Some Thoughts on Anthony Bourdain

June 26, 2020 / The Black Hat Baker / 4 Comments

Anthony Bourdain wasn’t my culinary hero. The closest I have to culinary heroes are Masaharu Morimoto (for my memories of him as an Iron Chef), Albert Adria for raw artisanship, and Jacques Pepin for his ability to teach.

Anthony Bourdain was a literary hero for me, and a role model for how he approached food and life. He is still an inspiration for me as a storyteller because of his ability to remove himself from the center of it. He could write himself almost as a narrator, bearing witness to the food, the people, and the stories of their lives that THEY had to tell.

That was his greatest gift to me, I think. Not just inspiration to BECOME a cook (he certainly provided that as well), but an object lesson in how to connect with others, and help them tell their stories.

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The Afterlife of Restuarants

June 13, 2020June 13, 2020 / The Black Hat Baker / Leave a comment

I hadn’t seen the windows of the bar papered up since before they opened. The vinyl logos and graphics had been up back then, but little else indicating that The Nerd Out would be a bar and not a comic book or collectibles shop. Standing outside now, the giant neon logo had since been joined by menus, flyers for events, comic-book inspired graphics for the typical restaurant notices (“Kids welcome everywhere but the bar,” “we welcome everyone,” etc.) and a host of stickers on the door. Delivery services, local clubs, reviewers that wrote about them… and one with a black top hat on it.

I gently knocked on the door. The owner, Mitch, greeted me and ushered me into the Nerd Out for the last time.

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86 the Normal

June 6, 2020 / The Black Hat Baker / Leave a comment

Good evening, friends and neighbors.

The weather this weekend could have been better- cloudy, muggy, windy, rainy. No good for going out and doing much, which made it picture perfect for my days off.

See, lately, I’ve been on a big kick of not trying to do something every fucking minute. With the parade of nightmares, hatred, anger, righteous rage, and natural disasters happening outside my little corner- as often as I poke my head out to try and do some good, I want to spend some time remembering what still IS good. The “eternal verities” of a culinary life.

Everyone wants to “return to normal”- the pandemic to go away, hurricane season to pass, and the protesters to shut up and go home (after November 2016, I’ve learned that the people screaming and begging for “peace” tend to actually mean “peace and quiet.”)
Here’s the problem, though- that “normal” wasn’t working as well as you think it was. It won’t come back. It can’t, and if we’re being honest, it probably shouldn’t.

The end of the day at Saint Honore in Portland Oregon

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When It Rains

May 30, 2020May 30, 2020 / The Black Hat Baker / Leave a comment

Even in my basement apartment, I can still hear the rain and thunder if I try.

The sound of a storm has been soothing to me since college. On one of my four-hour drives between Southern New Jersey and Hartford Connecticut, I once got caught in a thunder storm somewhere in New York State. The rain came down in sheets, my wipers couldn’t keep up, and it was already dark.

I decided that arriving late was better than never arriving, so I pulled off into a rest area. I set an alarm for an hour, grabbed my spare blanket from the back, and took a nap while I waited for the rain to stop. To this day, that is the single most restful sleep I’ve ever had in my life.

It’s raining now, and there’s a storm outside. It’s not relaxing, though- it sounds more like a Seal being opened, and tiptoeing toward Armageddon.

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The Silence Between Sips

May 22, 2020May 23, 2020 / The Black Hat Baker / Leave a comment

Outside on the street, a car alarm is blaring. It’s not exactly a suburban neighborhood, but quiet enough that a random car alarm is more than background noise to a spring night.

I’m in the rocking chair I’ve adopted as mine- having trash-picked, thoroughly sprayed, cleaned, and draped it with an afghan. I’m sipping some rye whiskey while my wife alternates between her keyboard and piano, writing assignments for students. There’s some random “quiet time” music from Spotify playing, but it’s getting a little too happy and janky. I’m trying to write.

I need quiet, but with a little noise mixed in- like even the best whiskey needs a little drop of water to open up everything it has to offer.