Latest news with #Bourdain
Metro
18-05-2025
- Metro
Everything I ate during a weekend pintxos hopping in San Sebastián
San Sebastián is the crown jewel of the Basque region that runs along Spain's dazzling northern coast. It's a beach town turned Michelin hotspot with world-class cuisine — seriously, wear loose trousers. The city, known as Donostia in Basque, lies on the Bay of Biscay, its Old Town flanked by two sandy beaches, where you'll find streets filled with photogenic bars serving up mouthwatering local tapas and cider. San Sebastián started life as a fishing village in 1180, and enjoyed a revival as a seasonal holiday spot in the 19th-century, when Queen Isabel II chose it as her summer residence. This is a place rich in history and scenery, with sweeping views of La Concha beach best enjoyed from high atop Monte Igueldo. Its winding streets come alive each September for the San Sebastián International Film Festival, but its star quality is, undisputedly, the food. Fuel your wanderlust with our curated newsletter of travel deals, guides and inspiration. Sign up here. With the second-most Michelin stars per capita and an enviable claim to the title of most bars per person, this is a destination for people who eat differently. The Basques even have a name for it: pintxo , aka hopping from bar to bar and sampling bite-size bits of culinary art. Fresh from a flying visit to the place known as Europe's most beautiful bay, here's everywhere I ate, and alternative things to do, in fabulous San Sebastián. San Sebastián's status as a contemporary food stop can be traced to the late Anthony Bourdain, who visited the city three times for his shows A Cook's Tour, No Reservations, and Parts Unknown. He spoke of the deep connection between cuisine and community, emphasising that meals are less about food, more about bringing people together. Bourdain made several repeat visits to restaurants across the city, something he rarely did. All of that said, ordering at a pintxos bar is not for the meek. Not only will you struggle to find an English menu at more old-school spots, you'll need to claim your space at the counter — make yourself known when you want to order, just as Bourdain would have done. Etiquette is everything, so move along swiftly once you've hoovered down your grub. Otherwise, you're at risk of attracting a brusque 'vamos!' from over your shoulder. The bars are set up so you order a pintxos (pronounced 'peen-chos') or two alongside a drink, at just a few euros each. They're essentially a small snack, typically served on a piece of bread and skewered with a toothpick. From anchovies and olives to jamon and seafood, the variety is astounding. Each bar is generally known for one particular pintxos, be it the fois gras or urchin cream at Bar Sport, grilled mushrooms with egg yolk from Ganbara, or anchovies at Bar Txepetxa. More popular spots will be crowded with tourists and locals alike; be prepared for a lot of shouting and pointing. It's almost like a sport, and the best thing to do is lean in and resign yourself to the chaos. While pintxos is designed to be eaten quickly, some bars have seating and in the case of La Cuchara De San Telmo, it's worth planning ahead to nab one of its four tables for the evening session. Having seen a lot of recommendations for this place on TikTok and beyond, we knew it would be a fight for the bar. Arriving 20 minutes before doors opened for dinner, we scored ourselves a spot outside, where we could spend a little longer enjoying glasses of red at €2.80 (£2.30) a pop and trying its specialties without getting an elbow in the ribs from other diners. Runaway winners were the suckling pig (€19, £16.10), expertly seasoned steak (€17, £14.40), salty, oiled peppers (€9, £7.60) and oreja de cerdo aka pig's ear (€14, £11.80). Don't knock it, it's delicious and looks more like a folded omelette than animal anatomy. While most of the famous pintxos spots are confined to the walls of the Old Town, a short walk opens up another realm of amazing eats. To the east of the Old Town is the Gros neighbourhood, where you'll find local-approved spots such as the unpretentious Ricardo Taberna. Here you'll be joined by old, suntanned men yelling at TV screens and punters enjoying a drink outside. Two ciders, two croquettes and a slice of the most delicious cod tortilla set me back €11.30 (£9.50). A street away is Casa Galicia, where a plate of paprika-seasoned Octopus will relieve you of only €4 (£3.30). Get two. The region is known for its cider (or cidre ), and a 10-minute taxi from San Sebastián's centre will take you to Astigarraga, the home of the drink. Book a long lunch at one of these cider houses before you visit and you're guaranteed an incredible afternoon. We took a table at Astarbe Sagardotegia, a cider house that's been in operation since 1563, with the 15th-generation producing the latest bottles while the kitchen turns out velvety T-bone