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ANDY KROPA/ASSOCIATED PRESS PHOTO
Sisig
Anthony Bourdain in 2016.
Pork noodle bowl
Buoy Beer serves up a tribute to Bourdain
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THE MOUTH OF THE COLUMBIA
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T
he brutal, romantic, blood-
soaked benedictions of
Anthony Bourdain touched
millions. Seemingly on top of the
world, Bourdain’s suicide left fans
reeling, confused and heartbroken.
Among the mourners: head chef
at Buoy Beer, Erick Jenkins, who
first related viscerally to Bour-
dain’s seminal “Kitchen Confiden-
tial,” wherein Bourdain laid bare
the raw, unflinching underbelly of
kitchen work.
Bourdain “identified with the
grunts,” wrote New York Times
restaurant critic Pete Wells,
“portraying himself as a slinger of
cheap steaks and French fries. The
grunts, in turn, identified with him,
not because of his contributions as
a chef — who can name an Antho-
ny Bourdain dish? — but because
he told the world what the work
was really like.”
Jenkins, then, is one of those
grunts — the unsung whose work
Bourdain ennobled.
As a tribute — and perhaps, too,
as an outlet for his grief — Jenkins
designed a handful of specials.
Over the last week in June he
would cook and share some of
Bourdain’s favorite dishes.
By donating the proceeds
from the specials to Seaside High
School’s Culinary Arts Program,
Jenkins told the Daily Astorian he
hoped to “make something good
come out of something so tragic.”
The handful of dishes Jenkins
proffered were emblematic of
Bourdain’s tattered passport, very
much in harmony with his glo-
betrotting cultural appetite. But
even after being afforded money
and access, Bourdain’s compass
remained glued to his North Star:
the dignity of the working-class,
street-level culture.
As Wells wrote in a comprehen-
sive remembrance, “once (Bour-
dain) left kitchens behind for a
career in travel television, he didn’t
lead his camera crews on a tour of
the world’s most luxurious resorts.
He went to Detroit and the Bronx,
Libya and Beirut.”
And of those cuisines Jenkins
chose to highlight, few are regu-
larly available on the North Coast.
That made them doubly special.
Real treats. Two of them — sisig
and tonkatsu — I would be trying
for the first time.
Sisig comes from the Philip-
pines. It’s dead simple: just rice,
garlic, egg and pork — and incred-
ibly satisfying.
Sisig began as a vehicle for
using parts of the pig — the
freaky parts Bourdain so relished,
including the face, ears, snout and
cheeks — that would otherwise
be discarded. Jenkins’ version was
punched up, made more broadly
palatable with luscious pork belly.
(Many of the specials revolved
around pork, which Bourdain
called his “favorite vegetable.”)
An evangelist for many things
(from food to art to politics, philos-
ophy, jiu jitsu and so on), Bourdain
was characteristically bullish on
the Filipino dish.
“I think sisig is perfectly posi-
tioned to win the hearts and minds
of the world as a whole,” Bour-
dain said, adding that it’s “casual,
accessible,” and “exactly what you
need after a few beers.”
Consider me a convert. I could
eat sisig a few times a week, espe-
cially after surfing.
The tonkatsu was comfy, too
— a breaded and fried pork cutlet
that, for pig, is relatively lean. But
it’s the wicked crunch that makes
it. Tonkatsu really snaps.
Then there were Steak Frites (of
French provenance) and Cacio e
Pepe (Italian).
Although breakfast was his
comfort zone, when Bourdain was
a chef, steak frites was the kind of
thing he prepared regularly. His
advice on cooking a good steak is
simple: “Don’t f---ing touch it,”
Bourdain barked. Rather, remove
the meat from the grill and let it
sit, unmolested, for five-to-seven
minutes. Resist the urge to cut or
poke it.
“What’s going on inside is,
(the steak) is continuing to cook,”
Bourdain explained in a tutorial.
“But even more importantly, the
juices are distributing themselves
in a truly wonderful alignment.”
“All the difference in the world
between a good steak and a totally
messed up steak is going on in that
period of time where you’re just
doing nothing. Nothing.”
Then there was the Cacio e
Pepe, which in Italian means
“cheese and pepper.” And it’s
really that basic: noodles, cheeses,
black pepper and olive oil.
Cacio e Pepe, Bourdain said,
“could be the greatest thing in the
history of the world.” On location
in Rome, Bourdain refused to
name the restaurant that made his
favorite, hoping to save it from
being overrun by tourists. (Fans of
the show eventually unmasked it,
however.)
The parade of pork specials
resumed with a noodle bowl that
included crispy, oily skin and more
supple cubes. I couldn’t help but
think it was a nod to Bourdain’s
meal in Hanoi with then-president
Barack Obama. Once again, rather
than fancy digs, the iconoclast TV
host brought the POTUS to a bare-
bones, hole-in-the-wall noodle shop.
Bourdain picked up the $6 tab.
Indeed, like everything Bour-
dain did, the gesture began with
food but encompassed so much
more.
“If I’m an advocate for any-
thing, it’s to move,” Bourdain
said. “As far as you can, as much
as you can. Across the ocean, or
simply across the river. The extent
to which you can walk in someone
else’s shoes or at least eat their
food, it’s a plus for everybody.”
In sharing Bourdain’s favorites,
chef Jenkins showed a facility
with these polyglot flavors. Here’s
hoping he continues to explore, to
move.
The same goes for the rest of us.
In food is everything.
So, Anthony, a pint — or six —
of Buoy’s Czech Pils to you. May
your inspirations echo on. CW