The Pros and Cons of CSAs
Seattlest Pix 09Nov08
Weekly Around the -Ists
Seattlest Pix 09Nov09
Can't Miss It: Monday
Saturday night at the Moore: outside, long lines waited, people begged for tickets, while inside electricity was in the air, the crowd buzzed about what Anthony Bourdain might say. When he finally took the stage, it was a rock star reception—wild applause disrupted the start of his delivery for several minutes.
Bourdain prowled the stage, proud of his accomplishments. He was amazed that what he calls an obnoxious, testosterone-driven, insider’s article about restaurant life turned into a best-selling Kitchen Confidential. He was astounded a publisher would pay more for him to eat his way around the world—and that two "dweebs" would film it (hence Food Network’s A Cook’s Tour and eventually Travel Channel’s No Reservations). "The line between work and play was getting fuzzy," he said, realizing he could eat and drink for a living—to excess.
In the only part of the program that seemed even loosely scripted (he had a folded piece of paper at hand), Bourdain tried to explain what he’s learned from all his experiences, hypothesizing that, even in different parts of the world, the common factors contributing to good eating are hunger, poverty, simple ingredients, and no refrigeration. He lauded the Chinese, musing that there’s a Chinese guy inside anyone who makes good food. The Chinese have, after all, been doing it longer and better than anyone else. ("Scandinavian food sucks," he surmised, "Because the Mongols never invaded there.") They believe there are no good or bad ingredients; it’s just a matter of transforming things like chicken feet, duck tongues, hooves and shanks to make them taste good. (According to Bourdain, the Chinese influence extends to Malaysia and Singapore because "people fucking each other and eating each other’s food" creates "natural fusion"; he said a proclivity to race-mixing—and good music—apparently explains the great food in Brazil, too.)
He listed other peoples' similar themes: the poor but proud Vietnamese who have no storage and have to cook fresh; the French proletariat who embraced snails and snouts before escargot and confit became elitist; Italian home cooks who use a few simple ingredients and get it right; and Mexican moms and grandmothers who spend all day making spectacular food with their hands. (On a different note, he previewed next season’s No Reservations in talking about Spain as the best place ever for cutting-edge cuisine.)
Great restaurants, Bourdain said, are about a unique individual’s voice talking to you, not a corporate vision of what you’re supposed to eat. He praised Seattle for its good chefs and great raw materials, but quickly reverted to an I Love New York! refrain.
Anthony Bourdain is an entertainer, as he displayed during the question-and-answer period, which made up half of the nearly 90-minute presentation. Most interesting was his perspective on the future of food, particularly in America. He likes what he calls "the reactionary phase" of cooking, with chefs throwing out the tablecloths and uniforms, preparing what they really like, working the counters to have more contact with the clientele (a la sushi chefs). He likes that chefs are taking more control, as the customer isn’t always right. (In his finest vegetarian rant, he told the tale of Momofuku’s David Chang, who after complaints from vegetarians added pork to just about everything, leaving just one item on the menu with a red-lettered description saying "OUR ONLY VEGETARIAN OPTION").
He wishes more Americans had passports and a sense of wonder—"curiosity exalted as a virtue"—as fear and ignorance spill over to the dining room table. He despises Rachael Ray and other Food Network personalities who think we’re cooking well by pouring cheese over our pedestrian dishes, and encourages us to instead check out chefs who challenge us to eat better. And, in the face of rising food costs, Bourdain believes that governments globally will fall and a lot of people will die in the process, while the rich will continue paying exorbitant amounts of money for food only poor people used to eat, such as pork belly.
With his ability to sell out (at $30 to $120 per ticket) the nearly 1,400-seat theater, Bourdain is one of the rich. He seemed as awestruck by the turnout as his cult following felt awestruck with him. He didn’t say anything particularly new, nor was it particularly polished, but the audience ate it all up. It felt a bit self-indulgent, especially with his ongoing references to how great his life is.
When Tony tells us his ability to eat, drink, and travel as he wishes—and now speak what he wishes—is a dream, it seems he should just once acknowledge with thanks that it’s we who make that dream possible by buying the books, watching the shows, and now filling the theater. We do it with jealousy—and appreciation!
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