The Deal With Anthony

If you really want to know the “real” Anthony Bourdain, take a look at the essay he selected, featured at the end of the book, for the $10,000 prize in a contest for who could write something that best captured the essence of why it’s important to cook well.  The winning essay, a totally unpretentious piece by an amateur writer about his wife’s dish of arroz con pollo waiting for him after a night shift, is emotional and tender.

But Anthony Bourdain doesn’t want you to think that’s the meat and potatoes of his personality – or even the arroz y pollo.  He wants you to think he’s got a little of that, but it’s on the side.  He’s sort of a mess.  Fortunately, he’s a lovable mess, and a recognizable and honest mess who isn’t afraid to say, “Yeah, OK.  You got me. I’m a mess.”  Plus, he’s coming to the city where I live to speak on my birthday and I don’t think it’s coincidence.  I think he’s actually coming here to cook for me.  Right?  RIGHT?

His newest autobiographical-ish book, Medium Raw: A Bloody Valentine to the World of Food and the People Who Cook, is fun to read.  Bourdain is a good writer.  I don’t know if his voice comes through so clearly because I have watched an embarrassing number of episodes of his show, No Reservations, but it reads as it should:  written by a human, not a marketing department.  It’s also maddening, but in a good way.  And I know that doesn’t exactly compute, and I also know that I am biased because of my almost maternal affection for the guy, but I found myself turning the pages and mentally throwing up my hands and sighing, “Oh ANTHONY.”  Like he’s some kind of hopeless teenager.  Which, of course, he is not.   I can’t help it.  I adore the guy.

Here’s what I mean:  Towards the end of the book he embarks on a screed about a Food Network personality and a type of food featured regularly on his show (not necessarily that he prepares but that appears in various restaurants around the country), “I just dislike – really dislike – the idea that somebody would but Texas-style barbeque inside a fucking nori roll.  I was, and remain angry that there are genuine pit-masters who’ve made a calling of getting pork shoulder just right – and sushi chefs who worked three years on rice alone before being deemed worthy to lay hands on fish – and here’s some guy on TV blithely smashing those two disciplines together like junkers in a demolition derby.  A pre-chopped onion is not okay, the way I look at it – no mater what Rachael or Sandra tell you.  The shit in a can is not anywhere nearly as good- and almost always more expensive – than stuff you can often make yourself just as quickly.  It’s…it’s just….wrong to tell people otherwise.“    Yet, he doesn’t go off on a similar harangue about the complete pretentious absurdity of the fact that his friend and hugely famous superstar chef Thomas Keller “famously insists on storing his fish in their natural ‘swimming’ position.”  Which seems to me to be a target custom made for a rant.  There are these kinds of inconsistencies all over the place.  Oh, Anthony.  The interview with Bourdain at the end of the book is just as schizophrenic and just as endearing and just as entertaining and just as exasperating.

Nevertheless, you have to admire a guy who devotes entire chapters to dismantling his enemies on a cellular level and is so funny while doing it that you forget he is gutting them and handing them their innards to hold while he delivers the coup de grace and to explaining, fish by fish, the way one guy from the Dominican Republic breaks down seafood at le Bernardin and, critical point, makes it fascinating to read.

Philadelphia Magazine did a side by side and point by point comparison of Anthony Bourdain and his best buddy Eric Ripert, with whom he’s coming to town for this speaking engagement, entitled “Sexy Chef Smackdown.”  They declared Bourdain the winner.   I’ll let you know what I think on November 3rd.

p.s.  I already know what I think.

 

Mistress of My Domain

Well Read

A Visit from the Goon Squad by Jennifer Egan – the book that everybody is (was, actually, I’m just late to the party – side note: I am always late to the party, or early.  I have been known to show up on the wrong day to the party.  I mis-read invitations constantly.  If you invite me to something, please forgive me when I show up at the wrong time or wrong day, just send me home and tell me when to come back) talking about.  Pulitzer Prize winner.  I struggle here with what to say about this…novel?  Not exactly.  It’s a collection of vignettes that are linked together by characters whose stories touch each other at different moments in time.  Time is the goon.  The characters’ lives are visited by the goon squad, which sounds much more menacing that it actually turns out to be.  Egan’s imagination is extraordinary – worth the price of admission to behold.  Her writing is tight.  Her characters are compelling.  But.  The characters I started to get my hooks into were snatched away too quickly and often replaced, as I was hustled into the next vignette, with one or two I didn’t care enough about.  Sometimes those characters reappeared in a different time or place, sometimes they didn’t.  So, a resounding yes for skill and interest and a yeah, I get it, but I’m not doing back flips otherwise.

Olive Kitteridge by Elizabeth Strout could not be more different than A Visit from the Goon Squad except that it’s also very similar.  Which is the kind of thesis statement that my students used get hollered at for writing.  Vignettes, almost sketches really, that each could stand alone as a short story but together weave into a complete novel depicting a life in a small Maine village.  I’m not doing it justice, any of it.  The characters, the writing, the mood, the tone, the atmosphere.  Just read it.

