Bourdain in Vietnam

“Fellow travellers, this is what you want,” Anthony Bourdain said at the outset of one of his most poignant, stirring episodes of Parts Unknown. “This is what you need. This is the path to true happiness and wisdom.” Good morning, Vietnam.

First of all, how good is this background music?

One of the first things— among many — that strikes one on first viewing Anthony Bourdain’s Parts Unknown episode Vietnam, the fifth episode of Parts Unknown’s breakout fourth season, is how sweet the sound be. None of this lazy, ratty, by-rote, AI-generated “music” that marks so many of today’s documentary programs — hello, Netfilx! — but rather a carefully crafted soundscape in the vein of so many of Bourdain’s Asia-based programs, which introduced music aficionados as well as foodies to the musical stylings of Lekha Rathnakumar, Wayan Udayana, Haitham Hamwi and Gokhan Kirdar. This ain’t  Nickelback.

It’s worth remembering that Parts Unknown’s fourth season, which aired from September through November in 2014, featured Shanghai, the Bronx (“Hip hop came from nowhere else; it could have come from nowhere but the Bronx”), Paraguay, Vietnam, Tanzania, and Iran back-to-back-to-back — no fewer than three of the four episodes Bourdain himself was most proud of throughout Parts Unknown’s entire run.

Vietnam marked Bourdain’s seventh foray into Vietnam for the TV cameras, beginning with A Cook’s Tour (three episodes, starting in 2002) and winding through No Reservations (three episodes, dating from August 2005 through March 2010) but his first to the former Vietnamese imperial capital of Huê, the country’s cultural, culinary and spiritual heart, and scene of some of the fiercest, most intractable fighting of the Vietnam War.

That’s worth noting, too, because Bourdain managed to bridge the quiet reflection and soft-spoken beauty of central Vietnam  in the first half and the harrowing yet strangely restorative second half that focuses on the pain and anguish of a jungle war replete with one of the heaviest bombing campaigns in the history of modern warfare, and how the entire region has managed to recover — and forgive — in the war’s aftermath.

That’s a hard line to walk, and yet it’s that very shift in tone that speaks to Bourdain’s remarkable ability to be all things to all people, without pandering to popular opinion or relying on cheap sentiment coupled with moral outrage. Vietnam is an astounding hour of television, and it’s easy to see how Bourdain won the hearts and minds of hardened, experienced war correspondents like Christiane Amanpour (Amanpour, lest we forget, was instrumental in reporting the Siege of Sarajevo, from Sarajevo itself during the mid-1990s,  during the carnage of the Bosnian War — reporting that played no small part in Western leaders’ decision to intervene and end the war, by force if necessary.)

Vietnam’s first half finds Bourdain navigating the flat grey, mist-shrouded streets of central Huê on his trusty scooter (“One of the greatest joys of life is riding a scooter through Vietnam”) before pulling off the street on a whim to stop at a street stall and share a bowl of com hén, (clam rice, a Huê classic) with Vietnamese-American writer and author Nguyên Qui Dúc.

From there, Bourdain wends his way through a bowl of bún bò Huê (a spicy beef noodle soup Bourdain dubs “the greatest soup in the world”), and he’s clearly in his element, at peace with the world.

And then. A tonal shift, dramatic and unforgettable. Bourdain pays his respects at the tunnels of Vin Moc in Quang Tri province, ground zero in the battle for Huê in the bloody, bitter aftermath of the 1969 Tet Offensive, where at one point some 3,000 Huê civilians and alleged collaborators were massacred by North Vietnamese fighters, their bodies buried in a mass grave outside the city. One local witness, who lived through the worst of the worst, recalls his experiences of being born and living the first nine years of his life in the tunnels during some of the most intense bombing of the war (“The earth moved, but the noise was not loud. In here, it would not collapse. This side vibrated strongly. These two sides only gently. All was vibrating like that, but did not collapse.”)

Bourdain is introspective — the quiet American. How could anyone with a pulse and some semblance of a heart not help be introspective, given Americans’ involvement in the war.

Bourdain is a man of the future, though, and not just the past — it was one of his many saving graces — and you can’t help but sense that Vietnam, the country and not just the episode, has come full circle by the time the hour comes to a close.

“My place of dreams,” Bourdain began. “My spirit house. The city of ghosts.

“Huê is a place I've never been before, but it's still Vietnam, with all the things, the smells, the sounds, the details I love so much.

