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480 pages, Hardcover
First published April 20, 2021
All of us, when we travel, look at the places we go, the things we see, through different eyes. And how we see them is shaped by our previous lives, the books we've read, the films we've seen, the baggage we carry.
"So many of the good times traveling this world relate directly to finding a human face to associate with your destination, the food you eat, and the memories you'll keep with you forever. The best times are when it's impossible to be cynical about anything. When you find yourself letting go of the past, and your preconceptions, and feel yourself and your basic nature, the snarkiness and suspicion, the irony and doubt disappear, at least for a time. When, for a few moments or a few hours, you change."---ANTHONY BOURDAIN
"Uruguay is delightful because it is not pretentious. No palace or pyramids or naval museums there. What it offers is a lot of space, a beautiful coastline and an unstressed lifestyle. Good food and drink are abundant and affordable. And people there seem to take pleasure in the small enjoyments of life, including the unique habit of carrying around and constantly sipping from a decorative thermos of mate. It's sort of 'teatime all day.' I'm hoping to make it back some day, to meet up with some of the people I met while filming the 2008 show, and raise a glass to Tony."
It was never my intention to be a reporter, a critic, an advocate. It was also never my intention to provide audiences with “everything� they needed to know about a place—or even a balanced or comprehensive overview. I am a storyteller. I go places, I come back. I tell you how the places made me feel. Through the use of powerful tools like great photography, skillful editing, sound mixing, color correction, music (which is often composed specifically for the purpose) and brilliant producers, I can—in the very best cases—make you feel a little bit like I did at the time. At least I hope so. It’s a manipulative process. It’s also a deeply satisfying one.
ANTHONY BOURDAIN, 2012
The camera operators planned their angles and shots for the next day, while Tom and I made small talk, into which he slipped, oh-so-casually, “I heard you guys do bone luges here.� I had no idea what that was, so he clarified: After scraping and sopping up the last of the glistening marrow out of halved and roasted veal bones, you pick something like sherry or bourbon, and hold the narrow end of the bone to your mouth, as you would with a beer funnel, while a game pal pours the shot down through the wider end, and into your mouth.
I was skeptical, very skeptical. I feared appearing on a show I loved as, essentially, a shooter girl—a fear that turned out to be entirely warranted. I also worried that if we did this whole bone luge thing on the show, we’d be doing it for guests, forever and ever, in an Edge of Tomorrow–style loop. I wasn’t wrong about that, either. So I expressed a fair and reasonable amount of doubt. We’d never served anyone a bone luge before, I said. It wasn’t, like, our thing. At all. But Tom was adamant, and so, on shoot day, I played along, if a bit unhappily, pouring bourbon down a still-warm marrow bone into Anthony Bourdain’s mouth. I was incredibly uncomfortable, which is very rare for me. But I did it.
I watched the episode once, when it originally aired in 2012, and only recently watched it again. I was happy to be reminded that the only thing I said on camera was, “I feel like a shooter girl, and it’s actually just a little humiliating.� With the perspective of time, though, I have to agree with Tom’s instinct to insert this bit of bone luge weirdness. It crystalized the segment, was such a huge hit, and, to be completely honest, we made a lot of money off supplemental bone luges. Tony never knew that it was a manufactured bit, and, frankly, it became such a part of Hoof lore that it doesn’t matter. Time really is a flat circle.
Helsinki, Finland. What I knew about the place wasn’t, shall we say, encouraging. I knew the Finns were tough people, tough enough to fight off Nazis and Russians. Tough enough to handle the cold, harsh climate, the long, depressing winters, the short, binge-drinking summers. I knew it was a place not long on easy smiles, or even eye contact, for that matter.
In 1975, the newly independent Mozambique looked forward to a brighter future. But this was not to be. Yet rather than giving up after enduring a sixteen-year civil war—one of Africa’s most brutal and senseless—the country picked itself up and began the enormous, daunting task of rebuilding, well, everything, from the ground up.
There are very few places left in this world like Mozambique. The climate is nice. The people are really nice and the food is extraordinary.
Yet today, Mozambique is barely a pit stop on the tourist trail. It was with all this in mind that I arrived on my first visit to this East African country of twenty-three million people.
Mozambique, it should be pointed out, is a darling of the World Bank. It’s seen as an African success story, and the fact is, things are good, very good, here, compared with how things have been in the past. Five hundred years of truly appalling colonialism, eighteen years of enthusiastic but inept Communism, and a brutal and senseless sixteen-year civil war ending less than twenty years ago left Mozambique with a devastated social fabric, a shattered economy, and only the memory of an infrastructure.
Shockingly, people here, throughout the country, after being relentlessly screwed by history, are just as relentlessly nice.
If I lived across the street from this place, I’d quit my job and just hang out here all day, until all the money was gone. Quimet & Quimet is a four-generations-old tapas bar in the El Poble-Sec neighborhood of Barcelona, which relies heavily on that Catalonian tapas bar staple of canned food.
There’s an extensive wine selection, along with cocktails and beer, but the real draw are the montaditos, or canape-sized open-faced sandwiches populated with the likes of cipriones (stuffed baby squid), anchovies, mussels, tuna belly, sea urchin, Spanish and French cheeses, pickled vegetables and more, all prepared to order behind the bar—there is no kitchen on site, and it’s a tight space, with room for only about 20 guests at a time.
QUIMET & QUIMET: Carrer del Poeta Cabanyes, 25, 08004 Barcelona, Tel +34 93 442 31 42, (tapas 2�18 euros/US$2.25�$20)