on tony bourdain

on tony bourdain

in 2005 or so, back when having cable tv was still a thing, i was cruising through channels one day and happened upon “no reservations” on the travel channel. i was intrigued. and kept watching. and kept watching tony bourdain as he traveled over the world eating its foods, good and bad, from the travel channel to cnn to on my netflix queue. i love his narration, so i picked up his books: first “kitchen confidential.” then i checked out his fiction. when “medium raw” came out, i ordered it on its publish date. i own his cookbook that recently came out. when nate and i went to see alton brown a couple years ago, alton brown said “you may think i’m the god of food. that’s wrong. that’s anthony bourdain.” i often daydreamed about what it would be like to be his fixer, what i would show him in my area of the world (not that he would ever come to central mn but a girl can dream). i meant to look up when he was on tour and go see him in whatever it was he was touring for. i followed him on twitter. i followed his production company (zero point zero) on twitter. i followed them both on instagram. i admired his F-you attitude to a lot of things, the cynicism in a lot he did, and the way you could see when his attitude warmed toward something, most likely a grandma cooking in her home. the way he and ZPZ made each episode of his travels a true work or art, the words moving with the camera shots, the focus pulling at your eye and the words at your heart. the artistry that they managed to pack in to each hour of travel talk. and still what always brought me back was his narration, his way with words, making a person yearn to be there with him, traveling the world and logging it with food, with a cynical eye, with a drink or three, a cigarette in the early days, and always, always with words.

fangirl. always will be.

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