“I've been all over Vietnam, a place I feel a special connection to. My first love is a place I remain besotted with, fascinated by. … Hit (me) with some hot clam broth, and you're on your way. I'm back. Back in Vietnam, s**t-eating grin for the duration. A giddy, silly, foolish man beyond caring. A cold local beer. Huda, my preferred brand, in every way. Clams with pork cracklings. How could that not be good?

“This is the way so many of the great meals of my life have been enjoyed. Sitting in the street, eating something out of a bowl that I'm not exactly sure what it is. Scooters going by. So delicious. … Where have you been all my life?”

“So we wish you have a good trip,” Bourdain is told. “A good fly. Will you come back after you return to New York?”

Bourdain: “I'll come back to Vietnam, always. Cheers, everybody, and thank you, all of you, for all your help.”

And then, in voiceover:

“This is who came out of the ground, out of the jungle, the darkness, when it was all over.

“And this is what they did.”

And how.

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Bourdain in Paraguay

Parts Unknown meets Finding Your Roots in an hour oft described as one of Bourdain’s more underrated outings, as he ventured down the jungle rivers of Paraguay to find out exactly what happened to his great-great-great granddaddy Jean Bourdain in the 1850s. Cue the Apocalypse Now music.

Please spare a thought, if you will, for Anthony Bourdain.

There he was in Paraguay, a land-locked country of sweaty, impenetrable jungle, murderous heat and humidity, mosquitos the size of wasps, virtually every tropical disease known to science, a long history of, in Bourdain’s words, “an unending line of dictators,” not to mention a long, colourful history (it is rumoured) of cannibalism. Talk about Kitchen Confidential and the need to keep certain practices, well, confidential.

Bourdain was searching for whatever happened to his long lost great-great-great grandfather, Jean Bourdain, hoping against hope that the missing link in his family lineage would turn out to an adventurer with a storied past worthy of the tao of Bourdain.

Then, midway through the Parts Unknown episode Paraguay, which aired 10 years ago this October, he learns that great-great-great grandad was a chapelier.

A hat maker.

“A hat maker?” Bourdain looks, if not downcast exactly, something close.

“I have to say that disappoints me. Like, a lot.

“The whole elusive wing of mysterious South American Bourdains were the Project Runway contestants of their day?”

The word disappointment doesn’t even begin to cover it.

It’s as if you had a Finding Your Roots episode devoted to your own family history, only to find out that you come from a long line of certified public accountants. Honest ones, mind, but seriously, how exciting can that be?

But wait, there’s more, Bourdain learns just moments later.

It turns out that at some point during Jean Bourdain’s seemingly somnolent, short life in 1850s Paraguay — yes, he died there — it turns out that he requisitioned a shipment of 200 boxes of fireworks.

Wait, what?

Fireworks?

There were not even more than 200 or 300 wealthy families who, living in Paraguay at the time, might,  sometimes on a birthday perhaps, pop off a firecracker or two. But 200 boxes worth? And how big are the boxes?

No, no, no, you’ve got this all wrong, the local private investigator Bourdain enlisted to help him in his search tells him. It turns out that feux d’artifice — the French word for fireworks — was Paraguayan code for something else.

“So are you suggesting something untoward?” Bourdain asks hopefully.

“Weapons.”

“Weapons?”

“Yes.”

“He was a merchant of death? Awesome. You know, my aunt always said he was a gunrunner.

“We figured she was full of s**t. I mean, she also said she was in the Resistance, you know, but everybody in France said that.”

Maybe great-great-great grandad wasn’t a boring guy after all.

The revelation is almost enough — almost — to make this 21st-century river expedition seem worthwhile. Bourdain always said Apocalypse Now was his favourite film. One of them, anyway.

There’s something about these journeys up jungle rivers in search of god-knows-what that appealed to him.

That, and the ancestral angle.

Bourdain: “Sometime in the mid-19th century, 1850s, Jean Bourdain emigrated to South America, first in Argentina but apparently came here. That's really almost all I know for sure.

“Did he die by the sword? Did he die of old age? Did he die of syphilis? I have no idea. I'd like to know. I would like to find a gravesite. That would be great.

“You know, my father died at 57. His father in, I think, in his 20s, I believe. I'll be 58 in June. I think I am the longest-living male Bourdain in possibly ever.”

“So you're lonely in the world?” his fixer asks him.

Bourdain: “I am lonely in the world, yes. If I could solve the mystery of the elusive Jean Bourdain, it would make me very happy.”

Here’s the thing.

In 104 episodes over 12 seasons, Paraguay is often cited as one of Bourdain’s most unfairly overlooked outings.

