I love my book group (smartest far-flung women you will find), and I don’t think we’ve ever eaten one of our own—but I will offer that apologetic aperitif now...
It was my pick: Anthony Bourdain’s The Nasty Bits, a cluster of human observations enrobed in dark, libidinous and dopamine-producing--for me--culinary essay. Over the past year, I have become hunched over with the distinctive honor/lead (rhymes with "bled" and "dread") mantle of picking tomes, so it was time I zagged.
After all, I sincerely doubted anyone could classify Bourdain's dizzyingly whip-smart food discourse to be lite fare after reading.
The conversation?--a bilious bouillabaisse of takes on Tony...as opposed to the book, I think.
What I didn’t count on was what is best-described as a Bourdain food allergy manifesting in some of our members. I believe there were at least three documented cases in a single evening--which sounds more like..Bourdain Poisoning, with its classic, universal symptoms: concern over his testosterone-damp swagger, the deep suspicion that one would not be liked/approved of by the author personally, and a curious dismissal of his sense of humor and self-effacing dorkiness (which goes along way as a digestif).
You just never know, in a communal eating experience, who will get the bad mussels, and how bad it will be.
Everyone nestled comfortably in my living room with tapas plates by 8:30 pm, and it began: “I just feel like Bourdain is judging me.” Never in the history of book group have we done this--evaluated a book on whether or not we thought the author would like us, or approve of us personally, and we have never, ever foisted the expectation on a book that it account for all of our viewpoints or steward our reading experience with some sort of equanimity.
There seemed to be some alarming question of whether or not Bourdain would resent a child’s food allergy, whether or not he would roll his eyes if that request walked into Les Halles. Whjhat?! Why does he have to like accomodating someone else? Especially food accomodations (not allergies--I'm talking about his exasperation with the vegetarians and vegans he pities) he clearly thinks are idiotic or at the core inconvenient for everyone? And what does this have to do with book?...
If we read Mein Kampf, would we evaluate and discuss the text based on the points where we agree with Hitler, where he "gets us?"
The difference between sitting in judgment and vehement opinion?....maybe nothing, and still I think it's there. Bourdain is mouthy, but fair--the universal heckler. Crepes, do I really find myself in the position of having to publicly explain/defend my attraction to another abrasive male?
Well, I like the lewd angle at which Bourdain's pork pen is clearly poised.
It should have occurred to me that he wouldn’t be everyone’s cup of hemlock, that not all would appreciate what I consider to be some of Bourdain's finer points as narrator and chronicler of human food experience: namely, slatherous and persistant use of some of the most delightfully cacophonous language available to a writer; many all-time favorites including: shekels, blow job, deli, rube and horrific. And of course, the f-word. But my favorite thing about Bourdain is that, as former addict, criminal, and current Everyman's Snob, he is NOT judgmental.
Best sound-bytes ever from the discussion, where I am trying to defend Bourdain (actually funnier without too much explanation):
"But he's not judging you--he's saying do what you want (even if it's stupid) and I'll do what I want--and don't try to tell me what I should do."
"But I assume we would draw the line somewhere with accepting another person's behavior."
"Come again?"
"How about eating babies? Would you eat a baby?
[interjection]
"In a plane crash, of course, I have no problem with that." (this from the vegetarian of 20 years for self-described ethical reasons)
What?!
Oh sweet cheese, why didn’t I make twee fruit and baby kabobs for this fey discussion, so I could drive a bamboo skewer into my own eye right now?
I, who have the trump card of potential Bourdain turn-offs (my bottomless/topless love of Bobby Flay), do not feel judged when he rails against the Bobby Flay brand and the evil Food Network empire. I do not really worry that he wouldn't like me. I think he would give me shit, but in the end Bourdain really gets that we are each a big contradictory bitch-broth of our own making. A jumble of ironies, the things we once scoffed at, and reconsidered. We are walking fusion cuisine. And, at the marrow, I doubt he'd truly sneer at a thing which roasts another's bone.
I am honestly shocked that some of the people in my living room did not and did not want to see food as the single unifying element of our lives—that they don’t really care about food. However, I respect that. I think it’s absurd, but I respect it. Food. Alcohol. Art. Sex. Aren’t those all the nutritional groups?
But this assumes that Bourdain is right of course--if you believe as I do he’s right about it all. I feel like some of the group missed what he was saying—missed him. That did make me sad, because the man makes my pastry bag explode. In the chapter on Woody Harrelson, I found it odd that the conversation veered into some focus on feeling like AB was overstepping a boundary in feeling sorry for Woody, who would never experience the classic cuisine of a centuries-old culture with his trendy raw diet, and completely bypassed the real question, which I feel is the essence of Bourdain, embodied in one of my favorite lines in the entire book: “why would anyone listen to Woody Harrelson about anything more important than how to be a working Hollywood actor or how to make a bong out of a toilet-paper roll and tinfoil?” (p. 169)
Areas of expertise—everyone has them. Opinions. Lips, snouts, ground-up nether-parts…indeed it is a matter of taste.
Slow food, fast food—we covered it all and then it turned (sigh, double-sigh) to politics.
“Any overriding philosophy or worldview is the enemy of good eating” AB TNB
“Any overriding philosophy or worldview is the enemy of good eating” AB TNB
What Bourdain seems to be saying is: leave me alone, I’ll eat what I want, you eat what you want, but keep your paws off my foie gras, and don’t expect me to be quiet about the places where you exasperate me. Oh—and don't be a pud.
Well, I love that he's an Everyman's Snob. And I plan on making him meatloaf if he ever comes to my house to dinner.
Ladies, I say this with love: some of you are clearly missing the Bourdain region on the tongue.
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The clock read 7:20, I was yet-unshowered, smelled inexplicably of an old bag of sauerkraut, and I thought: "I am not fucking making a tasting plate of these book chapters."
So, I made FAST zucchini fritters, served with a bottled tandoori sauce which came off some dusty shelf at a Big Lots or Marshall's. It was fantastic.
* The picture is so awful, I apologize. The fritters look like gangrenous bull's balls, but they were good.
Loose recipe follows--I'm not much for being exacting. Which is why I will never be a chef, but remain a cook.
ZUCCHINI FRITTERS:
I make lots of substitutions, but this is my method. The critical element is the scallion, fresh grated ginger, and garlic. Sweet Potatoes and cilantro (this was a cilantro-free zone, out of respect for Bourdain), fresh peas and mint...these are good too.
Grate 2 zucchinis with skin onto paper towels, let dry
Mix with a couple of eggs, a handful or so of panko
a little sprinkle of flour
salt, pepper
a couple of scallions
chopped shallot
slivers of carrot
grated ginger, garlic
heat oil in a pan (I like olive, butter and canola)
cook on each side and let come to room temp. Best at room temp--the egg keeps cooking.
serve with tandoori sauce, plain yogurt, crema fresca, sour cream...you get the idea.

3 comments:
this is one of the funniest damn things i have read in a long time. i have to ask, when you dropped the apps, did you refer to the sauce as "jizz"?
No...but I did think Bourdain would agree that a ribald she-fritter is best taken in hand by a sauce with some spunk.
Uhhhh.... I'll side step the above comments.
As one who attended the book group meeting, the discussion did not leave a particularly pleasant aftertaste. Mostly, because Bourdain's nuance seemed to have been lost in translation. Then again, dear HH, you are the babblefish through which all my own Bourdain knowledge is filtered, and others in the group did not necessarily have that advantage.
But as one who ate far more than her share of your zucchini fritters (and is grateful for not having been given even a passing double glance in doing so), I can attest that the fritters were fantastic!
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