escada rolante até a plataforma, Tony avistou uma máquina de venda automática típica, mas exclusivamente japonesa, abastecida com dezenas de variedades de bebidas de café em lata quentes e frias, a alguns metros de distância. Ele disparou em direção a ela, puxando a mala com uma das mãos e procurando moedas no bolso da jaqueta com a outra. Ele estava naquele momento tão consumido por seu desejo pela novidade do café enlatado, estampado por algum motivo com o rosto de Tommy Lee Jones, e aquecido ao pedido pela máquina, que felizmente não percebeu que sua passagem de trem de papel esvoaçava de seu bolso no chão da plataforma, dançando assustadoramente perto da borda dos trilhos na brisa do início da primavera. & # xA0

Teria valido a pena perder o trem para Tóquio, a fim de desfrutar da novidade de uma bebida francamente metálica e de revirar o estômago? Felizmente, nós dois fomos rápidos em nossos pés & # x2014him até a máquina, eu para perseguir a passagem aérea & # x2014 e não tivemos que descobrir.

Compartilhei aqui as experiências mais triviais de hambúrgueres de carne e café enlatado, junto com tigelas de macarrão em um mercado vietnamita e caviar em um jato particular para aqueles que, ao viajar, podem estar deixando aquela versão miticamente aventureira e voraz de Tony Bourdain moram em suas cabeças, como dizem as crianças, sem pagar aluguel. Eu sei que já estive lá & # x2014despendi muito tempo e dinheiro para chegar a algum lugar distante, e em momentos de estar com muita fome ou cansado ou oprimido para ir em busca de & quotthe coisa & quot, eu senti vergonha de meu próprio desejo decepcionante de comer um saco de batatas fritas na cama. O que Tony pensaria? & # XA0

Então me lembro que não estou na televisão, ninguém se importa com o que estou comendo em um momento privado e que talvez depois de uma soneca, eu me sinta pronto para a aventura. E lembro-me de um destaque de viajar com Tony no Sri Lanka. & # XA0 & # xA0

Estávamos em um carro em Jaffna, na parte norte do país insular, tendo acabado de encerrar uma longa e quente sessão de fotos no Festival de Madai, que continuaria até tarde da noite. & # XA0 & # xA0

“Por aqui”, disse Tony na narração, “o festival de Madai quotthe é o dia mais auspicioso do ano para os hindus equilibrarem suas dívidas espirituais. Os crentes mostram devoção através do sofrimento de atos duradouros de grande dor e sofrimento chamados Kavadis, ou as dívidas de fardo. & Quot

Havia rapazes suspensos por ganchos na carne, pendurados em guindastes enfeitados com frutas e flores, moças andando com sapatos com pregos cravados nas palmilhas, enquanto outros tocavam instrumentos de percussão, cantando e dançando em estado de intenso êxtase religioso. Assisti ao espetáculo sagrado se desenrolar pela janela do carro & # x2014 e olhei para ver Tony com o rosto enterrado no fundo do telefone. Ele estava tentando descobrir se havia um KFC a uma curta distância do hotel. Não havia muito mais do que alguns punhados de arroz cozido disponíveis nas longas horas de preparação e filmagem do rolo B antes do início da procissão, e ele sabia que sua tripulação estava com calor, com fome e muito longe de casa.

No KFC, esperei entre grupos de moradores para pedir alguns baldes e, no telhado do hotel, juntamos algumas mesas e cadeiras e comemos frango e biscoitos decididamente ocidentais de fast food e ouvimos Tony e os membros da equipe e histórias hilariantes da estrada. Ele parecia relaxado, feliz e satisfeito por alimentar e divertir seus amigos. Também era assim que era comer e viajar com Tony.

Pedido antecipado Viagem pelo mundo: um guia irreverente por Anthony Bourdain e Laurie Woolever (ECCO, 20 de abril de 2021)


Como foi comer com Anthony Bourdain

Tony não o teria julgado por comer um hambúrguer na cama do hotel.

Ocasionalmente, me perguntam: & quotComo foi comer e viajar com Tony Bourdain? & Quot

Como seu assistente e coautor, visitei vários sets de filmagem de Tony & aposs em todo o mundo, mas só comi diante das câmeras com ele uma vez, no Aqueduct Racetrack, em Queens, Nova York, onde moro. Enquanto observávamos os cavalos, bebíamos cerveja doméstica comum em copos de plástico vacilantes e comíamos os mesmos hambúrgueres de carne jamaicana picantes, saborosos, quase certamente produzidos em massa, congelados e cozidos no micro-ondas ou fritos, que você pode encontrar em qualquer mercearia ou Nova Refeitório da escola pública da cidade de York. Claramente, comida memorável não era o ponto principal da cena, mas nós realmente gostamos daqueles hambúrgueres de carne, que acabaram sendo memoráveis ​​como a coisa certa para aquele contexto: uma almofada de bebida salgada, crocante, mas suave, comida com uma mão enquanto a outra bate uma forma de corrida enrolada contra a grade. & # xA0

É claro que, às vezes, comer e viajar com Tony era exatamente tão decadente quanto você poderia esperar. Enquanto em São Francisco para promover nosso livro de receitas, Apetites, ele me enviou em uma caça ao tesouro extremamente ostentosa por uma refeição de caranguejo Dungeness, além de caviar, creme de leite, cebola roxa, batatas fritas salgadas e champanhe gelado para ser servido na noite seguinte à nossa pequena comitiva quando partimos de jato particular para Denver, a última parada da turnê do livro. Ele pediu perfeição explicitamente. & quotPergunte-se & quot, ele disse, & quot Jeremiah Tower aprovaria? & quot & quot & # xA0

No Vietnã, eu andei atrás dele em uma scooter, inclinando-me suavemente nas curvas enquanto ele navegava pelas ruas e avenidas do centro de Hu & # x1EBF, entre o silencioso e luxuoso hotel colonial antigo e o animado e lotado mercado Dong Ba. Fomos lá para uma tigela de B & # xFAn b & # xF2 Hu & # x1EBF, cozinhada por uma mulher chamada Kim Chau, que fazia isso no mesmo lugar, da mesma maneira, há décadas.

Em sua narração na TV, Tony chamou B & # xFAn b & # xF2 Hu & # x1EBF & quota de maravilha de sabor e textura, a maior sopa do mundo. pernil de carne, bolinhos de caranguejo, macarrão de arroz, flores de banana raladas, molho de pimenta ardente e um retângulo rico e instável de sangue de porco gelatinizado de huy & # x1EBFt & # x2014. Eu me amontoei fora da vista do diretor e do produtor enquanto Tony sorvia sua sopa para a câmera. Assim que a cena foi encerrada, ele pediu uma tigela para mim, e eu comi, empoleirado em um banquinho, puxado para cima de um balcão de alumínio surrado, enquanto eu comprava e vendia vegetais e roupas e pratos e temperos e peixes e carne e incenso e flores ao nosso redor. & # xA0

Persiste um mito sobre Tony de que, sempre que ele estava com fome & # x2014 e neste mito, ele sempre estava com fome & # x2014 ele iria, sem falta, procurar o melhor, mais & quotutentic, & quot mais intenso, o prato que mais chama a atenção, onde quer que ele esteja no mundo. & # xA0

Como acontece com qualquer mito, é baseado na verdade. O homem amava seu Pho, hotpot e sushi perfeito e cada parte de cada porco, e ele adorava compartilhar esse amor. E, devido a algumas das bravatas indeléveis de seus primeiros episódios de televisão, Tony ficou conhecido como o cara com durian e olhos de foca e reto javali no prato. Esses tipos de extremos tornam a televisão boa e memorável. Afinal, especialmente quando você está começando no médium, você não tem nada a perder e tudo a ganhar por se tornar conhecido como o cara que comeu o coração de cobra que batia.

