Kitchen Wench

Today, celebrity chef/world traveler/incredibly macho dude Anthony Bourdain made an appearance at Olsson’s bookstore in Washington, D.C. Olsson’s is a scant five minute walk from my seafoam green office cubicle, and although I’m not a die-hard Bourdain fan, I wasn’t going to miss this opportunity.

Bourdain was in town today to promote his latest book, No Reservations. It’s basically a collection of food porn-y (and sometimes Bourdain porn-y) photographs collected while on the road for his show on the Travel Channel. I didn’t realize this until after I handed the cashier my credit card and suddenly found that I had paid 36 dollars for a coffee table book. Yikes.

However, my 36 dollars also bought me a little slip of paper with a number on it. This number ensured me a place in line to get my overpriced photo album signed by the man himself. This would become important later, when it turned out that it was so crowded in the store that I couldn’t actually see Mr. Bourdain the entire time he was speaking.

Olsson’s is a small, independent chain, and Bourdain’s celebrity was definitely too large for the tiny row of folding chairs the set up for the audience. While I’ve always known the DC professional population to be unnecessarily competitive and aggressive (this is what happens when you build a city entirely of lawyers), the lack of seating made for some especially nasty interactions.

Because there weren’t enough chairs, most people were forced to crowd two to three deep in between the bookshelves of the Mystery and Non-Fiction sections. Some really considerate folks decided that this would be a good time for them to sit down in the middle of the aisle, put their stuff all over the ground, and start partaking in leisurely activities such as eating a sandwich or reading the Post while everyone else tries not to trip over them.

Now, I don’t think the world owes me anything in particular, but as a very short person, I find myself at a special disadvantage in a crowd. I therefore think that I am at least somewhat entitled to cut to the front of the group, since nearly everyone can see over my head anyway. Unfortunately, the rabid Washington, D.C. Anthony Bourdain fans thought differently.

While trying to walk to the front of the aisle and not step on this giant box of takeout that someone decided to place in the middle of the floor, I bumped my foot into this woman’s knee. I did not hit it very hard, but it was pretty much impossible not to bump someone given the circumstances. Most people probably wouldn’t say anything, but this chick says in a very loud voice, “OUCH!” and gives me the uber-bitchface.

I start apologizing all over the place, but then Bitchface sets in on my co-worker, who’s standing in front of me. My co-worker tries to sit down on the floor in front of Bitchface, but BF informs her that she can’t sit there because Anthony Bourdain needs to walk through. So my co-worker stands up and scoots the side. BF informs her that she can’t see and that her coat is in the way. My co-worker explains that she’s planning to sit down once Mr. Bourdain has walked to the podium. Then Giant Takeout Box Lady (whose takeout caused me to hit BF in the first place) starts screaming at everybody to sit down because she can’t see. A disgruntled bald man grumbles back, “Then why don’t you stand up?!” At this point I back up because there is clearly no reasoning with either Bitchface or Takeout Lady and resign myself to staring at someone’s back during Bourdain’s entire speech and Q&A session.

Anthony Bourdain sounds exactly the same in person as he does on his tv show. This is kind of refreshing, actually. It’s the same dry, cynical, and usually crass voiceover from his “No Reservations” journeys. And while the show’s navel-gazing can occasionally become too overwrought, I find that it usually works because it really is a genuine sentiment. It’s not canned and certainly not sanitized. Bourdain rambles on about filming the show, and as a semi-regular viewer, it’s pretty neat to hear the back story on some of my favorite episodes.

Bourdain then spends the rest of the time taking questions from the audience, about anything from where he ate last night to who is the most/least evil bobble-head chef on the Food Network (most evil: Sandra Lee, least: Mario Batali and Ina Garten, though Bourdain is convinced that something creepy is going on at her Hamptons estate). I walk away from this discussion liking Bourdain and disliking Washingtonians more than ever before.

Some high points include when someone asked what he thought the best restaurants were and, after listing off the standards and a few personal faves, said that really there is no best. The best food is what you need right now. If you need a bowl of pho on a short stool in Vietnam, then that is the best food. I completely agree and tend to think that questions like that are missing the point.

Someone else asked about whether travel had changed his views on vegetarianism. I got the sense that from the asker’s tone that we were dealing with a Self-Important Vegetarian who was hoping Bourdain might say something about how India made him see the light in a plate of palak paneer. Bourdain said he completely understood being a vegetarian for religious reasons or socioeconomic reasons. However, for any comfortable person with access to all sorts of foods (i.e. Americans), that it was just plain rude and stupid to go to another country and insist that they bow to the demands of your elected diet. First of all, don’t short change yourself–most foreign countries have cuisine that predates ours by hundreds of years. Clearly they know how to make food and you should try it. Secondly, in many places meat is a luxury which they are going to offer a guest out of respect. It would be rude and hurtful to them to refuse to eat it.

Some low points of the Q & A session were, well, the audience. For some reason, perhaps due to Type A Personality run amok, several members of the audience felt it necessary to affirm their wannabe-foodie status by peppering Bourdain’s speech with self-congratulatory verbal outbursts. For instance, someone asked where Bourdain ate dinner last night. Bourdain couldn’t remember the name of the restaurant, but remembered the chef (Eric Ripert) and location (Ritz Carlton). Before he could finish his sentence, a woman starts screaming, “Westend Bistro! WESTEND BISTRO!!!” Okay. Seriously, lady. Calm down. This isn’t class, and no one is getting graded on participation points.

Still, others decided that they were being graded on food snob points. While answering the question about best restaurants, a multitude of people felt the need to yell out things like, “Yes!”, “Niiice!”, or “I’ve eaten there!” while Bourdain listed off some of the top restaurants in the world. The most irritating thing about this was that he wasn’t saying anything revolutionary. Only after he listed off some big names (The French Laundry, El Bulli) did he then turn to some of his personal favorites (like this random fish shack in Singapore). It is not especially exciting that both you and Anthony Bourdain love The French Laundry. EVERYBODY loves The French Laundry. Get over yourself already. I can tell you, this would have never happened in the Midwest. People are actually polite and do not feel the need to overcompensate for any insecurities they might have about not being the Biggest Food Snob on the Planet.

But, a few sour moments aside, Bourdain’s book talk reaffirmed what I’ve always liked about his show. His travel experiences, while different from mine, still really seem to capture some universal truths, especially when traveling to less-developed nations. For instance: The absurd usually has a way of finding you, especially if you’re adventurous (and/or in a Communist or post-Communist country). Great food and great dining experiences can happen anywhere. Not just in fancy restaurants with genius chefs, but in some bustling street market or in a dingy outdoor restaurant. And, finally, don’t be afraid–the more you try, the richer your experience.

Most food and travel tv shows on cable are vapid, stage-y, and ultimately unrealistic in their unwillingness to show both the pleasant and unseemly. Good food and good travel should challenge you, even if that means making you uncomfortable at times. That’s really the best part about it. How can we understand our world without contrast? You can’t have pleasure without pain, joy without melancholy, delicious without disgusting.

But enough of this nonsense. I need to go read my autographed Anthony Bourdain picture book.