Beyond balut with Bourdain

Anthony Bourdain is the most rock-star of cable TV’s rock-star chefs. As host of the Discovery Travel & Living show No Reservations, he travels the world in search of hedonistic pleasures and extreme culinary adventures, to the point he’s been labeled the Indiana Jones of the gastronomic world.

When friends found out I was interviewing him, a large number of attractive young women started sending swoony texts, basically ready and willing to offer themselves on the altar of Bourdain. If I had brought the whole entourage with me, the episode Bourdain is filming on the Philippines might be about something completely different — less about food and more Apocalypse Now, one of this avowed film nerd’s favorite movies (he’s eager to see any remaining sets from where it was filmed in the Philippines).

Now married to an Italian wife and father to a baby daughter, Bourdain has relinquished some of the trappings of the rock-star-chef lifestyle. He quit smoking (he’s currently on Chantix), is rarely in the kitchen (“My wife won’t let me; she hates my cooking”), and his groupie days are long since over (“If you give in to that you’ll find yourself in a very dark place”). So I guess my girlfriends are plain out of luck.

But Bourdain is finally here, and he looks great for 52. He’s been in the Philippines two days and already he’s loving it. In Pampanga for a day and now in Manila for another, so far today he’s visited the Farmer’s Market in Cubao. “I had adobo shrimp, really amazing crab cooked in coconut milk with chili peppers, some bitter melon, squash, eggplant, long beans (pinakbet),” he enumerates, as we tuck into a specially prepared dinner at Spiral, a restaurant in the Hotel Sofitel Philippine Plaza Manila, where he’s staying. “Some orange noodle thing with egg on top, that was quite good (pancit luglug). Lumpia, that was quite good, fried and fresh.”

This chef, who earned his stripes cooking at Les Halles in New York City, thinks Filipino food’s mix of Chinese, Malay, Spanish and American influences has led to some confusion. “The biggest surprise for me is the Mexican dimension,” he says. “In many ways, that’s what people who have no idea of Filipino food are not getting. The food is, in many ways, not so much Spanish but New World.”

Here are excerpts from our almost two-hour-long roundtable conversation:

THE PHILIPPINE STAR: What did you know about the Philippines before you came here?

ANTHONY BOURDAIN: Almost nothing. (laughter) I’ll be honest, I’m sort of a buff on 20th-century military history, so our involvement here… But I didn’t know much, particularly culinarily. In fact, every time I go to a place I’ve never been before, I’m always looking to compare it to someplace I already know, and that’s been difficult here. There’s no other place like it. It has a very unique flavor, and the way people identify themselves culturally is very different here than, say, Singapore or Malaysia, where people tend to identify themselves with where their grandparents came from first and their country second. So I’m kind of wrestling with it. I’m still confused in a really wonderful way. It’s hard to pin down. I’ve come to no conclusions. I’ve just having a really wonderful time and people have been extraordinarily nice.

Why was the Philippines virtually your last stop in Southeast Asia?

Because I knew so little. It was a blank page to me, flavor-wise. Unfortunately, your culinary ambassador is balut. It’s the first thing that knuckleheaded travel writers, travel TV guys, tend to do first. Because it freaks out Americans who see it, it’s a good, easy visual, and even Filipinos I meet, I tell them I’m going to the Philippines, they laugh and say, “Oh, you’re going to have balut?” But I’ve had it. (Bourdain first tasted balut in Vietnam.) It’s so last week, you know? I’ve had the Filipino version in Queens a number of times.

How does our version compare to the Vietnamese version?

It’s a half-term egg, you know? (laughter) I don’t have any strong feelings… It’s far from the weirdest, or best, or worst thing I’ve ever had.

What’s the worst thing you’ve ever eaten?

Fermented shark in Iceland. They rot it, putrefy it, pickle it in lactic acid. It makes durian smell like perfume, and I like durian.

What won’t you eat? Would you ever try dog, for instance?