O que pode ter passado despercebido foi a sua capacidade de se deliciar nas coisas mais simples, num momento não filmado, sobretudo pela quantidade de mundo que viu e provou. Por exemplo, enquanto estávamos no Japão, Tony e eu pegamos um Shinkansen de Kanazawa para Tóquio, enquanto a equipe (e suas dezenas de caixas de equipamentos fotográficos) fez a viagem de van. & # XA0

Enquanto subíamos pela escada rolante até a plataforma, Tony avistou uma máquina de venda automática típica, mas exclusivamente japonesa, abastecida com dezenas de variedades de bebidas de café em lata quentes e frias, a alguns metros de distância. Ele disparou em direção a ela, puxando a mala com uma das mãos e procurando moedas no bolso da jaqueta com a outra. Ele estava naquele momento tão consumido por seu desejo pela novidade do café enlatado, estampado por algum motivo com o rosto de Tommy Lee Jones, e aquecido ao pedido pela máquina, que felizmente não percebeu sua passagem de trem de papel esvoaçando de seu bolso no chão da plataforma, dançando assustadoramente perto da borda dos trilhos na brisa do início da primavera. & # xA0

Teria valido a pena perder o trem para Tóquio, a fim de desfrutar da novidade de uma bebida francamente metálica e de revirar o estômago? Felizmente, nós dois fomos rápidos em nossos pés & # x2014him até a máquina, eu para perseguir a passagem aérea & # x2014 e não tivemos que descobrir.

Compartilhei aqui as experiências mais triviais de hambúrgueres de carne e café enlatado, junto com tigelas de macarrão em um mercado vietnamita e caviar em um jato particular para aqueles que, ao viajar, podem estar deixando aquela versão miticamente aventureira e voraz de Tony Bourdain moram em suas cabeças, como dizem as crianças, sem pagar aluguel. Eu sei que já estive lá & # x2014despendi muito tempo e dinheiro para chegar a algum lugar distante, e nos momentos de estar com muita fome ou cansado ou oprimido para ir em busca de & quotthe coisa & quot, eu senti vergonha de meu próprio desejo decepcionante de comer um saco de batatas fritas na cama. O que Tony pensaria? & # XA0

Então me lembro que não estou na televisão, ninguém liga para o que estou comendo em um momento privado e que talvez depois de uma soneca, eu me sinta pronto para a aventura. E lembro-me de um destaque de viajar com Tony no Sri Lanka. & # XA0 & # xA0

Estávamos em um carro em Jaffna, na parte norte do país insular, tendo acabado de encerrar uma longa e quente sessão de fotos no Festival de Madai, que continuaria até tarde da noite. & # XA0 & # xA0

“Por aqui”, disse Tony na narração, “o festival de Madai quotthe é o dia mais auspicioso do ano para os hindus equilibrarem suas dívidas espirituais. Os crentes mostram devoção através do sofrimento de atos duradouros de grande dor e sofrimento chamados Kavadis, ou as dívidas de fardo. & Quot

Havia rapazes suspensos por ganchos na carne, pendurados em guindastes enfeitados com frutas e flores, moças andando com sapatos com pregos cravados nas palmilhas, enquanto outros tocavam instrumentos de percussão, cantando e dançando em estado de intenso êxtase religioso. Assisti ao espetáculo sagrado se desenrolar pela janela do carro & # x2014 e olhei para ver Tony com o rosto enterrado no fundo do telefone. Ele estava tentando descobrir se havia um KFC a uma curta distância do hotel. Não havia muito mais do que alguns punhados de arroz cozido disponíveis nas longas horas de preparação e filmagem do rolo B antes do início da procissão, e ele sabia que sua tripulação estava com calor, com fome e muito longe de casa.

No KFC, esperei entre grupos de moradores para pedir alguns baldes e, no telhado do hotel, juntamos algumas mesas e cadeiras e comemos frango e biscoitos de fast food decididamente ocidental e ouvimos Tony e os membros da equipe e histórias hilariantes da estrada. Ele parecia relaxado, feliz e satisfeito por alimentar e divertir seus amigos. Também era assim que era comer e viajar com Tony.

Pedido antecipado Viagem pelo mundo: um guia irreverente por Anthony Bourdain e Laurie Woolever (ECCO, 20 de abril de 2021)


Como foi comer com Anthony Bourdain

Tony não o teria julgado por comer um hambúrguer na cama do hotel.

Ocasionalmente, me perguntam: & quotComo foi comer e viajar com Tony Bourdain? & Quot

Como seu assistente e coautor, visitei vários sets de filmagem de Tony & aposs em todo o mundo, mas só comi diante das câmeras com ele uma vez, no Aqueduct Racetrack, em Queens, Nova York, onde moro. Enquanto observávamos os cavalos, bebíamos cerveja doméstica comum em copos de plástico vacilantes e comíamos os mesmos hambúrgueres de carne jamaicana picantes, saborosos, quase certamente produzidos em massa, congelados e cozidos no micro-ondas ou fritos, que você pode encontrar em qualquer mercearia ou Nova Refeitório da escola pública da cidade de York. Claramente, comida memorável não era o ponto principal da cena, mas nós realmente gostamos daqueles hambúrgueres de carne, que acabaram sendo memoráveis ​​como a coisa certa para aquele contexto: uma almofada de bebida salgada, crocante, mas suave, comida com uma mão enquanto a outra bate uma forma de corrida enrolada contra a grade. & # xA0

É claro que, às vezes, comer e viajar com Tony era exatamente tão decadente quanto você poderia esperar. Enquanto em São Francisco para promover nosso livro de receitas, Apetites, ele me enviou em uma caça ao tesouro extremamente ostentosa para uma refeição de caranguejo Dungeness, além de caviar, creme de leite, cebola roxa, batatas fritas salgadas e champanhe gelado para ser servido na noite seguinte para nossa pequena comitiva quando partimos de jato particular para Denver, a última parada da turnê do livro. Ele pediu perfeição explicitamente. & quotPergunte a si mesmo & quot, disse ele, & quot Jeremiah Tower aprovaria? & quot & quot & # xA0

No Vietnã, andei atrás dele em uma scooter, inclinando-me suavemente nas curvas enquanto ele navegava pelas ruas e avenidas do centro de Hu & # x1EBF, entre o silencioso e luxuoso hotel colonial antigo e o animado e lotado mercado Dong Ba. Fomos lá para uma tigela de B & # xFAn b & # xF2 Hu & # x1EBF, cozinhada por uma mulher chamada Kim Chau, que fazia isso no mesmo lugar, da mesma maneira, há décadas.