All Souls by Christine Schutt – a friend at work gave this book to me, without saying much about it.  Other than the fact that I still can’t figure out what the title had to do with anything, I loved it.  It was AGAIN, a novel of  parts.  Students in a swank private, girls’ day school in Manhattan take turns as narrators of this story.  And if you doubt that 17 and 18 year old girls in this setting are this sophisticated and this jaded and this calculating and this world-weary, you are wrong.  They have been since I was in boarding school, and I can only imagine that they are more so, now.  And their mothers are this scary, too.  Prepare to be startled by the content, not horrified, but edified, and charmed by the writing, which is poetic, but not cloying.

An Irreverent Curiosity: In Search of the Church’s Strangest Relic in Italy’s Oddest Town by David Farley – I mentioned this at the beginning of the summer and got a lovely note from the author.  1.  I love travel narratives.  2.  I love hearing about the goofy undertakings that people get excited about.  3.  I love it when people have the stones to follow through on these things.  4.  I am always impressed when people find a way to make a living while having adventures.  5.  This book is about Jesus’s penis.  6.  This town is full of crazy people.  7.  What’s not to love about this?  This book has all the makings of a perfect summer read.  8.  I wanted to hear more about the food.  9.  I am still, a month after I finished the book, freaking out because Farley didn’t do what I feel VERY STRONGLY – note obnoxious use of all caps – he needed to do, aided by camo makeup, black caps, rubber soled shoes, flashlights, and a crowbar at the end of the book.  I am not explaining it because if you read it you will know what I mean.  David Farley, if you are reading this and you did do it, I want an email and I want to know what you found ASAP.

Cutting for Stone by Abraham Verghese – This is the best book I’ve read all year.  My mother gave me this book ages ago and it was sitting next to my bed taunting me.  Everyone kept asking, “Have you read Cutting for Stone?” and I say, “No, but I hear it’s really good.”  And then my friend Carly borrowed it for book club and read it in a week and loved it and gave it back to me, and I had just finished another book, so I just started it, and then didn’t put it down until I was finished.  I inhaled it.  I’m not even sure how to describe what it’s “about.”  I learned a great deal while reading this book.  I had very strong feelings about the characters.  There were two places where I was moved to tears. I was heavily invested in understanding why certain events unfolded the way they did and when I learned what had happened I understood the characters’ motivations entirely because Verghese had created such thorough and realistic and complex histories for everybody.  Just brilliant.

Hostess

We had a July Wednesday Spaghetti. It was a little hurried because we wanted to make sure to get it in there before our dear, dear friends moved away to Connecticut, a fact that is such a strange grown-up reality.  Their move is for so many reasons obviously the right choice for their family, and yet it is so hard for them to go, and hard for the people here who love them to let them go.  Blech.

Other than that, the extent of my hostessing is happening right now; there are some extra kids in the house playing with legos and a train set and they’ll probably go outside in the yard in a while and run around.  I might make some grilled cheese sandwiches in a while.  I am still wearing pajamas. Ta da.

 

Vicarious Teenage Literary Angstiness and a Very Shallow Pool

But I mean that in a good way.

Here’s how I am I spending my summer:

I wake up, make coffee, slob around the house a bit, rouse my offspring from their sound sleep – much to their vociferous dismay – to get dressed and eat some damn breakfast already, drive to the pool, and park my butt in a deck chair under a big umbrella.  And there I sit for about three hours while my kids have swim practice and then frolic in the heavily chlorinated pool with their friends.  And while I sit, I drink more coffee with my friend Tara and discuss Very Important Matters.  Such as which pool dad might actually be a secret agent.  And what is really involved in a Brazilian bikini wax.  And how good the new kind of yogurt with the two flavors mixed together is, because really, the one with the chocolate and the raspberry together?  Wow.

When I’m not wrangling these Very Important Matters, I’m sometimes reading books.  I’ve finished re-reading fifteen of the sixteen Janet Evanovich books in preparation for reading number seventeen which just came out, which I think pretty much guarantees my spot in the trash reading Hall of Fame as well as the OCD Hall of Fame to say nothing of the Please Get Over This Thing With The Secret Agents Already (sort of explains the pool dad thing, yes?) Hall of Fame, as well as a few books for work, and approximately thirty-eight women’s magazines in order to maintain the appropriate balance of self-loathing and feelings of mediocrity and poor body image poolside.

I also read a book that I would normally not have picked up, had the lovely people at Penguin, via BlogHer, not sent to me, Whatever Happened to Goodbye, by Sarah Dessen.  Sarah Dessen has written a veritable truckload of young adult novels and I am forever seeing teenage girls with their noses buried in one of them.  I’ve never read any of them, but now that I have, I see why they are ever ubiquitous.  I wrote about the book at BlogHer, and I would be thrilled and delighted if you’d head on over via clicky clicky and read the review.  In short, I said it was well written, authentic, and, if I do say so myself, I happen to know a thing or two about teenagers, so you can take that to the bank.

And now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get back to some Very Important Matters – like whether it’s more important to have well shaped eyebrows or perfectly manicured toes.  Feel free to leave your opinion in the comments.

Peace.

Love.

Deep thoughts.

Wear sunscreen.