Bourdain Summer
It’s a Bourdain Summer. That’s Tony Bourdain to you. We are laidback, smoking one and immersing in new cuisine with swagger and grace. Our pint? Always half full. Our body language? Forever chill. Our clothes? Bourdained.
But before I get into it all, a little praise for the Culinary Princess Diana.
Let me start by saying that Anthony Bourdain had a charisma that bled through the page. When I was first introduced to Kitchen Confidential it felt like someone had gifted me the Rosetta Stone in which to understand the world of restaurants.
It was 2021 and I was working at a hot Brazilian restaurant on Hillhurst Avenue in Los Feliz. Fresh out of college, this dysfunctional restaurant crew became my first foray into an adult world of post-diploma work life.
Our chef, no different than an eccentric Bourdain character, was an occasionally hotheaded short guy friendly one day absolutely your enemy the next.
I started off as a host wearing 2 masks at the 2nd peak of the LA pandemic surge funneling out Pão de queijo and Coxinhas into cardboard to-go boxes. When our patio opened for the spring we finally went down to just wearing one mask and started to welcome guests to sit inside at the bar.
Many of us (myself included) would drink small pints during our closing side work to wrap the day up. We left buzzed and exhausted.
In June, at the pressure of the restaurant’s manager, we started throwing DJ nights. All hell broke loose. Back of house drunk with front of house, all of us mixed together dancing with the public and really making trouble.
But in Bourdain’s eyes I understood. This was the restaurant world. And while mine was just a fraction debaucherous compared to Tony’s early matrimonial Provincetown escapades, I was earning my stripes.
Tony’s kitchen tales are wild and honest. When Kitchen Confidential came out, Tony faced backlash. I blame the success of his writing. His honesty and effortless charm force us to believe his storytelling. He is a hysterical, reformed fuckup that we want to root for. And because of this, we take this words as sober truth.
For me, what Kitchen Confidential did so successfully is paint several unforgettable images. And you can probably see them now in the gallery of your mind’s eye.
I see Tony, young and horny for life, posing with the tenured macho chefs in Provincetown.
I see Tony, tall and thin, standing next to a stove with full flames as “This is The End” blares to signal a kitchen's commencement.
I see Tony, cigarette out the side of his mouth up at the crack of dawn bathing in morning light, thinking of orders for Les Halles.
I see all these pictures together and they string a necklace of youth, adventure, fuck upery and passion.
When Tony complains about the personalities of his kitchen companions he does so with jest. Theirs is an appetizer, entree and dessert of lore. And we are fed a full story.
I tried to see the Brazilian kitchen through Tony’s wise eyes and it helped me make sense of the restaurant and the fun kooks in it.
But it also helped me leave it. When it was time to move home to New York it was something natural that I felt in my bones. Tony had made his bones. I had tried to make mine. It had been almost 10 months in the funny dysfunctional world of the Brazilian restaurant. And for the most part I had been a decent employee.
Unlike Tony, I had not shown up drunk (okay maybe hungover), high or severely battered. Sure there was the time I brought my late night hookup to the coffee shop beside the restaurant where our chef then saw both of us in our last night’s finest. But hey, that is showbiz.
In October of 2021 it was time for me to move on. I put in my 4 weeks. I returned the Bourdain book to the library shelf in the restaurant. I packed my Rav-4 full to the brim and moved home across the country.
3 years later and ironically I still work in hospitality. If Bourdain were narrating he might note that the restaurant life is not one you can really run from. He’s half right.
Last summer I reread Kitchen Confidential and all I could see were the images of Tony. What I felt was a mixture of jealousy and compassion for this tall salt and peppered man I never knew.
Behind my work desk I silently watched August go by and researched Tony’s life. I found some beautiful clips of him narrating his kitchen day and presenting during his book tour.
I clearly project onto Tony my lust and desire for adventure. I think of the writer Maggie Nelson who once said that as women we are told that our desires to adventure and wander alone are seen as reckless or welcoming of harm. She has this amazing quote below.
In some sense, I certainly wish to move as Tony did, to be “A Man of the Crowd”. With ease, and with the hungry desire to escape knowing you will be safe. These are feelings I regulate. Slyvia Plath has a nice quote about this consuming desire too.
But as for the outfitting, I read forums and some articles about the Tony Bourdain staples. And here is what I found:
1st look Bragard Chef Jacket Charcoal Vintage Levi 501s
2nd look Black Linen Button Down or this Clarks Mens Desert Sand Suede Boots Vintage Grey Levis
3rd look Black Gap Cotton Long Sleeve Black Mens Levis 501s
4th look Mens Black Gap Turtleneck Ralph Lauren Tweed Mens blazer
Wherever you are in reading this, I hope your spirit of adventure is alive. I hope you do as Tony did and smoke one with a cold beer in a sweating glass half full on a dinky plastic table. I hope we can match Bourdain’s swag in mind body and spirit. And I reckon we can do this through the expression of respect and joy.
Like paying homage without the hero worship crap. Maybe this just looks like consideration. Or the Desert sand boots. Or letting your beard grow out a bit. Or wearing the Tevas because they are comfortable and who gives a fuck. Or smoking the ocassional cigarette. Or trying a totally new kind of food.
I’m not sure. But believe me this. If you see me, hair fucked up, sweating like a sinner in church, pint full the day’s fading joy in the shadow of my eye sitting on a plastic chair giddy as fuck just KNOW that there are 2 glasses set. For the epic mise in place of me and my guest. Tony Bourdain, for whom we will pour one out to for all of fiery eternity. My friends, This is The End.
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I love the amount of Tony Bourdain tributes I seem to keep stumbling across on Substack. It's a rabbit hole I'm more than happy to be tumbling down. Also loved the outfitting research, I think most of us harbour a desire in some part of ourselves to dress like the great man.
This is awesome