Em sua narração na TV, Tony chamou B & # xFAn b & # xF2 Hu & # x1EBF & quota de maravilha de sabor e textura, a maior sopa do mundo. pernil de carne, bolinhos de caranguejo, macarrão de arroz, flores de banana raladas, molho de pimenta ardente e um retângulo rico e instável de sangue de porco gelatinizado de huy & # x1EBFt & # x2014. Eu me amontoei fora da vista do diretor e do produtor enquanto Tony sorvia sua sopa para a câmera. Assim que a cena foi encerrada, ele pediu uma tigela para mim, e eu a comi, empoleirado em um banquinho, puxado até um balcão de alumínio surrado, enquanto eu comprava e vendia vegetais e roupas e pratos e temperos e peixes e carne e incenso e flores ao nosso redor. & # xA0

Persiste um mito sobre Tony de que, sempre que ele estava com fome & # x2014 e neste mito, ele sempre estava com fome & # x2014 ele iria, sem falta, procurar o melhor, mais & quotutentic, & quot mais intenso, o prato que mais chama a atenção, onde quer que ele esteja no mundo. & # xA0

Como acontece com qualquer mito, é baseado na verdade. O homem amava seu Pho, hotpot, sushi perfeito e cada parte de cada porco, e adorava compartilhar esse amor. E, devido a algumas das bravatas indeléveis de seus primeiros episódios de televisão, Tony ficou conhecido como o cara com durian e olhos de foca e reto javali no prato. Esses tipos de extremos tornam a televisão boa e memorável. Afinal, especialmente quando você está começando no médium, você não tem nada a perder e tudo a ganhar por se tornar conhecido como o cara que comeu o coração de cobra que batia.

O que pode ter passado despercebido foi a sua capacidade de se deliciar nas coisas mais simples, num momento não filmado, sobretudo tendo em conta o quanto do mundo viu e provou. Por exemplo, enquanto estávamos no Japão, Tony e eu pegamos um Shinkansen de Kanazawa para Tóquio, enquanto a equipe (e suas dezenas de caixas de equipamentos fotográficos) fez a viagem de van. & # XA0

Enquanto subíamos pela escada rolante até a plataforma, Tony avistou uma máquina de venda automática típica, mas exclusivamente japonesa, abastecida com dezenas de variedades de bebidas de café em lata quentes e frias, a alguns metros de distância. Ele disparou em direção a ela, puxando a mala com uma das mãos e procurando moedas no bolso da jaqueta com a outra. Ele estava naquele momento tão consumido por seu desejo pela novidade do café enlatado, estampado por algum motivo com o rosto de Tommy Lee Jones, e aquecido ao pedido pela máquina, que ele estava felizmente inconsciente de sua passagem de trem de papel esvoaçando de seu bolso no chão da plataforma, dançando enjoativamente perto da borda dos trilhos na brisa do início da primavera. & # xA0

Teria valido a pena perder o trem para Tóquio, a fim de desfrutar da novidade de uma bebida francamente metálica e de revirar o estômago? Felizmente, nós dois fomos rápidos em nossos pés & # x2014him até a máquina, eu para perseguir a passagem aérea & # x2014 e não tivemos que descobrir.

Compartilhei aqui as experiências mais triviais de hambúrgueres de carne e café em lata, junto com tigelas de macarrão em um mercado vietnamita e caviar em um jato particular para aqueles que, ao viajar, podem estar deixando aquela versão miticamente aventureira e voraz de Tony Bourdain moram em suas cabeças, como dizem as crianças, sem pagar aluguel. Eu sei que já estive lá & # x2014despendi muito tempo e dinheiro para chegar a algum lugar distante, e nos momentos de estar com muita fome ou cansado ou oprimido para ir em busca de & quotthe coisa & quot, eu senti vergonha de meu próprio desejo decepcionante de comer um saco de batatas fritas na cama. O que Tony pensaria? & # XA0

Então me lembro que não estou na televisão, ninguém liga para o que estou comendo em um momento privado e que talvez depois de uma soneca, eu me sinta pronto para a aventura. E lembro-me de um destaque de viajar com Tony no Sri Lanka. & # XA0 & # xA0

Estávamos em um carro em Jaffna, na parte norte do país insular, tendo acabado de encerrar uma longa e quente sessão de fotos no Festival de Madai, que continuaria até tarde da noite. & # XA0 & # xA0

“Por aqui”, disse Tony na narração, “quotthe Madai Festival é o dia mais auspicioso do ano para os hindus equilibrarem suas dívidas espirituais. Os crentes mostram devoção através do sofrimento de atos duradouros de grande dor e sofrimento chamados Kavadis, ou as dívidas de fardo. & Quot

Havia rapazes suspensos por ganchos na carne, pendurados em guindastes enfeitados com frutas e flores, moças andando com sapatos com pregos cravados nas palmilhas, enquanto outros tocavam instrumentos de percussão, cantando e dançando em estado de intenso êxtase religioso. Assisti ao espetáculo sagrado se desenrolar pela janela do carro & # x2014 e olhei para ver Tony com o rosto enterrado no fundo do telefone. Ele estava tentando descobrir se havia um KFC a uma curta distância do hotel. Não havia muito mais do que alguns punhados de arroz cozido disponíveis nas longas horas de preparação e filmagem do rolo B antes do início da procissão, e ele sabia que sua tripulação estava com calor, com fome e muito longe de casa.

No KFC, esperei entre grupos de moradores para pedir alguns baldes e, no telhado do hotel, juntamos algumas mesas e cadeiras e comemos frango e biscoitos decididamente ocidentais de fast food e ouvimos Tony e os membros da equipe e histórias hilariantes da estrada. Ele parecia relaxado, feliz e satisfeito por alimentar e divertir seus amigos. Também era assim que era comer e viajar com Tony.

Pedido antecipado World Travel: An Irreverent Guide by Anthony Bourdain and Laurie Woolever (ECCO, April 20. 2021)


What It Was Like to Eat with Anthony Bourdain

Tony wouldn't have judged you for eating a hamburger in your hotel bed.

I am occasionally asked, "What was it like to eat and travel with Tony Bourdain?"

As his assistant and co-author, I visited various of Tony&aposs filming sets around the world, but only ate on camera with him once, at Aqueduct Racetrack, in Queens, New York, where I live. While we watched the horses, we drank unremarkable domestic beer from wobbly plastic cups and ate the same spicy, savory, almost certainly mass-produced, frozen, and microwaved or deep-fried Jamaican beef patties that you can find in any grocery store or New York City public school cafeteria. Clearly, memorable food wasn&apost the point of the scene, but we really enjoyed those beef patties, which ended up being memorable as the right thing for that context: a salty, crisp-yet-soft booze cushion, eaten with one hand while the other smacks a rolled-up racing form against the rail. 

Of course at times, eating and traveling with Tony was exactly as decadent as you might expect. While in San Francisco to promote our cookbook, Appetites, he sent me on an extremely swanky scavenger hunt for a meal of Dungeness crab, plus caviar, sour cream, red onion, salty potato chips, and chilled Champagne to be served the following night to our small entourage as we departed via private jet to Denver, the final stop of book tour. He explicitly requested perfection. "Ask yourself," he said, "would Jeremiah Tower approve?" 

In Vietnam, I rode behind him on a scooter, gently leaning into the turns as he navigated the streets and avenues of central Huế, between the hushed, luxurious, old colonial hotel and the lively, crowded Dong Ba market. We were there for a bowl of Bún bò Huế, cooked by a woman named Kim Chau, who had been doing it in the same place, in the same way, for decades.