steaks and cod omelettes. Once you take your seat, you're handed a glass and, without invitation, you can make your way to a small room with several giant barrels filled with various ciders. There you'll be met by a trained txotxero (or cider master), who uses a key to open one of the barrels as a stream of golden liquid arcs out, ready to be caught by your outstretched glass. Don't be alarmed if you get more on the ground than in your glass on the first attempt. San Sebastián may be known for pintxos, but that doesn't mean you should sleep on its desserts. The creamed buns of Otaegui patisserie will set you back €2.25 (£1.90), so it's financially prudentto indulge. We walked along munching slabs of its hazelnut-laden milk and dark chocolate, snapped into sizes of your choosing and paid by the weight. Basque cheesecake is a speciality of the region, and La Vina's claim to fame is that it was the first to make it. Despite its newfound popularity on TikTok, it's well worth a visit, but there is no need to wait longer than 20 minutes. We went at 9pm when it was arguably at peak service, and were hastily ushered in to find any available space and force our way to the bar. Politely, of course. At a time when few things live up to expectation, a slice of this dessert truly is worth the hype. Each forkful delivers a masterpiece of creamy, soft wonder. It was so good it felt wrong to wolf it down in the hotel room, and I wanted to return several times over my few days in the city. One set me back €6.50 (£5.50). Fed, watered and bursting at the seams, a short funicular ride will bring you to Monte Igueldo, where you're rewarded with breathtaking views of the region. More Trending There's a hotel and a restaurant should you want a wine, but the fun is the small amusement fair which runs on the mountain. From a slightly questionable Casa Del Terror to the Mysterious River ride along a narrow waterway, there's plenty to entertain kids and big kids alike. While the Old Town is brimming with cultural history, the new town boasts a shopping district that will challenge you not to burn serious cash. From high street stores like Zara and Mango, to Sephora and a range of Spanish designers including Bimba Y Lola, there's something to suit every taste after a long day of eating. Getting to San Sebastián There are no direct flights from the UK to San Sebastián, but you can fly to nearby airports like Bilbao, then take a bus or train. From Bilbao, the bus is around 1.5 hours and will set you back anywhere from £7 to £17, depending on the operator. Vueling flies direct from London Gatwick to Bilbao with flights starting from £43. Where to stay Best value: Okako, located in Gros, is stylish in its simplicity and only a 15-minute walk from the Old Town and only 10 from Zurriola beach. Perfect for those who 'don't spend any time in the hotel room anyway' but still appreciate the touches of a coffee machine and a fruit bowl with muffins, single rooms start at €99 (£83.90) a night. Best splurge: If you want to splash out, Hotel Maria Cristina, located in between the old and new towns, was designed in 1912 by the same architect behind the Ritz in Paris. Now owned by the Marriott chain, expect total 5-star luxury. Of course, that comes at a cost, with lower rate rooms in June available for £641 per night. MORE: What's Cooking? I worked in cabin crew for 12 years — avoid these five foods on planes MORE: 'Lively' European city named world's most walkable and flights are just £66 MORE: Spain risks major fine from Eurovision Song Contest by persisting with political message
Scroll.in
17-05-2025
- Entertainment
- Scroll.in
‘Kitchen Confidential' at 25: Anthony Bourdain revealed high-end chefs as rock-star pirates
Kitchen Confidential: Adventures in the Culinary Underbelly was released 25 years ago into a culinary world vastly different to today's. With his signature semi-gonzo style, all sarcasm, wit and profanity, Anthony Bourdain lifted the pot lid on the world of the professional restaurant kitchen. That world, if we were to believe Bourdain, was full of ne'er-do-well line cooks, shady produce purveyors, drug-fuelled hijinks and ego. Lots of ego. It was also full of people who loved food, who recognised, as Bourdain put it, that 'food had power'. Smash-hit show The Bear is set in a kitchen universe resembling this very world. Bourdain's book is part memoir, part journalistic tell-all. Trainspotting author Irvine Welsh has written the introduction to the anniversary edition. Food writer AA Gill once called the book 'Elizabeth David written by Quentin Tarantino'. In its pages, Bourdain unfolds the story of a contrary young man who enters the culinary world because food made him feel something. A kitchen fever dream By the time he published Kitchen Confidential, Bourdain was contentedly installed as executive chef of the Manhattan branch of Brasserie Les Halles, the culmination of years of experience in the