We were very sad to hear the news that the gentle giant and disruptive punk of the cooking world, Anthony Bourdain, had sadly passed away last week.
Bourdain was a talented chef whose incendiary memoir ‘Kitchen Confidential‘ exposed the true life of chefs – taking them out from the secretive walled away kitchens, telling the tales of rampant drug use, alcoholism, long hours, workplace verbal abuse, machismo and military-like hierarchies. The minutiae of his detailed accounts of the fascinating lifestyle of the people who bring us our dining experiences, both fine and fast and fried, spawned decades of copycat books and TV shows.
He was the original celebrity chef – a title which happily took Bourdain away from the chaos of the kitchen and allowed him to simply champion chefs and other artists through food.
One thing Bourdain loved to do was effervesce with passion about other cooks and artists – he filled his TV shows with inspiring people and rained adulation and praise on them without hesitation or shyness. I have often found this to be common amongst those suffering with internal demons – depression, anxiety – they see in others what they cannot always see in themselves.
Anton from The Brian Jonestown Massacre cooks for Anthony Bourdain
Newcombe’s main cooking style seems to be super ad hoc and includes ‘stabbing things’ and features a painfully long cut of him stick blending a pot of potatoes ON THE FLOOR.
Newcombe’s cooking sequence takes place in an apartment where he lives (of course he does) independently of Bourdain. The next day the chef and the musician meet up to go thrifting at the markets and dine together. Bourdain eats Eisbein – which Bourdain talks about in signature aggressive Bourdain food reverie – it’s ‘pork knuckle, or more accurately, a big freakin’ shank. It’s brined, cured then boiled with spices until tender and falling off the bone.’
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