In his TV voiceover, Tony called Bún bò Huế "a wonder of flavor and texture, the greatest soup in the world." Chau&aposs broth was a meaty, spicy, deeply funky, and pleasant thing, within which bobbed tender beef shank, crab dumplings, rice noodles, shredded banana blossoms, fiery chili sauce, and one rich, wobbly rectangle of huyết—gelatinized pig&aposs blood. I huddled out of view with the director and producer while Tony slurped his soup on camera. Once the scene was wrapped, he ordered a bowl for me, and I ate it, perched on a stool, pulled up to a battered aluminum counter, while the buying and selling of vegetables and clothing and dishes and spices and fish and meat and incense and flowers carried on all around us. 

There persists a myth about Tony that, whenever he was hungry𠅊nd in this myth, he was always hungry—he would, without fail, seek out the best, most "authentic," most intense, most attention-seeking dish, anywhere he was in the world. 

As with any myth, it&aposs based on truth. The man loved his pho and hotpot and perfect sushi and every part of every pig, and he loved to share that love. And, owing to some of the indelible bravado of his earliest episodes of television, Tony became known as the guy with durian and seal eyeballs and warthog rectum on his plate. These kinds of extremes make for good and memorable television. After all, especially when you&aposre first starting out in the medium, you have nothing to lose, and everything to gain by becoming known as the guy who ate the beating cobra heart.

What may have gone unnoticed was his capacity to delight in the simplest things, in an un-filmed moment, especially given how much of the world he had seen and tasted. For instance, while in Japan, Tony and I took a Shinkansen from Kanazawa to Tokyo, while the crew (and their dozens of cases of camera equipment) made the trip by van. 

As we ascended by escalator to the platform, Tony spotted a typical but uniquely Japanese vending machine, stocked with dozens of varieties of hot and cold canned coffee drinks, some yards away. He took off toward it, pulling his suitcase with one hand and digging for coins in his jacket pocket with the other. He was in this moment so consumed with his desire for the novelty of canned coffee, emblazoned for some reason with the face of Tommy Lee Jones, and heated to order by the machine, that he was blissfully unaware of his paper train ticket fluttering from his pocket to the platform floor, dancing sickeningly close to the edge of the tracks in the early spring breeze. 

Would it have been worth it, to miss the train to Tokyo, in order to enjoy the novelty of a frankly tinny, gut-churning beverage? Fortunately, we were both quick on our feet—him to the machine, me to chase down the flyaway ticket𠅊nd we didn&apost have to find out.

I have shared here the more pedestrian experiences of beef patties and canned coffee, along with bowls of noodles in a Vietnamese market, and caviar on a private jet for those who, when traveling, might be letting that mythically adventurous and voracious version of Tony Bourdain live in their heads, as the kids say, rent-free. I know I&aposve been there—having spent a lot of time and money to get to someplace far away, and in moments of being too hungry or tired or overwhelmed to go in search of "the thing," I&aposve felt ashamed of my own disappointing desire to eat a bag of chips in bed. What would Tony think? 

Then I remember that I am not on television, no one cares what I am eating in a private moment, and that maybe after a nap, I&aposll feel ready for adventure. And I remember a highlight of traveling with Tony in Sri Lanka.  

We were in a car in Jaffna, in the northern part of the island nation, having just wrapped a long, hot shoot at the Madai Festival, which would continue late into the night.  

"Around here," said Tony in voiceover, "the Madai Festival is the most auspicious day of the year for Hindus to balance their spiritual debts. Believers show devotion through suffering enduring acts of great pain and hardship called Kavadis, or the burden debts."

There were young men suspended by hooks through their flesh, hanging from cranes festooned with fruit and flowers, and young women walking on shoes with nails hammered into the insoles, while others played percussion instruments, chanting and dancing in a state of intense religious ecstasy. I watched the sacred spectacle play out through the car window𠅊nd looked over to see Tony with his face buried deep in his phone. He was trying to figure out if there was a KFC within walking distance of the hotel. There hadn&apost been much more than a few handfuls of cooked rice available in the long hours of setup and shooting B-roll before the procession began, and he knew that his crew were hot, hungry, and very far from home.

At KFC, I waited among groups of locals to order a few buckets, and up on the hotel&aposs rooftop we pushed together some tables and chairs, and ate some resolutely western fast food chicken and biscuits, and listened to Tony and the crew members&apos hilarious stories from the road. He looked relaxed, happy, and pleased to be feeding and entertaining his friends. This, too, was what it was like to eat and travel with Tony.

Pre-order World Travel: An Irreverent Guide by Anthony Bourdain and Laurie Woolever (ECCO, April 20. 2021)


What It Was Like to Eat with Anthony Bourdain

Tony wouldn't have judged you for eating a hamburger in your hotel bed.

I am occasionally asked, "What was it like to eat and travel with Tony Bourdain?"

As his assistant and co-author, I visited various of Tony&aposs filming sets around the world, but only ate on camera with him once, at Aqueduct Racetrack, in Queens, New York, where I live. While we watched the horses, we drank unremarkable domestic beer from wobbly plastic cups and ate the same spicy, savory, almost certainly mass-produced, frozen, and microwaved or deep-fried Jamaican beef patties that you can find in any grocery store or New York City public school cafeteria. Clearly, memorable food wasn&apost the point of the scene, but we really enjoyed those beef patties, which ended up being memorable as the right thing for that context: a salty, crisp-yet-soft booze cushion, eaten with one hand while the other smacks a rolled-up racing form against the rail. 

Of course at times, eating and traveling with Tony was exactly as decadent as you might expect. While in San Francisco to promote our cookbook, Appetites, he sent me on an extremely swanky scavenger hunt for a meal of Dungeness crab, plus caviar, sour cream, red onion, salty potato chips, and chilled Champagne to be served the following night to our small entourage as we departed via private jet to Denver, the final stop of book tour. He explicitly requested perfection. "Ask yourself," he said, "would Jeremiah Tower approve?" 

In Vietnam, I rode behind him on a scooter, gently leaning into the turns as he navigated the streets and avenues of central Huế, between the hushed, luxurious, old colonial hotel and the lively, crowded Dong Ba market. We were there for a bowl of Bún bò Huế, cooked by a woman named Kim Chau, who had been doing it in the same place, in the same way, for decades.

In his TV voiceover, Tony called Bún bò Huế "a wonder of flavor and texture, the greatest soup in the world." Chau&aposs broth was a meaty, spicy, deeply funky, and pleasant thing, within which bobbed tender beef shank, crab dumplings, rice noodles, shredded banana blossoms, fiery chili sauce, and one rich, wobbly rectangle of huyết—gelatinized pig&aposs blood. I huddled out of view with the director and producer while Tony slurped his soup on camera. Once the scene was wrapped, he ordered a bowl for me, and I ate it, perched on a stool, pulled up to a battered aluminum counter, while the buying and selling of vegetables and clothing and dishes and spices and fish and meat and incense and flowers carried on all around us. 

There persists a myth about Tony that, whenever he was hungry𠅊nd in this myth, he was always hungry—he would, without fail, seek out the best, most "authentic," most intense, most attention-seeking dish, anywhere he was in the world. 

