You are unlikely to lay your hands on a more hectically, strenuously entertaining book for some time. Our hero eats and swashbuckles round the globe with perfect-pitch attitude and liberal use of judiciously placed profanities. Bourdain can write. His timing is great. He is very funny and is under no illusions whatsoever about himself or anyone else. But most of all, he is a chef who got himself out of his kitchen and found, all over the world, people who understand that eating well is the foundation of harmonious living. –Robin Davidson, Amazon.co.uk
My thoughts: The verdict is in—I don’t like Anthony Bourdain. Sure, he says some humorous things now and again about the Food Network, but I hate how he can’t go a chapter without referencing his penis or someone’s rack. How irrelevant and uncouth! He’s also a little racist (or maybe just brainless) because he titled his chapter on Nha Trang, a beach town in Vietnam, “Can Charlie Surf?” Are you kidding me?
What bothers me the most about Bourdain is that he fancies himself as a no nonsense chef with street credibility; the antithesis of Rachael Ray and company. When in reality he needs to embrace the sell-out within because he most definitely did sell-out. His continual biting of the hand that feeds him is lame. Own it Bourdain!
While my feelings for the man are lukewarm at best, the book was actually a decent read when Bourdain wasn’t being vulgar or offensive. His travels to Russia and Morocco were especially interesting because their cuisine is often overlooked and under-appreciated. He made borsch and cous cous sound like world class offerings. His dinner at the French Laundry was also a pleasure to read.
The book’s concept was interesting, but I would’ve enjoyed it a lot more if someone other than Bourdain wrote it. Say, Ruth Reichl?
