I have a wee bit of a crush on Anthony Bourdain. I enjoy his dry wit as well as his sincere love of food. I like his rustic French recipes and I even like the over-the-top, brain and bug eating No Reservations show that he hosts.
Time published Ten Questions for him a few years ago, and I still like to swoon over his responses, much like SB's teenage sister might swoon over her poster sized magazine inserts of that guy from the Twilight Vampires book series.
That being said, I never thought that I would actually have the opportunity to test if there was ever a situation where my beloved Bourdain would become overexposed. Then Melanie Dunea came out with My Last Supper, a wonderful collection of portraits, interview, and recipes from 50 great chefs, detailing what their last meals would be. Now I know what Bourdain looks like dressed in a bone, and that he really enjoys marrow (actually, I think I already knew that).
But now, this is from Chewing the Fat. I am okay with sex. I am okay with food. I am okay if they mix sex and food. I am even okay after listening to Bourdain talk about sex and food. I am not okay that he had to do it along with hirsute, croc- wearing Mario Batalli. Now every time I think of Bourdain in a less than gastronomic way I will be seared with the image of Batalli smirking alongside.
Time published Ten Questions for him a few years ago, and I still like to swoon over his responses, much like SB's teenage sister might swoon over her poster sized magazine inserts of that guy from the Twilight Vampires book series.
That being said, I never thought that I would actually have the opportunity to test if there was ever a situation where my beloved Bourdain would become overexposed. Then Melanie Dunea came out with My Last Supper, a wonderful collection of portraits, interview, and recipes from 50 great chefs, detailing what their last meals would be. Now I know what Bourdain looks like dressed in a bone, and that he really enjoys marrow (actually, I think I already knew that).
But now, this is from Chewing the Fat. I am okay with sex. I am okay with food. I am okay if they mix sex and food. I am even okay after listening to Bourdain talk about sex and food. I am not okay that he had to do it along with hirsute, croc- wearing Mario Batalli. Now every time I think of Bourdain in a less than gastronomic way I will be seared with the image of Batalli smirking alongside.
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