As with any myth, it&aposs based on truth. The man loved his pho and hotpot and perfect sushi and every part of every pig, and he loved to share that love. And, owing to some of the indelible bravado of his earliest episodes of television, Tony became known as the guy with durian and seal eyeballs and warthog rectum on his plate. These kinds of extremes make for good and memorable television. After all, especially when you&aposre first starting out in the medium, you have nothing to lose, and everything to gain by becoming known as the guy who ate the beating cobra heart.

What may have gone unnoticed was his capacity to delight in the simplest things, in an un-filmed moment, especially given how much of the world he had seen and tasted. For instance, while in Japan, Tony and I took a Shinkansen from Kanazawa to Tokyo, while the crew (and their dozens of cases of camera equipment) made the trip by van. 

As we ascended by escalator to the platform, Tony spotted a typical but uniquely Japanese vending machine, stocked with dozens of varieties of hot and cold canned coffee drinks, some yards away. He took off toward it, pulling his suitcase with one hand and digging for coins in his jacket pocket with the other. He was in this moment so consumed with his desire for the novelty of canned coffee, emblazoned for some reason with the face of Tommy Lee Jones, and heated to order by the machine, that he was blissfully unaware of his paper train ticket fluttering from his pocket to the platform floor, dancing sickeningly close to the edge of the tracks in the early spring breeze. 

Would it have been worth it, to miss the train to Tokyo, in order to enjoy the novelty of a frankly tinny, gut-churning beverage? Fortunately, we were both quick on our feet—him to the machine, me to chase down the flyaway ticket𠅊nd we didn&apost have to find out.

I have shared here the more pedestrian experiences of beef patties and canned coffee, along with bowls of noodles in a Vietnamese market, and caviar on a private jet for those who, when traveling, might be letting that mythically adventurous and voracious version of Tony Bourdain live in their heads, as the kids say, rent-free. I know I&aposve been there—having spent a lot of time and money to get to someplace far away, and in moments of being too hungry or tired or overwhelmed to go in search of "the thing," I&aposve felt ashamed of my own disappointing desire to eat a bag of chips in bed. What would Tony think? 

Then I remember that I am not on television, no one cares what I am eating in a private moment, and that maybe after a nap, I&aposll feel ready for adventure. And I remember a highlight of traveling with Tony in Sri Lanka.  

We were in a car in Jaffna, in the northern part of the island nation, having just wrapped a long, hot shoot at the Madai Festival, which would continue late into the night.  

"Around here," said Tony in voiceover, "the Madai Festival is the most auspicious day of the year for Hindus to balance their spiritual debts. Believers show devotion through suffering enduring acts of great pain and hardship called Kavadis, or the burden debts."

There were young men suspended by hooks through their flesh, hanging from cranes festooned with fruit and flowers, and young women walking on shoes with nails hammered into the insoles, while others played percussion instruments, chanting and dancing in a state of intense religious ecstasy. I watched the sacred spectacle play out through the car window𠅊nd looked over to see Tony with his face buried deep in his phone. He was trying to figure out if there was a KFC within walking distance of the hotel. There hadn&apost been much more than a few handfuls of cooked rice available in the long hours of setup and shooting B-roll before the procession began, and he knew that his crew were hot, hungry, and very far from home.

At KFC, I waited among groups of locals to order a few buckets, and up on the hotel&aposs rooftop we pushed together some tables and chairs, and ate some resolutely western fast food chicken and biscuits, and listened to Tony and the crew members&apos hilarious stories from the road. He looked relaxed, happy, and pleased to be feeding and entertaining his friends. This, too, was what it was like to eat and travel with Tony.

Pre-order World Travel: An Irreverent Guide by Anthony Bourdain and Laurie Woolever (ECCO, April 20. 2021)


What It Was Like to Eat with Anthony Bourdain

Tony wouldn't have judged you for eating a hamburger in your hotel bed.

I am occasionally asked, "What was it like to eat and travel with Tony Bourdain?"

As his assistant and co-author, I visited various of Tony&aposs filming sets around the world, but only ate on camera with him once, at Aqueduct Racetrack, in Queens, New York, where I live. While we watched the horses, we drank unremarkable domestic beer from wobbly plastic cups and ate the same spicy, savory, almost certainly mass-produced, frozen, and microwaved or deep-fried Jamaican beef patties that you can find in any grocery store or New York City public school cafeteria. Clearly, memorable food wasn&apost the point of the scene, but we really enjoyed those beef patties, which ended up being memorable as the right thing for that context: a salty, crisp-yet-soft booze cushion, eaten with one hand while the other smacks a rolled-up racing form against the rail. 

Of course at times, eating and traveling with Tony was exactly as decadent as you might expect. While in San Francisco to promote our cookbook, Appetites, he sent me on an extremely swanky scavenger hunt for a meal of Dungeness crab, plus caviar, sour cream, red onion, salty potato chips, and chilled Champagne to be served the following night to our small entourage as we departed via private jet to Denver, the final stop of book tour. He explicitly requested perfection. "Ask yourself," he said, "would Jeremiah Tower approve?" 

In Vietnam, I rode behind him on a scooter, gently leaning into the turns as he navigated the streets and avenues of central Huế, between the hushed, luxurious, old colonial hotel and the lively, crowded Dong Ba market. We were there for a bowl of Bún bò Huế, cooked by a woman named Kim Chau, who had been doing it in the same place, in the same way, for decades.

In his TV voiceover, Tony called Bún bò Huế "a wonder of flavor and texture, the greatest soup in the world." Chau&aposs broth was a meaty, spicy, deeply funky, and pleasant thing, within which bobbed tender beef shank, crab dumplings, rice noodles, shredded banana blossoms, fiery chili sauce, and one rich, wobbly rectangle of huyết—gelatinized pig&aposs blood. I huddled out of view with the director and producer while Tony slurped his soup on camera. Once the scene was wrapped, he ordered a bowl for me, and I ate it, perched on a stool, pulled up to a battered aluminum counter, while the buying and selling of vegetables and clothing and dishes and spices and fish and meat and incense and flowers carried on all around us. 

There persists a myth about Tony that, whenever he was hungry𠅊nd in this myth, he was always hungry—he would, without fail, seek out the best, most "authentic," most intense, most attention-seeking dish, anywhere he was in the world. 

As with any myth, it&aposs based on truth. The man loved his pho and hotpot and perfect sushi and every part of every pig, and he loved to share that love. And, owing to some of the indelible bravado of his earliest episodes of television, Tony became known as the guy with durian and seal eyeballs and warthog rectum on his plate. These kinds of extremes make for good and memorable television. After all, especially when you&aposre first starting out in the medium, you have nothing to lose, and everything to gain by becoming known as the guy who ate the beating cobra heart.

What may have gone unnoticed was his capacity to delight in the simplest things, in an un-filmed moment, especially given how much of the world he had seen and tasted. For instance, while in Japan, Tony and I took a Shinkansen from Kanazawa to Tokyo, while the crew (and their dozens of cases of camera equipment) made the trip by van. 

As we ascended by escalator to the platform, Tony spotted a typical but uniquely Japanese vending machine, stocked with dozens of varieties of hot and cold canned coffee drinks, some yards away. He took off toward it, pulling his suitcase with one hand and digging for coins in his jacket pocket with the other. He was in this moment so consumed with his desire for the novelty of canned coffee, emblazoned for some reason with the face of Tommy Lee Jones, and heated to order by the machine, that he was blissfully unaware of his paper train ticket fluttering from his pocket to the platform floor, dancing sickeningly close to the edge of the tracks in the early spring breeze. 

