13 August 08

Anthony Bourdain and the duck fat fries

Last Friday I left from getting a rocking cool haircut (thanks, Reverend Billy!) and realized I was hungry. I had a lot of food at home and decided that instead of continuing on downtown to use a gift card and exchange a cd, I would just go home, eat, and then venture to a mall to use my gift card instead. On my way driving home, I missed my street and ended up on California. The traffic was horrible and I could feel one of those “I’m so hungry I’m getting grumpy” moods come on. And then I saw Hot Doug’s. Yeah the line was around the corner, yeah I would probably eat sooner if I just went home and made food than I would if I ate out, and no, I didn’t need to be spending money on food. But, there were duck fat fries, and it had been a year since I’d had them, and, and And, well, I bet you know I got in line. I waited in line for almost an hour and was looking forward to trying The New Chicago Dog. I placed my order and was delighted to get a seat at the bar in the corner by the windows so I would have great light for taking the pictures for writing about at Gapers Block. I set up my shot, took it, had a sip of my Mr. Pibb, and took a bite of my long-awaited hot dog, sausage sandwich, encased meat. I liked the first bite, so I took another. And just as a piece of paneer (Indian cheese made from fresh milk) fell in my lap, a young woman tapped me on the shoulder and asked me if I would mind surrenduring my seat.
“We’re doing a filming here soon, and we’d like to use this corner. I feel bad asking you, and I’d be happy to pay for your lunch. Do you mind? You could just move over about two seats, or I’ll help you move to a larger table.”
Since I am generally an accommodating person, I didn’t really mind moving. So as I started to move my belongings, I asked her who she was filming with.
“It’s a Travel Channel show called No Reservations. Perhaps you’ve heard of it?”
“Oh, of course. I love that show. But Mr. Bourdain isn’t really here is he?”
“Yeah. He’s waiting in line.”
“What? Seriously? I mean, really? Here? In Chicago? I, uh, I, uh, I kinda have a crush on him. I mean, everyone I know has a crush on him.”
She looked mildly puzzled, “Really?”
And then its kind of a blur because I remember thinking a whole lot of “Oh My God!” and “Tony’s going to sit right beside me. I’m so glad I just got my hair done. I wonder what he’s going to order. I wonder if he’ll eat the duck fat fries. Will he drink Coke? Oh My God!”
I honestly think the only thing that saved me from hyperventilating was that the assistant said “You may end up in a background shot.” Knowing that my googly fan-girl face would get totally blocked and could ruin his shot kept me in check.

And then he walked behind me, his elbow just lightly brushing my shoulder (he’s pretty tall) and I did my best to focus on my fries and pretend to read my book. And he sat down, and he arranged his tray and the food on his tray.
“Tony, can you hold on a minute. We’re getting the other camera set up.”
“I’m so f**king hungry.”
And without thinking, I turned to him and said “It’s not fair that they make you wait to eat.”
“I know.”
“Okay, Tony. When you’re ready.”
Tony talked to himself, he ate his Chicago Hot Dog and his Foie Gras Dog and some of his duck fat fries, he finished his soda, he posed for the cameras while eating. He wiped his lips on napkins. He seemed to enjoy his food.
“Tony, can you pick up a few more fries? You don’t have to eat them.”
And with that, the filming seemed finished. And, well, I talked to him again. And at the end of what can hardly be called a conversation, I asked to take his picture. He agreed, and I took a shot that was out of focus and another shot that was delightfully in focus. And he smiled, nodded, and then he left the restaurant (probably to go smoke) and I swooned and chatted with one of the women working with him. She thanked me for being such a good sport.

I remember watching A Cook’s Tour on The Food Network years ago. I liked where he went, I liked his guests, I liked the food he ate. But he seemed so angry and bitter. And then when No Reservations came out, I began reading more that he wrote and what was written about him and came to realize some of the frustrations he had when working with The Food Network. And Naz and Jen swore it was a great show, so I turned to Tivo and decided I’d watch and see what I thought. And, he still seemed cynical and snide and a bit snarky. But my opinion of him changed while I was watching an episode he filmed in Asia. I can’t remember the country or the episode. Tony and his crew were invited to eat with a family and it seemed like it was a slightly unexpected invitiation, and they definitely seemed like an offense would be considered if the invitation was refused. But the family obviously had modest means. But Tony sat on the floor, talking with his tour friend, and talking through the cooking steps of the matriarch as she prepared food over an open fire. He seemed doubtful that the contents of a large pot would be tasty. But as soon as the chef handed him a small bowl and bowed to him, he smiled at her genuinely, took the bowl, did a head nod in return. He ate a bite and he seemed genuinely to be happy with the bowl’s contents, and he smiled. As soon as he smiled the woman and other family members both on and off camera began to laugh and cheer and bowls, plates, dishes were passed and jovial laughter were joined by Anthony’s voiceover talking about how grateful he was for their hospitality and saying how food made from experience and love will always trump food made in a corporate kitchen.

And that’s when I began viewing his snark and cynicism differently. It’s not his goal to push snobby cuisine, its his goal to get recognition of how food affects a culture, the people who share it, and the people who prepare it. In his world, the lowly dishwasher from Mexico who lacks a green card is just as important to food culture as a grandmother who has made the same rice pilaf for 50 years as an Iron Chef. And once I made that realization, I went from being a viewer of his show, to being a fan of him and the outlook that he’s spreading.

I love food. I don’t spend as much time experimenting with dishes as I wish I did, my knife skills still suck, and I have never made a quiche. But I like food and I firmly believe that making food for people is a great way to show people that you love them. And, you know what, I think Tony does, too. And, the experience of seeing him sit at one of my favorite places in Chicago and enjoy a basic Chicago-style hot dog, that is unpretentious and scorned by many foodies, just as much as he enjoyed a sausage made from duck with a foie gras topping really made my head swim. Ingredients created with care and attention are important, but food made by people who care is equally important. And a lowly Chicago hot dog with its neon-green relish and yellow mustard is no less tasty, if made knowingly, than a handmade duck sausage.

And, I think, its the knowingly part that drives him on, looking for more experiences, people, and dishes. It’s the respect and understanding and true awe that he expresses to a soba noodle maker who has spent all of his adult life making one type of noodle over and over, and will spend the rest of his life making that same noodle. Because its the care, the desire for perfection, the drive to be proud of what you create, the need to see that details are captured correctly that seems to attract him. And me to him, apparently.

Thank you, Tony. For your patience at Hot Doug’s while I and many others snapped pictures of you while you ate. For your ability to understand the underlying political issues of food and how they affect the culture and the people who contain them. And for showing me places and adventures around the world that I’ll likely never get to experience myself. And thank you for occasionally closing your eyes when you eat. I know exactly how that feels. When I see you do it, I get sympathy twitches in my esophagus. Oh, and that little eyebrow tick you get on occasion when something is really good? Yeah, I get that, too.

Comments

Commenting is closed for this article.

  ·  


(c) Cinnamon Cooper / Poise.cc