by Anthony Bourdain
First sentence: “Dear Nancy, I’m about as far away from you as I’ve ever been – a hotel (the hotel, actually) in Pailin, a miserable one-horse dunghole in northwest Cambodia, home to those not-so-adorable scamps, the Khmer Rouge.”
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Content: There’s a lot of swearing, including multiple f-bombs. It’s in the Cooking Reference section of the bookstore (which is where we put all foody books like this.)

C went on an Anthony Bourdain kick last year, reading a number of his books (and we eventually watched the documentary about him as well), and this is the one she ended up talking about the most. It’s his eating tour – a narrative of the year he spent filming for a Food Network show he did – going to places like France, Portugal, Russia, Japan, Vietnam, and Cambodia in search of the “perfect” meal.

My thoughts? Well, this man would eat literally anything. You put it in front of him, told him it was edible, he would eat it. Which is simultaneously terrifying and impressive. (Seriously: some of the stuff he ate is not for the weak to read about!) He does, however, know how to write about food. It comes off the page, and much of it sounds like it’d be amazing to try. His description of the 20-course meal at The French Laundry in Napa Valley, California, had me looking up to see if I could afford the place. (Spoiler: I can’t.) I really liked his descriptions of the food markets in Vietnam, the weirdness of Tokyo, and the whole experience he had in Portugal where they slaughtered the fatted pig for him.

However, Bourdain was an ass, and maybe he mellowed in his later years, but in this one, he’s still very much an ass. He’s a snob, he knows he’s a snob, he doesn’t care that he’s a snob, because you know what? He’s right. If something is bad, he will let you know. If he doesn’t like someone, he will let you know. He has this sense that he’s working class (sure, he was a chef, but working class? No one in working class summers in France!) and he doesn’t like it if you don’t respect that, or if you think you’re like him and you’re not. He still has a lot of anger (not as much as Kitchen Confidential, but still) about the world in this one, and it comes across loud and clear on the page. I think that’s part of what took me so long to read this book (it took 2 weeks for a 274-page book): I just didn’t want to spend the time with him. Or at least not long amounts of time. He’s abrasive and unapologetic about it.

Still, the man knew how to write about food. And that’s worth something.