Would it have been worth it, to miss the train to Tokyo, in order to enjoy the novelty of a frankly tinny, gut-churning beverage? Fortunately, we were both quick on our feet—him to the machine, me to chase down the flyaway ticket𠅊nd we didn&apost have to find out.

I have shared here the more pedestrian experiences of beef patties and canned coffee, along with bowls of noodles in a Vietnamese market, and caviar on a private jet for those who, when traveling, might be letting that mythically adventurous and voracious version of Tony Bourdain live in their heads, as the kids say, rent-free. I know I&aposve been there—having spent a lot of time and money to get to someplace far away, and in moments of being too hungry or tired or overwhelmed to go in search of "the thing," I&aposve felt ashamed of my own disappointing desire to eat a bag of chips in bed. What would Tony think? 

Then I remember that I am not on television, no one cares what I am eating in a private moment, and that maybe after a nap, I&aposll feel ready for adventure. And I remember a highlight of traveling with Tony in Sri Lanka.  

We were in a car in Jaffna, in the northern part of the island nation, having just wrapped a long, hot shoot at the Madai Festival, which would continue late into the night.  

"Around here," said Tony in voiceover, "the Madai Festival is the most auspicious day of the year for Hindus to balance their spiritual debts. Believers show devotion through suffering enduring acts of great pain and hardship called Kavadis, or the burden debts."

There were young men suspended by hooks through their flesh, hanging from cranes festooned with fruit and flowers, and young women walking on shoes with nails hammered into the insoles, while others played percussion instruments, chanting and dancing in a state of intense religious ecstasy. I watched the sacred spectacle play out through the car window𠅊nd looked over to see Tony with his face buried deep in his phone. He was trying to figure out if there was a KFC within walking distance of the hotel. There hadn&apost been much more than a few handfuls of cooked rice available in the long hours of setup and shooting B-roll before the procession began, and he knew that his crew were hot, hungry, and very far from home.

At KFC, I waited among groups of locals to order a few buckets, and up on the hotel&aposs rooftop we pushed together some tables and chairs, and ate some resolutely western fast food chicken and biscuits, and listened to Tony and the crew members&apos hilarious stories from the road. He looked relaxed, happy, and pleased to be feeding and entertaining his friends. This, too, was what it was like to eat and travel with Tony.

Pre-order World Travel: An Irreverent Guide by Anthony Bourdain and Laurie Woolever (ECCO, April 20. 2021)


What It Was Like to Eat with Anthony Bourdain

Tony wouldn't have judged you for eating a hamburger in your hotel bed.

I am occasionally asked, "What was it like to eat and travel with Tony Bourdain?"

As his assistant and co-author, I visited various of Tony&aposs filming sets around the world, but only ate on camera with him once, at Aqueduct Racetrack, in Queens, New York, where I live. While we watched the horses, we drank unremarkable domestic beer from wobbly plastic cups and ate the same spicy, savory, almost certainly mass-produced, frozen, and microwaved or deep-fried Jamaican beef patties that you can find in any grocery store or New York City public school cafeteria. Clearly, memorable food wasn&apost the point of the scene, but we really enjoyed those beef patties, which ended up being memorable as the right thing for that context: a salty, crisp-yet-soft booze cushion, eaten with one hand while the other smacks a rolled-up racing form against the rail. 

Of course at times, eating and traveling with Tony was exactly as decadent as you might expect. While in San Francisco to promote our cookbook, Appetites, he sent me on an extremely swanky scavenger hunt for a meal of Dungeness crab, plus caviar, sour cream, red onion, salty potato chips, and chilled Champagne to be served the following night to our small entourage as we departed via private jet to Denver, the final stop of book tour. He explicitly requested perfection. "Ask yourself," he said, "would Jeremiah Tower approve?" 

In Vietnam, I rode behind him on a scooter, gently leaning into the turns as he navigated the streets and avenues of central Huế, between the hushed, luxurious, old colonial hotel and the lively, crowded Dong Ba market. We were there for a bowl of Bún bò Huế, cooked by a woman named Kim Chau, who had been doing it in the same place, in the same way, for decades.

In his TV voiceover, Tony called Bún bò Huế "a wonder of flavor and texture, the greatest soup in the world." Chau&aposs broth was a meaty, spicy, deeply funky, and pleasant thing, within which bobbed tender beef shank, crab dumplings, rice noodles, shredded banana blossoms, fiery chili sauce, and one rich, wobbly rectangle of huyết—gelatinized pig&aposs blood. I huddled out of view with the director and producer while Tony slurped his soup on camera. Once the scene was wrapped, he ordered a bowl for me, and I ate it, perched on a stool, pulled up to a battered aluminum counter, while the buying and selling of vegetables and clothing and dishes and spices and fish and meat and incense and flowers carried on all around us. 

There persists a myth about Tony that, whenever he was hungry𠅊nd in this myth, he was always hungry—he would, without fail, seek out the best, most "authentic," most intense, most attention-seeking dish, anywhere he was in the world. 

As with any myth, it&aposs based on truth. The man loved his pho and hotpot and perfect sushi and every part of every pig, and he loved to share that love. And, owing to some of the indelible bravado of his earliest episodes of television, Tony became known as the guy with durian and seal eyeballs and warthog rectum on his plate. These kinds of extremes make for good and memorable television. After all, especially when you&aposre first starting out in the medium, you have nothing to lose, and everything to gain by becoming known as the guy who ate the beating cobra heart.

What may have gone unnoticed was his capacity to delight in the simplest things, in an un-filmed moment, especially given how much of the world he had seen and tasted. For instance, while in Japan, Tony and I took a Shinkansen from Kanazawa to Tokyo, while the crew (and their dozens of cases of camera equipment) made the trip by van. 

As we ascended by escalator to the platform, Tony spotted a typical but uniquely Japanese vending machine, stocked with dozens of varieties of hot and cold canned coffee drinks, some yards away. He took off toward it, pulling his suitcase with one hand and digging for coins in his jacket pocket with the other. He was in this moment so consumed with his desire for the novelty of canned coffee, emblazoned for some reason with the face of Tommy Lee Jones, and heated to order by the machine, that he was blissfully unaware of his paper train ticket fluttering from his pocket to the platform floor, dancing sickeningly close to the edge of the tracks in the early spring breeze. 

Would it have been worth it, to miss the train to Tokyo, in order to enjoy the novelty of a frankly tinny, gut-churning beverage? Fortunately, we were both quick on our feet—him to the machine, me to chase down the flyaway ticket𠅊nd we didn&apost have to find out.

I have shared here the more pedestrian experiences of beef patties and canned coffee, along with bowls of noodles in a Vietnamese market, and caviar on a private jet for those who, when traveling, might be letting that mythically adventurous and voracious version of Tony Bourdain live in their heads, as the kids say, rent-free. I know I&aposve been there—having spent a lot of time and money to get to someplace far away, and in moments of being too hungry or tired or overwhelmed to go in search of "the thing," I&aposve felt ashamed of my own disappointing desire to eat a bag of chips in bed. What would Tony think? 