professional kitchen. The catalyst for his love of food, we're told, was an oyster, shucked fresh from the bed by a French oyster-fisher, sampled in defiance, his horrified family looking on. In his usual economically descriptive style, Bourdain tells us that 'it tasted of seawater … of brine and flesh … and somehow … of the future'. He recounts his journey from pretentious teenager, smoking pilfered cigarettes and failing out of Vassar College, to arrogant kitchen hand thrust into learning classic techniques at the Culinary Institute of America, and finally to his substance-addled climb up the professional ladder. In between this personal narrative, Bourdain offers his readers insights and opinions: why you shouldn't order fish on a Monday, the set-up of a diligent line cook's mise-en-place (the cook's prepared ingredients and essential tools), the best knife to buy if you wanted to try this at home. Bourdain wasn't the first culinary 'bad boy' to write their memoir. Marco Pierre White's White Heat, published a decade prior, portrayed White as a chain-smoking culinary savant. However, Bourdain's book went further and deeper, and his innate storytelling skill made Kitchen Confidential stand out. Reading it, it's easy to imagine the bone-deep exhaustion, feel the exhilarating rush of service, hear the patois of the kitchen. Kitchen Confidential made the work of a professional kitchen seem like a fever dream. To Bourdain, chefs were anti-authoritarians. Rockstars. Pirates. Being a chef was cool. Of course, that patina of cool hid systemic problems: drug addictions, misogyny, racism, stress and exploitation. Dark restaurant underbelly Kitchen Confidential was certainly a response to the emergent trend of food as entertainment at the time. The Food Network started programming in 1993 and turned chefs, previously known only in the depths of the culinary world, into superstars on television sets across the world. Of course, there had been cooking shows around for a long time: Julia Child's The French Chef was first broadcast in 1963. But those programs were for housewives, lacking the commercial glamour with which the Food Network gilded their stable of chefs, including American chefs and restaurateurs Emeril Lagasse and Bobby Flay. Bourdain was hypercritical of this 'credulous' approach to food, an attitude which suffuses Kitchen Confidential. Rather than embracing what he saw as the sterility of those television chefs, he revelled in the 'dark recesses of the restaurant underbelly'. He wanted us to, as well. Bourdain set out to shock the establishment. He succeeded. Kitchen Confidential is also a reflection of the state of masculinity at the turn of the 21st century. When Bourdain describes the restaurant kitchen, it is hyper-masculine. He points out those rare women who could 'cut it' in the machismo-heavy atmosphere. He claimed he had worked 'with some really studly women line cooks'. What made them so good? They 'refused to behave any differently than her male co-workers'. In order to succeed, women had to behave like men. While Bourdain may have tempered these views in his later career, men are still the dominant gender in the professional kitchen. It is not friendly to women, as non-binary Australian chef Jess Ho pointed out in their recent kitchen memoir, which has been compared to Bourdain's. You can imagine a slew of young men would have been encouraged to try their hands at the culinary arts after reading Bourdain's macho, swashbuckling stories of life on the line. Passion, isolation, abuse Kitchen Confidential also sheds light on the overwhelming amount of mental health issues at play in the professional kitchen. He detailed his own ongoing struggles, as well as those of colleagues. He recounted the story of his friend, who fired a 'cocaine-stoked and deranged employee' who then went home and took his own life. Bourdain is chillingly cold-blooded about the story, stating 'the guy had to go', acknowledging the kitchen is a cut-throat ecosystem – only the fittest survive. The stress of the kitchen and toxic workplace culture contribute to chefs currently being more likely than the general population to die by suicide, so it seems these issues have not been addressed even 25 years later. While Bourdain may have been one-dimensionally critical of those who couldn't cut it, Kitchen Confidential also provided searing commentary about equality. He illuminated the ironic divide between the haves (those enjoying high-class meals) and the have-nots (those cooking them). He was particularly keen on showing the diligence of immigrant staff, often illegal, often 'downtrodden' and 'underpaid' by unscrupulous restaurant owners who exploited their work ethic. Bourdain felt these cooks, who 'come up through the ranks', were 'more valuable […] than some bed-wetting white boy whose mom brought him up thinking the world owed him a living'. It's clear Bourdain was critiquing himself as