2000 Ecco Press trade paperback received in the mail from Chenango Bridge, New York, USA, through PaperbackSwap. Water damage on the first few pages, yellowing throughout, and the cover's coming off. Anthony Bourdain (pronounced bore-DANE) reminds me of my ex. That man, however, could not cook, and Bourdain'd never like me because I don't eat mammals (not for political reasons -- I just don't like 'em).

From Publishers Weekly
Chef at New York's Les Halles and author of Bone in the Throat, Bourdain pulls no punches in this memoir of his years in the restaurant business. His fast-lane personality and glee in recounting sophomoric kitchen pranks might be unbearable were it not for two things: Bourdain is as unsparingly acerbic with himself as he is with others, and he exhibits a sincere and profound love of good food. The latter was born on a family trip to France when young Bourdain tasted his first oyster, and his love has only grown since. He has attended culinary school, fallen prey to a drug habit and even established a restaurant in Tokyo, discovering along the way that the crazy, dirty, sometimes frightening world of the restaurant kitchen sustains him. Bourdain is no presentable TV version of a chef; he talks tough and dirty. His advice to aspiring chefs: "Show up at work on time six months in a row and we'll talk about red curry paste and lemon grass. Until then, I have four words for you: 'Shut the fuck up.' " He disdains vegetarians, warns against ordering food well done and cautions that restaurant brunches are a crapshoot. Gossipy chapters discuss the many restaurants where Bourdain has worked, while a single chapter on how to cook like a professional at home exhorts readers to buy a few simple gadgets, such as a metal ring for tall food. Most of the book, however, deals with Bourdain's own maturation as a chef, and the culmination, a litany describing the many scars and oddities that he has developed on his hands, is surprisingly beautiful. He'd probably hate to hear it, but Bourdain has a tender side, and when it peeks through his rough exterior and the wall of four-letter words he constructs, it elevates this book to something more than blustery memoir.

Tony Bourdain & I have the same snarky sense of humor and taste in music. If this book wasn't in such rough shape, I'd add it to my permanent collection. I'll keep my eye out for another copy of this edition (it has a new preface, written on November 20, 2000).

RELEASE NOTES:

Going to Rudy's for lunch -- frites with samurai sauce and maybe a beer or cocktail. (Shh, don't tell the boss.) Since Tony Bourdain's so proud of the frites at Les Halles, I must release this book here. I'll leave it on one of the tables out front -- it's a beautiful day.

Rudy's Restaurant
370 Elm Street near the corner of Howe Street
(across from Bank of America--nee Fleet Bank--and Alpha Delta Pizza)
New Haven, Connecticut, USA
(203) 865-1242
rudysnewhaven.com
Sunday through Thursday 11:30 a.m.-1 a.m.; Friday & Saturday 11:30 a.m.-2 a.m.

"One long block over from the main drag of Chapel Street in New Haven, on Elm Street where it crosses Howe, sits Rudy's, a little neighborhood bar that has been pouring--and occasionally spilling--drinks for the public since that dreaded moment in U.S. history called 'Prohibition.'"

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