Then I remember that I am not on television, no one cares what I am eating in a private moment, and that maybe after a nap, I&aposll feel ready for adventure. And I remember a highlight of traveling with Tony in Sri Lanka.  

We were in a car in Jaffna, in the northern part of the island nation, having just wrapped a long, hot shoot at the Madai Festival, which would continue late into the night.  

"Around here," said Tony in voiceover, "the Madai Festival is the most auspicious day of the year for Hindus to balance their spiritual debts. Believers show devotion through suffering enduring acts of great pain and hardship called Kavadis, or the burden debts."

There were young men suspended by hooks through their flesh, hanging from cranes festooned with fruit and flowers, and young women walking on shoes with nails hammered into the insoles, while others played percussion instruments, chanting and dancing in a state of intense religious ecstasy. I watched the sacred spectacle play out through the car window𠅊nd looked over to see Tony with his face buried deep in his phone. He was trying to figure out if there was a KFC within walking distance of the hotel. There hadn&apost been much more than a few handfuls of cooked rice available in the long hours of setup and shooting B-roll before the procession began, and he knew that his crew were hot, hungry, and very far from home.

At KFC, I waited among groups of locals to order a few buckets, and up on the hotel&aposs rooftop we pushed together some tables and chairs, and ate some resolutely western fast food chicken and biscuits, and listened to Tony and the crew members&apos hilarious stories from the road. He looked relaxed, happy, and pleased to be feeding and entertaining his friends. This, too, was what it was like to eat and travel with Tony.

Pre-order World Travel: An Irreverent Guide by Anthony Bourdain and Laurie Woolever (ECCO, April 20. 2021)


What It Was Like to Eat with Anthony Bourdain

Tony wouldn't have judged you for eating a hamburger in your hotel bed.

I am occasionally asked, "What was it like to eat and travel with Tony Bourdain?"

As his assistant and co-author, I visited various of Tony&aposs filming sets around the world, but only ate on camera with him once, at Aqueduct Racetrack, in Queens, New York, where I live. While we watched the horses, we drank unremarkable domestic beer from wobbly plastic cups and ate the same spicy, savory, almost certainly mass-produced, frozen, and microwaved or deep-fried Jamaican beef patties that you can find in any grocery store or New York City public school cafeteria. Clearly, memorable food wasn&apost the point of the scene, but we really enjoyed those beef patties, which ended up being memorable as the right thing for that context: a salty, crisp-yet-soft booze cushion, eaten with one hand while the other smacks a rolled-up racing form against the rail. 

Of course at times, eating and traveling with Tony was exactly as decadent as you might expect. While in San Francisco to promote our cookbook, Appetites, he sent me on an extremely swanky scavenger hunt for a meal of Dungeness crab, plus caviar, sour cream, red onion, salty potato chips, and chilled Champagne to be served the following night to our small entourage as we departed via private jet to Denver, the final stop of book tour. He explicitly requested perfection. "Ask yourself," he said, "would Jeremiah Tower approve?" 

In Vietnam, I rode behind him on a scooter, gently leaning into the turns as he navigated the streets and avenues of central Huế, between the hushed, luxurious, old colonial hotel and the lively, crowded Dong Ba market. We were there for a bowl of Bún bò Huế, cooked by a woman named Kim Chau, who had been doing it in the same place, in the same way, for decades.

In his TV voiceover, Tony called Bún bò Huế "a wonder of flavor and texture, the greatest soup in the world." Chau&aposs broth was a meaty, spicy, deeply funky, and pleasant thing, within which bobbed tender beef shank, crab dumplings, rice noodles, shredded banana blossoms, fiery chili sauce, and one rich, wobbly rectangle of huyết—gelatinized pig&aposs blood. I huddled out of view with the director and producer while Tony slurped his soup on camera. Once the scene was wrapped, he ordered a bowl for me, and I ate it, perched on a stool, pulled up to a battered aluminum counter, while the buying and selling of vegetables and clothing and dishes and spices and fish and meat and incense and flowers carried on all around us. 

There persists a myth about Tony that, whenever he was hungry𠅊nd in this myth, he was always hungry—he would, without fail, seek out the best, most "authentic," most intense, most attention-seeking dish, anywhere he was in the world. 

As with any myth, it&aposs based on truth. The man loved his pho and hotpot and perfect sushi and every part of every pig, and he loved to share that love. And, owing to some of the indelible bravado of his earliest episodes of television, Tony became known as the guy with durian and seal eyeballs and warthog rectum on his plate. These kinds of extremes make for good and memorable television. After all, especially when you&aposre first starting out in the medium, you have nothing to lose, and everything to gain by becoming known as the guy who ate the beating cobra heart.

What may have gone unnoticed was his capacity to delight in the simplest things, in an un-filmed moment, especially given how much of the world he had seen and tasted. For instance, while in Japan, Tony and I took a Shinkansen from Kanazawa to Tokyo, while the crew (and their dozens of cases of camera equipment) made the trip by van. 

As we ascended by escalator to the platform, Tony spotted a typical but uniquely Japanese vending machine, stocked with dozens of varieties of hot and cold canned coffee drinks, some yards away. He took off toward it, pulling his suitcase with one hand and digging for coins in his jacket pocket with the other. He was in this moment so consumed with his desire for the novelty of canned coffee, emblazoned for some reason with the face of Tommy Lee Jones, and heated to order by the machine, that he was blissfully unaware of his paper train ticket fluttering from his pocket to the platform floor, dancing sickeningly close to the edge of the tracks in the early spring breeze. 

Would it have been worth it, to miss the train to Tokyo, in order to enjoy the novelty of a frankly tinny, gut-churning beverage? Fortunately, we were both quick on our feet—him to the machine, me to chase down the flyaway ticket𠅊nd we didn&apost have to find out.

I have shared here the more pedestrian experiences of beef patties and canned coffee, along with bowls of noodles in a Vietnamese market, and caviar on a private jet for those who, when traveling, might be letting that mythically adventurous and voracious version of Tony Bourdain live in their heads, as the kids say, rent-free. I know I&aposve been there—having spent a lot of time and money to get to someplace far away, and in moments of being too hungry or tired or overwhelmed to go in search of "the thing," I&aposve felt ashamed of my own disappointing desire to eat a bag of chips in bed. What would Tony think? 

Then I remember that I am not on television, no one cares what I am eating in a private moment, and that maybe after a nap, I&aposll feel ready for adventure. And I remember a highlight of traveling with Tony in Sri Lanka.  

We were in a car in Jaffna, in the northern part of the island nation, having just wrapped a long, hot shoot at the Madai Festival, which would continue late into the night.  

"Around here," said Tony in voiceover, "the Madai Festival is the most auspicious day of the year for Hindus to balance their spiritual debts. Believers show devotion through suffering enduring acts of great pain and hardship called Kavadis, or the burden debts."

There were young men suspended by hooks through their flesh, hanging from cranes festooned with fruit and flowers, and young women walking on shoes with nails hammered into the insoles, while others played percussion instruments, chanting and dancing in a state of intense religious ecstasy. I watched the sacred spectacle play out through the car window𠅊nd looked over to see Tony with his face buried deep in his phone. He was trying to figure out if there was a KFC within walking distance of the hotel. There hadn&apost been much more than a few handfuls of cooked rice available in the long hours of setup and shooting B-roll before the procession began, and he knew that his crew were hot, hungry, and very far from home.