well. Twenty-five years ago, Bourdain's work was revolutionary. Now, we see reflections of the kitchen culture exposed in Bourdain's Kitchen Confidential everywhere. A forum on Reddit for food service professionals is titled r/KitchenConfidential. Television shows such as reality show Hell's Kitchen, hosted by Gordon Ramsay, and recent smash-hit drama The Bear, reinforce that in the kitchen, passion is still the tool that gets you through the inevitable isolation, abuse and suffering. Food for everyday people Kitchen Confidential became a bestseller, arriving as popular interest in food and the restaurant industry began to take off. It launched Bourdain's further career. Despite his disdain for sanitised food television, Bourdain himself went on to become a television host. His first series, A Cook's Tour, was accompanied by a book of the same title and appeared on the same Food Network he disparaged in Kitchen Confidential. With his shows filmed in far-off places, Bourdain could have easily become a 'food adventurer', making a spectacle of and exoticising ethnic cuisines. He wasn't perfect, but his genuine enthusiasm and curiosity connected his audience not only to the food he ate on screen, but also with the social and cultural context of the people who made that food. It fostered in many, including myself, a similar curiosity about food: about why we eat what we do, with whom and how. Bourdain died by suicide in 2018 in France, while filming Parts Unknown, his final and most successful series: it had 12 seasons. There was an immediate outpouring of grief, with mourners adding to a memorial at the then-closed Brasserie Les Halles in Manhattan. Bourdain could talk and write about food for everyday people, making them think about where our food comes from, who is cooking for us, and the connections that food forms between us all. In light of his death, his final lines from Kitchen Confidential strike tragically differently 25 years on. He reflected: I'll be right here. Until they drag me off the line. I'm not going anywhere. I hope. It's been an adventure. We took some casualties over the years. Things got broken. Things got lost. But I wouldn't have missed it for the world. Lauren Samuelsson, Associate Lecturer in History, University of Wollongong. This article first appeared on The Conversation.
Yahoo
13-05-2025
- Entertainment
- Yahoo
The Cheesesteak Anthony Bourdain Said Should Be A 'National Landmark' Isn't From Philly
Philadelphia is often considered home to the greatest cheesesteaks in the world, and considering the sandwich was first created in the city in the 1930s, that isn't a shocking distinction (though the original cheesesteak was missing a crucial ingredient). Some, however, such as illustrious celebrity chef Anthony Bourdain, disagree with this take. Instead, Bourdain believed that Donkey's Place, a restaurant across the Delaware River in Camden, New Jersey, was just as good as (or better than) any cheesesteak in the neighboring state. Bourdain revealed his love for Donkey's cheesesteaks in Season 5, Episode 6 of "Parts Unknown," which exclusively covered the cuisine found across New Jersey. In it, Bourdain questioned whether or not Philadelphia was truly the "center of the cheesesteak universe," or if the 80+ year-old restaurant in Southern New Jersey arguably makes a better version of the dish. "Behold the Jersey cheesesteak," Bourdain narrated, "It's round, it's got steak, spices, browned onions, real American cheese, such as it is, and a poppy seed roll. And it is sublime." Read more: Once-Popular Pizza Styles That Are Slowly Disappearing Philly cheesesteak diehards — folks that know the proper way to order a cheesesteak — likely think the idea of New Jersey doing the dish better is insane (or, as Bourdain put it, treasonous). However, the changes implemented by these Jersey cheesesteak-makers have proven to be quite appetizing for many sandwich lovers in New Jersey, Philadelphia, and beyond. For Bourdain, the poppy seed kaiser roll used at Donkey's gave the Jersey cheesesteak a more satisfying taste and texture than the hoagie roll or baguette typically used in Philly. Otherwise, some may prefer the sliced American cheese in Jersey cheesesteaks over the Cheez Whiz and provolone cheese that the Philly version is known for. Despite cheesesteaks being one of those foods that cause an argument whenever they're mentioned, after his experience at Donkey's Place, Bourdain wasn't afraid to draw a line in the sand and admit his controversial preference. "This should be a national landmark right away. This sandwich is unbelievably good," Bourdain praised, "Jersey cheesesteaks, I'm not saying they're better than Philadelphia — yeah, I am, actually. This is great." For more food and drink goodness, join The Takeout's newsletter. Get taste tests, food & drink news, deals from your favorite chains, recipes, cooking tips, and more! Read the original article on The Takeout.
