Showing posts with label No Reservations. Show all posts
Showing posts with label No Reservations. Show all posts

Friday, July 1, 2011

Blogging Bourdain-A Post Revisited










I decided to cook a turkey on Labor Day, which my daughter quizzically says, it isn't Thanksgiving. I promptly tell her that turkey can be eaten any day, any month and any time one needs lots of leftovers for the week. This being only the second week of school and the lunch lines being extremely long for the hot lunch, my daughter is forced to bring her lunch or not eat. So turkey sandwiches sounded good and easy for her lunches, hence roasting a turkey on Labor Day. Therefore, a marathon of No Reservations were in order, since there wasn't much of anything. It was either that or the MDA telethon. How long can one watch people answer phones and an amature talent lineup? Anthony Bourdain starts out on a road trip where the criteria for a road trip is lots of eating, drinking and of course puking, I would think that's his criteria for traveling abroad. He makes a stop at the Salton Sea where he recites an interesting history, of forgone popularity and of abandonment, of too much salt and lots of dead fish, of government purchase with no government benefits. It is here he makes a lunch stop at the community of Bombay Beach, currently home to 270 residents or in this case die hards living on the edge of the salty sea. Here he enters probably the only eating establishment where he orders the patty melt which he says he's never had one. Never had a patty melt? Pigeon necks yes, patty melts no. Do these people in there even know who he is? I think not, when one of them says can you eat and drink on the job? To which Anthony Bourdain says that's what I do. Well heck, where do I sign up? Next it's on to some redneck outpost. It is here that I am furiously surfing since this stretch of the road trip is a napper. They stop somewhere to eat a 72 oz steak, the sounds of Deliverance banjos in the background and somewhere there's a redneck wedding going on. Next it's on to Cartagena, romanticized in the "Romancing the Stone", eating ceviche and strolling through the local market for a lunch at Cecilia's. Cecilia is cooking seafood rice in black kettles on an open flame which looked absolutely delicious, where Anthony Bourdain and his guide, Jorge are lunching on endangered turtle stew, is that legal? Slow cooked and perfect. Next a precariously rough boat ride from Columbia's shore to an island time forgot, for some freshly caught lobsters for lunch. I imagine if you have steady sea legs one might be able to enjoy the fresh catch, me, I'd be seasick for 3 days. Anthony Bourdain ask a local if he prefers to live on the island or live there as he points out to Colombia with it's skyscrapers and big city life. The guy says he rather live here on the island. Who wouldn't? No jobs, no responsibilities, just dive for your supper. Next it's on to San Antonia for the deep fried lower intestines of the pig, could that be pig rectum? I'm not too hot on that even if it's deep fried, but the cornmeal cake with fresca cheese and sweeten condense milk looked awesome, although as a child, I remember I threw up on sweeten condense milk. I ate so much poor man's pudding I puked. Poor man's pudding recipe to follow. The next day Anthony Bourdain ate a breakfast of rice and beans and fried eggs and fried plantains which made my mouth water with hunger. It is those moments I live for, because, Columbia for all it's fighting back against the drug cartels makes my bucket list as one of the last places on earth I plan to visit, Romancing the Stone or not.



Poor Man's pudding-one can of sweetened condensed milk. Put can unopened in a sauce pan, add water and boil for 40 to 50 minutes. Let cool, open can and eat.

Tuesday, May 24, 2011

Anthony Bourdain's Worst Meal Ever!




It was another Sunday when I caught Anthony Bourdain in Namibia. This should be good, anything in Africa promises to be an adventure in dining. Here Tony and the bushman are hunting for their breakfast. No quick stop to the local Starbucks or Mickey D's. Nope, it's dry as dust, what could they possibly be hunting for? Why ostrich eggs of course. Tony has a pang of sympathy (for their meager find) which probably should have lasted a lot longer so he could have come to his senses and bowed out of breakfast with the Bushman, leaving them to consume their precious find, but where's the adventure in that? The Bushman tell Tony that they are going to make breakfast right there on the spot. Humm, says Tony? Right here? Not a kettle or pot within 200 miles. Patience, wait for it. Apparently the Bushman are experts at the spontaneous. They quickly heat the ground with their coals. Carefully they make a hole at the top of the ostrich egg, poke a stick through it to scramble the contents. After the sand is sufficiently hot, they flatten the dirt out in a nice circle. Yikes, where's the fry pan I gasp! The Bushman dump the contents of the egg onto the dirt and then proceed to cover the eggs with more dirt and wood. Ugh! Tony is amazing calm during all this dirt cooking. I would be retching in the bush. What seems like an interminable amount of time to cook, for god sakes, it's just eggs Tony says, the Bushman uncover their meal, a baked dirt frittata. They pry pieces of the ash covered eggs, never you mind that it is covered in ash, dirt and whatever dung might be on the land and eat with relish. Tony however is trying to dust his piece off, what's a little grit among friends? Arguably possibly the worst meal I have ever seen on this show! But wait there's more. A warthog dinner is next to what Tony calls his worst meal ever. How quickly he forgets the baked dirt frittata! Tony goes hunting again, a lot of hunting on this episode, where he actually kills the poor creature. Here he gets to sample some of the more juicy parts of the warthog, namely the rectum and brains. When Tony says the tree beetles were the best thing he ate all day, you know it had to be bad. We don't get to see Tony puke his guts, but I'm sure it was on his mind. And when Tony says it's bad, it's got to be bad. Move over Andrew Zimmern!