At KFC, I waited among groups of locals to order a few buckets, and up on the hotel&aposs rooftop we pushed together some tables and chairs, and ate some resolutely western fast food chicken and biscuits, and listened to Tony and the crew members&apos hilarious stories from the road. He looked relaxed, happy, and pleased to be feeding and entertaining his friends. This, too, was what it was like to eat and travel with Tony.

Pre-order World Travel: An Irreverent Guide by Anthony Bourdain and Laurie Woolever (ECCO, April 20. 2021)


What It Was Like to Eat with Anthony Bourdain

Tony wouldn't have judged you for eating a hamburger in your hotel bed.

I am occasionally asked, "What was it like to eat and travel with Tony Bourdain?"

As his assistant and co-author, I visited various of Tony&aposs filming sets around the world, but only ate on camera with him once, at Aqueduct Racetrack, in Queens, New York, where I live. While we watched the horses, we drank unremarkable domestic beer from wobbly plastic cups and ate the same spicy, savory, almost certainly mass-produced, frozen, and microwaved or deep-fried Jamaican beef patties that you can find in any grocery store or New York City public school cafeteria. Clearly, memorable food wasn&apost the point of the scene, but we really enjoyed those beef patties, which ended up being memorable as the right thing for that context: a salty, crisp-yet-soft booze cushion, eaten with one hand while the other smacks a rolled-up racing form against the rail. 

Of course at times, eating and traveling with Tony was exactly as decadent as you might expect. While in San Francisco to promote our cookbook, Appetites, he sent me on an extremely swanky scavenger hunt for a meal of Dungeness crab, plus caviar, sour cream, red onion, salty potato chips, and chilled Champagne to be served the following night to our small entourage as we departed via private jet to Denver, the final stop of book tour. He explicitly requested perfection. "Ask yourself," he said, "would Jeremiah Tower approve?" 

In Vietnam, I rode behind him on a scooter, gently leaning into the turns as he navigated the streets and avenues of central Huế, between the hushed, luxurious, old colonial hotel and the lively, crowded Dong Ba market. We were there for a bowl of Bún bò Huế, cooked by a woman named Kim Chau, who had been doing it in the same place, in the same way, for decades.

In his TV voiceover, Tony called Bún bò Huế "a wonder of flavor and texture, the greatest soup in the world." Chau&aposs broth was a meaty, spicy, deeply funky, and pleasant thing, within which bobbed tender beef shank, crab dumplings, rice noodles, shredded banana blossoms, fiery chili sauce, and one rich, wobbly rectangle of huyết—gelatinized pig&aposs blood. I huddled out of view with the director and producer while Tony slurped his soup on camera. Once the scene was wrapped, he ordered a bowl for me, and I ate it, perched on a stool, pulled up to a battered aluminum counter, while the buying and selling of vegetables and clothing and dishes and spices and fish and meat and incense and flowers carried on all around us. 

There persists a myth about Tony that, whenever he was hungry𠅊nd in this myth, he was always hungry—he would, without fail, seek out the best, most "authentic," most intense, most attention-seeking dish, anywhere he was in the world. 

As with any myth, it&aposs based on truth. The man loved his pho and hotpot and perfect sushi and every part of every pig, and he loved to share that love. And, owing to some of the indelible bravado of his earliest episodes of television, Tony became known as the guy with durian and seal eyeballs and warthog rectum on his plate. These kinds of extremes make for good and memorable television. After all, especially when you&aposre first starting out in the medium, you have nothing to lose, and everything to gain by becoming known as the guy who ate the beating cobra heart.

What may have gone unnoticed was his capacity to delight in the simplest things, in an un-filmed moment, especially given how much of the world he had seen and tasted. For instance, while in Japan, Tony and I took a Shinkansen from Kanazawa to Tokyo, while the crew (and their dozens of cases of camera equipment) made the trip by van. 

As we ascended by escalator to the platform, Tony spotted a typical but uniquely Japanese vending machine, stocked with dozens of varieties of hot and cold canned coffee drinks, some yards away. He took off toward it, pulling his suitcase with one hand and digging for coins in his jacket pocket with the other. He was in this moment so consumed with his desire for the novelty of canned coffee, emblazoned for some reason with the face of Tommy Lee Jones, and heated to order by the machine, that he was blissfully unaware of his paper train ticket fluttering from his pocket to the platform floor, dancing sickeningly close to the edge of the tracks in the early spring breeze. 

Would it have been worth it, to miss the train to Tokyo, in order to enjoy the novelty of a frankly tinny, gut-churning beverage? Fortunately, we were both quick on our feet—him to the machine, me to chase down the flyaway ticket𠅊nd we didn&apost have to find out.

I have shared here the more pedestrian experiences of beef patties and canned coffee, along with bowls of noodles in a Vietnamese market, and caviar on a private jet for those who, when traveling, might be letting that mythically adventurous and voracious version of Tony Bourdain live in their heads, as the kids say, rent-free. I know I&aposve been there—having spent a lot of time and money to get to someplace far away, and in moments of being too hungry or tired or overwhelmed to go in search of "the thing," I&aposve felt ashamed of my own disappointing desire to eat a bag of chips in bed. What would Tony think? 

Then I remember that I am not on television, no one cares what I am eating in a private moment, and that maybe after a nap, I&aposll feel ready for adventure. And I remember a highlight of traveling with Tony in Sri Lanka.  

We were in a car in Jaffna, in the northern part of the island nation, having just wrapped a long, hot shoot at the Madai Festival, which would continue late into the night.  

"Around here," said Tony in voiceover, "the Madai Festival is the most auspicious day of the year for Hindus to balance their spiritual debts. Os crentes mostram devoção através do sofrimento de atos duradouros de grande dor e sofrimento chamados Kavadis, ou as dívidas de fardo. & Quot

Havia rapazes suspensos por ganchos na carne, pendurados em guindastes enfeitados com frutas e flores, moças andando com sapatos com pregos cravados nas palmilhas, enquanto outros tocavam instrumentos de percussão, cantando e dançando em estado de intenso êxtase religioso. Assisti ao espetáculo sagrado se desenrolar pela janela do carro & # x2014 e olhei para ver Tony com o rosto enterrado no fundo do telefone. Ele estava tentando descobrir se havia um KFC a uma curta distância do hotel. Não havia muito mais do que alguns punhados de arroz cozido disponíveis nas longas horas de preparação e filmagem do rolo B antes do início da procissão, e ele sabia que sua tripulação estava com calor, com fome e muito longe de casa.

No KFC, esperei entre grupos de moradores para pedir alguns baldes e, no telhado do hotel, juntamos algumas mesas e cadeiras e comemos frango e biscoitos decididamente ocidentais de fast food e ouvimos Tony e os membros da equipe e histórias hilariantes da estrada. Ele parecia relaxado, feliz e satisfeito por alimentar e divertir seus amigos. Também era assim que era comer e viajar com Tony.

Pedido antecipado Viagem pelo mundo: um guia irreverente por Anthony Bourdain e Laurie Woolever (ECCO, 20 de abril de 2021)


Assista o vídeo: Anthony Bourdain, Full Interview 10-28-2015 (Novembro 2022).