Glasgow Times
12-05-2025
- Entertainment
- Glasgow Times
I ate at Glasgow's University Cafe 10 years after TV fame
A kitsch callback to a simpler time, it's leading them indoors where stainless steel buckets filled with sweet ice cream lie in subzero temperatures beneath the counter. Kudos to them for finding the perfect antidote to the balmy Spring weather, but I'm here in search of a dish that will stretch the limits of my appetite far further than a scoop of stracciatella. 'I'm pretty sure god is against this,' late chef and beloved TV personality Anthony Bourdain said of his dinner eaten in this spot for a Scotland-focused episode of Parts Unknown, which first aired on May 10, 10 years ago. READ NEXT: Is Ho Lee Fook the best street food in Glasgow? READ NEXT: The inside story of Glickman's - Glasgow's oldest sweet shop (Image: Newsquest) He delivered this one of signature, razor-sharp one-liners while reaching for another chip, swimming in curry sauce and topped with a blanket of melted cheese so thick that you could almost feel the weight of it through your screen as it cooled and congealed. Of course, this was just a side order to his main event of deep-fried haggis (served here in 'tube form') and a portion of crispy battered haddock. A decade later, looking for a way to acknowledge the milestone, I've decided to risk a spike in cholesterol levels for the chance to experience the same meal which the Kitchen Confidential star ultimately hailed as 'one of life's great pleasures'. Outside of a star feature in Bourdain's celebrated CNN travel series, The University Café is an institution in its own right. Run by the Verrechia family, there's over 100 years' worth of history packed into these walls, and the interiors remain delightfully unchanged as one of the West End's busiest streets morphs and evolves around them. Pictured: Chips, cheese and curry sauce is just the beginning (Image: Newsquest) I sit towards the back of the space, where I'm caught off guard by leather seats which fold down just the same as those you'd find at a theatre. It's snug, but the perfect spot to survey the comings and goings of the café. Aside from swarms of students buzzing in and out with queries about today's ice cream flavours, there's only one other solo diner occupying the sit-in dining area. I eye his can of Irn Bru from across the room and wonder if he too has chosen the Bourdain Special, a repeat of the chef's Frankenstein order which has become a permanent fixture on their menu due to its popularity with fans. With my back to the wall shared with the kitchen, I can hear, but not see, my own single serving of the special being prepared. Crackle. Pop. Bubble. It all comes to a crescendo fuelled by blistering hot oil as each component of this gut-busting feast is plunged into a fryer. Having already dropped off the fizzy drink included in the Bourdain Special, the waitress almost catches me in the act of self-filming a video for our social channels when returning with the rest of the order. Pictured: The Bourdain Special at the University Cafe (Image: Newsquest) Thankfully, there's little time to agonise over whether the main man himself would have dubbed this blatant quest for content creation lame, because there's food here to be eaten. And a lot of it. The curry sauce goes first, poured at a height from a small white milk jug with a chip in its lip and falling in an uneven, gloopy stream. Foodie Room 101 though it may be to some, I find curry sauce to be the ultimate companion to any meal that feels just a little bit 'dirty'. There's a perverse pleasure in ordering this yellow-tinged condiment from a Chinese takeaway or chippy, knowing that that these sweet and spicy flavours don't quite belong but doing it anyway. I know this slathering of the good stuff will turn the batter of that freshly fried haddock into an instant mush, but I don't care, and continue to pour until the last drop. Of all of the items that complete Bourdain's god-offending order, I'll find that the haggis is the best. Whichever brand they use is of a high enough quality that there's decent texture even after being exposed to intense heat, and the richness of meat described in the TV segment as 'sinister sheep parts' shines through any greasiness. Take this from someone who compared six variations of our national dish, including one packed into a can, in honour of Burn's Night earlier this year. Is the haddock as good as the stuff they serve at say, the Fish Works in Largs, or the Anstruther Fish Bar? The short answer is no. But I'm not here for any kind of upmarket experience. It's salty, oily and the white flesh flakes just as well when released from a cocoon of heavy batter. A colleague later describes the meal as looking appetising in an 'after four pints' kind of way, and I understand his point. This is the type of food that can only be fully enjoyed when any notion of calorie counting or refined dining left at the door. Something that we should all surrender to now and again, whether sober or far from it. When I arise from the table, leaving the red leather seat to snap back it its original position behind me, I overhear a couple who have plonked themselves down with an impressive collection of backpacks asking the waiter about the Bourdain Special in unfamiliar accents, a reminder that his fans can be found all across the wide world he once travelled. 