Anthony Bourdain Wears Thin
God.
Anthony Bourdain. What's going on, dude? You've turned into that guy. You know, the guy in class who tries too hard to look punk. The reality show contestant who looks into the camera and declares, "I tell it like it is, and people have a problem with that." The guy at the party who prattles on about the glory that is bacon (in addition to your badassery of smoking and drug taking, of course.)
Let's take a look at your most recent weblog post, which delves into SF's spot-on (albeit unoriginal) stereotypes.
Let me come right out and say it. I love San Francisco. I am helpless and unwavering in my affection--in spite of every effort over the years to find fault, to dismiss, to sneer. And there's surely lots to sneer at, San Francisco and the Bay being pretty much the epicenter of so many of my most cherished aversions: political correctness, veganism, rich hippies, sanctimoniousness about food, food fetishism, animal rights terrorists, gastro-dogma, and loud locavores who actually get their produce flown in from Chino Farms in San Diego.But at this point, I bore even myself railing against the above. Hell, I'm not even bitter about San Francisco taking the lead in banning smoking anymore. They won that battle long ago. Game over.
Thanks. We can't tell you how much your approval means to us.
But then, right on time, you hit your favorite and all-too-easy target, Alice Waters.
Okay ... it does still drive me berserko watching a blissed out St. Alice, burning up a few cords of firewood (in Berkeley no less!) to cook two eggs for an unusually credulous Lesley Stahl.
Got it. Alice, who is Berkeley-based, is a stick-in-the-mud. A downright square bitch who won't shove ham-n-cheese Hot Pockets into her gullet. We know this; it's part of her charm.
But, see, you can't have it both ways, angel face. You can't shrug your shoulders at Waters and declare that you're in the "pleasure business," that you don't care how taste gets to your plate, so long as it gets there; then, at the same time, slam Sandra Lee as "evil" for her epicurean skills, or lack thereof. (Cocktail time, after all, is priority number-one in the pleasure business. And Lee, like any glorious train wreck, is the single most fascinating TV presence out there right now. For better or for worse, no one does what she does.)
So, which one can't you stand, Tony? Waters or Lee? Organic/sustainable righteousness or high-fructose fascism? Or, do you just loathe female cooks?
For a true punk rock food icon, check out Hubert Keller manning the decks at Sunday's SF Chefs event.
Oh, and Bourdain's SF episode of I Tell It Like It Is, or whatever it's called, air tonight.