Seeing this wonderful trailer for the new documentary about Bourdain inspired me to finally pick up Kitchen Confidential, which I'd somehow never read. I was fond of Bourdain: though I only watched his various shows occasionally, my partner would generally watch the episode of Parts Unknown that covered whatever place we were traveling to to get recommendations (and then sometimes we'd re-watch the episode after coming back, as a way to revisit our trip), and so perhaps part of my love for the man is because all of his recommendations were fantastic, so I am indebted to him for some really wonderful experiences. We also have some of his cookbooks, and have made some great meals out of them. I like his style, which is a kind of no-bullshit attitude that is leavened with a deep solidarity with people experiencing any form of oppression. And so it was interesting to finally read the book that made him famous — or rather, to listen to it, read by the man himself, in his wonderfully distinctive voice.
You can see why Kitchen Confidential rocked the foodie world when it came out. I've read a handful of restaurant memoirs, and this one is still by far the most explicit in revealing some of the less appealing sides of the business. And not just the gross stuff, like days-old fish being served up as specials, but also the exploitative labor practices, and more significantly, the hard realities of what they drive people to do. Bourdain is open about the toxicity of the culture in kitchens, and he doesn't exempt himself in his descriptions of it. Actually, one of the most interesting moments is towards the end, when he describes the kitchen of a chef whom he admires, and marvels at how it essentially contradicts almost everything he's said about what restaurants are like. Maybe, he realizes, the chaotic conditions in places he's worked is due in part to...himself, and the way he operates. Maybe he's part of the problem.
It's hard not to read this book through the lens of knowledge about the tragic end of Bourdain's life, and I think it's unavoidable that the many passages about depression, rage, and a sense of futility resonate differently in light of it. From this angle, one could say that this is a book that traces the trajectory of a single man's growth and development, from a bratty privileged asshole to a far more self-aware, and openly flawed, man with a deep appreciation, not just of food, but also of what it takes to make it, and perhaps a renewed sense of moral obligation. Something that is especially wonderful is that this development is very clearly a work in progress, and one where you can see some of the seeds of what came later — one of the final chapters of the book describes a trip to Japan, and it's really fascinating to see Bourdain not only thrill to the experience of a cuisine that's entirely new to him, and recapture an excitement that had seemed somewhat lost, but also to watch as he learns how to travel. It's kind of amazing to see him be so bad at it at first — having to hype himself up to go into a noodle bar and order rather than eating his first Japanese meal at Starbucks, for instance.
Though the central narrative here is really about Bourdain himself, first, and about restaurant culture and labor, second, there's also a fair amount about food and cooking that's kind of fun and interesting to. It's because of this book, for instance, that my partner disdains garlic presses (and I will admit that in the full context of the entire book, I might be a little more convinced, though I will absolutely keep using it for the garlic that goes in salad dressings). My favorite part was the paean to shallots, which he says are just utterly underused in home cooking, and I fully agree.
Anyways. I don't think Bourdain was a saint (and he would no doubt think you were an idiot if you disagreed), and I don't think his various shows were without problems,* but I have a great appreciation for the man, and this book made it even stronger.
* Total tangent, but something that really annoyed me was that his Istanbul episode was filmed during Ramadan. Wtf? That's just dumb timing, and a poor representation of the city. But on the other hand, maybe it actually did some valuable work in demystifying and unpacking some stereotypes. I dunno. This is part of what makes me a bit leery of Parts Unknown, and I kind of think that it was something that Bourdain struggled with as well — wanting to share an appreciation for travel and different parts of the world, but also being aware of the ethical problems involved, and so much of the awfulness of tourism. You sensed that he felt responsible, and in a complex way, even as he also wanted to refuse that responsibility and pretend it was just about enjoying the food. Or so it seemed to me. In the grand scheme of things, I think it was actually more honest and open about the politics of it all than a lot of other foodie shows are these days. But I haven't really watched enough to make a strong claim in that regard.
No comments:
Post a Comment