'It's funny, a lot of them seem to have sold today,' I'm told when approaching the counter to pay my bill. Before I have the chance to decide if I should reveal my journalistic motives for visiting, the long-serving member of the team offers up an anecdote from Bourdain's visit without any prompt. 'I had the place spotless,' she says, 'and then a child sat at the booth next to where they were filming and smeared their hands right across the glass.' I'm here to write about that very day, I tell her, in the hopes that she'll share more of what it was like to host a man whose work I found myself engrossed in as soon as I started to develop an interest in food and world cuisine. In all of the fun of the afternoon, her response is a sincere yet sobering reminder of the issues which plagued the chef when the cameras stopped rolling and would later develop into something much darker. He wasn't rude by any means, she stresses, but when she approached him to make conversation, the chef seemed somewhat disconnected and closed off. 'You can tell with some people, when something's not quite right.' (Image: Newsquest) Rewatching the Parts Unknown episode in the years following Bourdain's death in 2018 has a bittersweet effect. There's a sense of pride in the moment's when he highlights the city's true spirit rather than leaning into the stereotype of a gritty place plagued by violence and crime. But we now return to those soundbites, knowing that he will never walk its streets again. "A happy place from my past where once I frolicked young and carefree in the field of friolated arts. The University Cafe, where I learned at the foot of the masters the doa of hot fat and crispy batter." 10 years since we first tagged along with him for the ride, his name permanently printed on the menus at a place he returned to time and time again serves as a reminder of the seismic impact this troubled, yet brilliant chef and reluctant celebrity figure has left behind.
The Herald Scotland
10-05-2025
- Entertainment
- The Herald Scotland
I followed Anthony Bourdain's footsteps in Glasgow 10 years later
Kudos to them for finding the perfect antidote to the balmy Spring weather, but I'm here in search of a dish that will stretch the limits of my appetite far further than a scoop of stracciatella. 'I'm pretty sure god is against this,' late chef and beloved TV personality Anthony Bourdain said of his dinner eaten in this spot for a Scotland-focused episode of Parts Unknown, which first aired on May 10, 10 years ago. (Image: Newsquest) He delivered this one of signature, razor-sharp one-liners while reaching for another chip, swimming in curry sauce and topped with a blanket of melted cheese so thick that you could almost feel the weight of it through your screen as it cooled and congealed. Of course, this was just a side order to his main event of deep-fried haggis (served here in 'tube form') and a portion of crispy battered haddock. A decade later, looking for a way to acknowledge the milestone, I've decided to risk a spike in cholesterol levels for the chance to experience the same meal which the Kitchen Confidential star ultimately hailed as 'one of life's great pleasures'. Outside of a star feature in Bourdain's celebrated CNN travel series, The University Café is an institution in its own right. Run by the Verrechia family, there's over 100 years' worth of history packed into these walls, and the interiors remain delightfully unchanged as one of the West End's busiest streets morphs and evolves around them. Pictured: Chips, cheese and curry sauce is just the beginning (Image: Newsquest) I sit towards the back of the space, where I'm caught off guard by leather seats which fold down just the same as those you'd find at a theatre. It's snug, but the perfect spot to survey the comings and goings of the café. Aside from swarms of students buzzing in and out with queries about today's ice cream flavours, there's only one other solo diner occupying the sit-in dining area. I eye his can of Irn Bru from across the room and wonder if he too has chosen the Bourdain Special, a repeat of the chef's Frankenstein order which has become a permanent fixture on their menu due to its popularity with fans. With my back to the