I actually really hate that I have a sorta kinda like um you know . . . "hero." I hate that I revere another HUMAN who isn't in a career that is life endangering like a fireman, policeman, soldier or school teacher (yes male or female in all categories) but well confession time. . . .
You have to have heard me gush about Tony. Yes. that tony. Tony. Anthony Bourdain of the No Reservations goodness. where I met him first (met as in on TV not like I'm some crazy stalker - really, I'm not! - I swear that wasn't me!) Instant attraction. I read his books. My copy of his Kitchen Confidential is dog eared and loved - very much akin to my Julie Powell's Cleaving. Julie and Julia was only the start of her story. It is not a book for the faint of heart. Gritty - tough parts and tender parts and all things intestinal and hard to swallow. A cook's journey.
Cooks, we are a funny lot. we take feeding seriously. and work with knives. very very sharp knives. we have blood on our hands most days and flesh under our nails often. we get excited about exotic ingredients we have never worked with before JUST as much as familiar but forgotten things from our past.
What we do is something so very vital to existence but also just as basic. it could be simply filling and then forgotten because it served a need and the fuel moved the subject on to the the next activity - as no car remembers it's last fuel station. OR it's remembered - put down - etched into their very being = something akin to writing a sonnet because the meal was so amazing. earthshaking. breathtaking. like my first bowl of pho. I will never EVER forget it. and I only was brave enough to try it because of him. Tony. he made me try it. dared me even. and I'm a better NAY, more adventurous eater because of it.
you had to know there was a but coming right? kinda riffed on the heroes thing and you knew I hadda knock this asshole off the pedestal he never would have wanted me to put him on in the first place.
I watched him in this kind of crazy Pulp Fiction version of his life on tape. I saw No Reservations. Read his book (and please for the love of GOD don't waste your time with his fiction. He thought he was a cooking Micky Spillane and he should stick to what he knows and rocks - no fiction love okay?) But the BOOK was the start of it all. And thanks to HULU plus I'm now watching Cooks Tour which is his small screen start. what a f'n whining bitch who doesn't want to eat anything!!!! Dear Lord! The very people he makes fun of in NR are exactly who he was in Cooks! and to complicate matters he ended NR by starting mid stream with a show I CRAVE - FREAKING CRAVE called the Layover. THAT show has me salivating just thinking about it. So, short of his bad fiction he's a cooking god, tv maverick (hates Rachel Ray - what's not to love?) and made peace with Emeril. He and Mario are sorta friends and he loves all the offal I do.
wait for it . . . wait for it . . . bam
no it's not another shot at Emeril. it's that other shoe. the one that had to fall.
it sorta started with the Chase Sapphire plugs IN THE SHOW. I know I saw it coming. I just didn't want to. He was so punk. I was so right there with the Dead Kennedy's and Iggy and the Ramones. He did a show with Queens of the Stone AGE. He can't sell out. or can he?
enter. The Taste.
I can't even say it. Or frankly watch it. again.
saw 15 minutes. shut off the tv. and wanted to eat a quart of hagen daz rum raisin. Iron Chef is at least cool. And Alton keeps it snarky.
The Taste isn't bad. it's just boring. And that's worse. I hope that this isn't the end. I get he's older, married and a daddy. but. really?