I honestly believe that given the choice between offending my host and violating my deeply held principles on what or does not constitute a pet, I’m going to say pass the puppy head. I would eat it.

What would your last meal on earth be like?

If I was really, really hungry, I would say roasted bone marrow. But maybe some really good, high-test sushi — one piece of uni (sea urchin), nice warm crumbly rice with one piece of seaweed — you know, a $300 piece of sushi! Some really good stuff! I wouldn’t mind dying with a piece of that hanging out of my mouth.

What’s in your survival kit when you’re eating in exotic countries like ours?

Nothing … a little Imodium, that’s about it. What can you do? Sometimes you just got to take one for the team. The single worst thing, though, was eating the business end of a warthog in India — the pig’s ass. Crap, fur and sand in every bite is really not a good idea. That was a full course of antibiotics after that.

From what you’ve tried so far, which dish gets your vote to become our Filipino national dish?

I don’t know yet. I’m told sisig is the national dish. And that is delicious. That’s everything I love about food — chopped, sizzling pork bits, you know, with all that good, rubbery, fatty, crispy... it goes well with beer. It’s just wonderful.

You know what surprised me, though? We did the four-way goat business and there was a stew of basically goat guts with bile floating over the top. Now, I’ve had bile straight before, with whiskey, and all of my experiences with bile have been pretty unpleasant — most of them occurred after a long night of drinking on a bathroom floor — but it was good, I dug that dish a lot!

You’ve eaten so much strange food on your show. At this point how does your palate distinguish what’s good from what’s not?

Good is good. I either like it or I don’t. It’s either fun or it’s not. I’m not a critic and I don’t present myself as a critic. Professionally, some things you’ve done it enough to know, or you’ve eaten it enough to know on a technical level if it’s a competently made omelet or it’s not.

How do you think we could turn the Philippines into a food destination on a par with Singapore, Thailand, and Vietnam?

You push the food. You make that the central focus of tourism spending. Even Singapore was kind of late to catch on to that. I think they were kind of surprised that people were flying all the way there to eat! You find a way to encapsulate… it’s an unfair thing to capture in a few images and dishes the heart and soul of Filipino cuisine, but you promote that. It’s a matter of filling in the blanks.

Listen, at every food and wine festival in America, there’s a table set up with the wines and cheeses of Spain. They spend big money on getting out the message. It’s a five- or 10-year plan to define in people’s minds certain products they feel they do well and should be their flagship.

When you were a guest judge on Top Chef Season 4 you eliminated the Filipino chef, Dale Talde. Arguably he was a better chef than Lisa Fernandes, who ended up in the top three. I have a bone to pick with you about that!

I’m really glad you asked that. It was a very, very unpopular decision with the audience. Reason was, of the three remaining candidates, he was clearly the most talented — there was no question of that — but man, did he have a bad day. I mean, he had the worst day ever. He made one bad decision after another, really fatal, lethal decisions. That butterscotch scallops he made was pretty much right behind the fermented shark — worst ever. He was a terrible leader that day.

Interestingly, they interviewed him afterwards, and he said, “You know, I deserved to go home that day.” He knew he screwed up, which I admire. Listen, he’s going to do fine in his career. When you look at Lisa, and that other one, Spike — I wish these guys had given me a better reason to send one of them home. They’re not likeable. But Dale really screwed up. It wasn’t just that one dish, the scallops — though it was spectacularly awful — it was every decision he made that day was unchefly. He didn’t take credit for anything; he pointed the finger. He deserved to go home based on the food that day. And remember, when you judge on Top Chef, you’re not watching the previous episodes, because they haven’t aired yet.

I felt bad sending Dale home. By the way, it wasn’t a hard decision. A lot of decisions, wespend an hour, sometimes more, arguing. Ten minutes after sitting down, we’re all looking at each other. Jose Andres, a great chef, was saying, “Dude, what’s up with those scallops?” I wish Dale well. He’s a really talented chef.

Could you name your Top 5 chefs and restaurants in world?