wall shared with the kitchen, I can hear, but not see, my own single serving of the special being prepared. Crackle. Pop. Bubble. It all comes to a crescendo fuelled by blistering hot oil as each component of this gut-busting feast is plunged into a fryer. Having already dropped off the can of Barrs Irn Bru included in the Bourdain Special, the waitress almost catches me in the act of self-filming a video for our social channels when returning with the rest of the finished order. Pictured: The Bourdain Special at the University Cafe (Image: Newsquest) Thankfully, there's little time to agonise over whether the main man himself would have dubbed this blatant quest for content creation lame, because there's food here to be eaten. And a lot of it. The curry sauce goes first, poured at a height from a small white milk jug with a chip in its lip and falling in an uneven, gloopy stream. Foodie Room 101 though it may be to some, I find curry sauce to be the ultimate companion to any meal that feels just a little bit 'dirty'. There's a perverse pleasure in ordering this yellow-tinged condiment from a Chinese takeaway or chippy, knowing that that these sweet and spicy flavours don't quite belong but doing it anyway. I know this slathering of the good stuff will turn the batter of that freshly fried haddock into an instant mush, but I don't care, and continue to pour until the last drop. Of all of the items that complete Bourdain's god-offending order, I'll find that the haggis is the best. Whichever brand they use is of a high enough quality that there's decent texture even after being exposed to intense heat, and the richness of meat described in the TV segment as 'sinister sheep parts' shines through any greasiness. Take this from someone who compared six variations of our national dish, including one packed into a can, in honour of Burn's Night earlier this year. Is the haddock as good as the stuff they serve at say, the Fish Works in Largs, or the Anstruther Fish Bar? The short answer is no. But I'm not here for any kind of upmarket experience. It's salty, oily and the white flesh flakes just as well when released from a cocoon of heavy batter. A colleague later describes the meal as looking appetising in an 'after four pints' kind of way, and I understand his point. This is the type of food that can only be fully enjoyed when any notion of calorie counting or refined dining left at the door. Something that we should all surrender to now and again, whether sober or far from it. When I arise from the table, leaving the red leather seat to snap back it its original position behind me, I overhear a couple who have plonked themselves down with an impressive collection of backpacks asking the waiter about the Bourdain Special in unfamiliar accents, a reminder that his fans can be found all across the wide world he once travelled. 'It's funny, a lot of them seem to have sold today,' I'm told when approaching the counter to pay my bill. Before I have the chance to decide if I should reveal my journalistic motives for visiting, the long-serving member of the team offers up an anecdote from Bourdain's visit without any prompt. 'I had the place spotless,' she says, 'and then a child sat at the booth next to where they were filming and smeared their hands right across the glass.' I'm here to write about that very day, I tell her, in the hopes that she'll share more of what it was like to host a man whose work I found myself engrossed in as soon as I started to develop an interest in food and world cuisine. In all of the fun of the afternoon, her response is a sincere yet sobering reminder of the issues which plagued the chef when the cameras stopped rolling and would later develop into something much darker. He wasn't rude by any means, she stresses, but when she approached him to make conversation, the chef seemed somewhat disconnected and closed off. 'You can tell with some people, when something's not quite right.' (Image: Newsquest) Rewatching the Parts Unknown episode in the years following Bourdain's death in 2018 has a bittersweet effect. There's a sense of pride in the moments when he highlights the city's true spirit rather than leaning into the stereotype of a gritty place plagued by violence and crime. But we now return to those soundbites, knowing that he will never walk its streets again. "A happy place from my past where once I frolicked young and carefree in the field of friolated arts. "The University Cafe, where I learned at the foot of the masters the doa of hot fat and crispy batter." 10 years since first tagged along with him for the ride, his name permanently printed on the menus at a place he returned to time and time again serves as a reminder of the seismic impact this troubled, yet brilliant chef and reluctant celebrity figure has left behind.