The list would change, but Thomas Keller (French Laundry), Fergus Henderson (St. John Restaurant), Ferran Adria (El Bulli), Juan Mari Arzak (Restaurante Arzak), Andoni Luis Aduriz at the Mugaritz. Victor Arguenzon in Echevarri, this tiny little village outside San Sebastian, Spain. He just grills stuff really simply over the individual fires of custom-made equipment. Jiro Ono in Tokyo (Sukiyabashi Jiro), Donovan Cooke in Hong Kong (HK Jockey Club), Mario Batali (Babbo, etc.), who doesn’t cook but as a spiritual leader he’s someone I really respect. Martin Picard in Montreal (Au Pied de Cochon), who almost killed me with foie gras — he’s a maniac.

What do you like better, the molecular gastronomy of Ferran Adria or the classical cuisine of Thomas Keller?

I think there’s room for both. And I enjoy them as often, which is to say not that often. I would much rather eat good street food, or at a simple trattoria, or agriturismo in Italy, or a tapas bar — someplace that does two or three things really well in an unpretentious way. I would rather eat that every day. I think French Laundry is maybe the best fine-dining restaurant in the world, but believe me, after eating 20 courses there you’re not ready to go back next week. There’s a place for it. El Bulli is not just a great meal, it’s truly an adventure. Ideally, you would go there once a year, because he changes the menu, and you want to know what he’s doing.

Is molecular gastronomy the future of cooking?

Whatever you feel about it, there are certain methods and techniques that Ferran Adria has developed and will develop that 50 years from now will become standard practice in kitchens. He didn’t introduce low-temperature sous vide cooking, but I think there’s a huge future in that, for instance. His hot jellied consommé is something we’ll be seeing in 50 years. And it’s all he wants. He said to me, “If I come up with one really good idea a year, that’s enough.”

What do you think of commercial chefs like Bobby Flay and Mario Batali?

I have a huge respect for Mario Batali. He’s smarter than me, funnier than me; he runs a real empire of fantastic restaurants that I love eating at. Every one is different from the others, has a unique voice, a unique cuisine. Every one has changed the face of dining in America in a positive and exciting new way. There’s nothing he can’t do. He knows everything. He’s a genius, a great cook and businessman. He’s a master of the universe.

Bobby Flay, I don’t know as well. Obviously I don’t like his shows. He runs a chain of very decent, quality restaurants, which is certainly something I never did. He’s not Alain Ducasse or — a better example — he’s not Joel Robuchon, but he doesn’t claim to be. But his food doesn’t suck! I just don’t like the show, that’s not really my kind of food, but I respect him. I mean, he’s a real chef. He probably deserves his success. When I see him on TV, it doesn’t drive me crazy, like, how did that rat bastard get his success?

Your job takes you away from the kitchen so much. Do you ever miss it?

The fact is, it’s a young person’s game. From around age 37, 38, your abilities as a line cook, as someone who stands behind the stove, really start to decline. It’s not just the physical demands, which are quite enormous. It’s just the ability to keep up in your head. You’re like an air-traffic controller. After a certain amount of time at that job, the synapses start to burn. So you hurt. You hurt a lot.

You’ve said many times that you consider yourself more a cook than a chef. If you were in the kitchen cooking at Les Halles right now, how would Tony Bourdain rate his own food?

It’s working-class French brasserie food. There are probably a few thousand brasseries in France that are as good. There are very few places in New York that are as authentic. What I respect about Les Halles is that they would rather serve a tougher, more authentic piece of steak for their steak frites than the same sirloin that everybody else is serving. How would I rate it? I wouldn’t give it a Michelin star, that’s for sure. You either get it or you don’t get it. Homesick Frenchmen get it; Francophiles totally get it. But I don’t recall ever doing a single original dish there … ever. I work within a very old-school tradition of country-esque, bistro-brasserie classics, which I love and appropriate to my abilities. I was never an innovator or artist.