In a 2019 interview with The Takeout food website, Tom Vitale, Bourdain’s director-producer, father confessor and spiritual consigliere for some 16 years, cited Paraguay as one of his personal favourites of the Parts Unknown episodes he made with Bourdain. (Libya, Copenhagen and Iran were the others.)

As recently as five months ago, a Bourdainophile posted a subreddit on Reddit calling Paraguay Bourdain’s most underrated episode.

Some of the follow-up comments ranged from, “I really like it when he (went) to non-touristy Latin American countries,” to, “As someone who lived there (Paraguay), that is a favourite of mine as well. (He) did a pretty good job of communicating the feel of the place. Got a few things wrong … for instance, some of his conclusions about Paraguayan history are wrong.

“Early presidents that he calls unhinged dictators” — well, to be fair, Bourdain’s actual words were, “the most maniacal, megalomaniacal pisspot dictators …  — “are widely regarded as national heroes within the country. Though to an outsider, I could see how you would see them that way. They were a bit unhinged, and they were certainly dictators.”

Oookay…

“Foodwise (though), he did a great job. Nearly everything he ate was common and typically Paraguayan.

See? Tastes likes chicken.

Back to Jean Bourdain.

You could be forgiven for wondering at this point, why would a dashing dandy and would-be adventurer from small-town Bordeaux with a yearning for exploration and danger consider moving half a world away to a disease- and insect-ridden tropical jungle to find his destiny? Funny you should ask.

The mystery of what happened to great-great-great granddad in the jungles of Paraguay consumed Anthony Bourdain and his younger brother Chris for the best part of their adult lives. Bourdain might never have actually believed he would get there one day but, hey, CNN was paying the bills, and this annoying guy Vitale kept insisting it would make good TV, so why not?

Besides, the history of the Colony of Nueva Burdeos — its actual name, by the way, not the “Nouveau Bordeaux” bandied about in the show — is, well, real.

According to no less an authoritative source than encyclopedia.com,  the colony was an “abortive colonization experiment in the Paraguayan during the 1850s aimed to improve relations with Europe and increase agricultural production, but failed on both counts.

“The opening of Platine waterways after the fall of the Argentine dictator José Manuel de Rosas in 1852 enabled Paraguay to reach out to foreign nations for diplomatic and commercial contacts. The 1853– 1854 European tour of Francisco Solano López sealed several such agreements and opened the door to European immigration into Paraguay. French representatives, responding to López's overtures, agreed to permit the transport from Bordeaux of some four hundred settlers who, with the material aid of the Asunción government, would build an agricultural colony in the Gran Chaco. The French settlers began to arrive in May 1855 … but from the first, everything went wrong.”

Really? What could go wrong?

“A lot of people have ventured to Paraguay over the years in search of some sort of dream,” Bourdain later wrote in his Field Notes. “I’ve looked for (my) mysterious ancestor before — in Uruguay with my younger brother, Chris. We were disappointed when our trail ran cold. We were left with a cryptic reference to the news that Jean had died in Asunción, Paraguay, which begged the question: What the hell was he doing in Paraguay? And where is Paraguay anyway?”

Where indeed.

Is Paraguay one of Parts Unknown’s finest hours?

Mais oui. Certainly.

It’s funny, too. Often when least expected. As in the moment when Bourdain considers buying a shotgun while making his way up the jungle river.

“Let’s see … I am tempted by the offer of a cheap shotgun for sale. Me: Fear, hot sunny day, a shotgun, a producer. That’s not a good mix.”

Oh dear. Cue the producer. Tom, over to you.

CNN

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Bourdain in Shanghai

“What are our expectations? Which of the things we desire are within reach? If not now, when? And will there be some left for me?” Ten years ago, Anthony Bourdain asked existential questions of the rising economic power that is Shanghai in Parts Unknown’s 4th season opener.

When Anthony Bourdain raised the curtain on Parts Unknown’s fourth season of culinary globetrotting by holding his life’s lens to Shanghai, financial capital of China’s merging of the Old World and New in September 2014, 10 years ago, give or take, the die was cast. Regular CNN News viewers and Bourdain acolytes alike knew what to expect — or at least thought they did.

Hardly anyone would have expected that the season opener’s look at modern China would open, not with Bourdain’s by-now familiar voiceover, acerbic and laden with a sharp, cutting wit, but with a single, spoken musical note, a mezzo-soprano — nǚ gāoyīn — rising into an almost ethereal realm while Bourdain, wearing a coloured pocket square or foulard, made his way through the densely packed nighttime streets of what is now arguably the 21st century’s seat of economic power. Not New York, Bourdain’s hometown. Or London. Or Hong Kong. Shanghai. “This is not, you might have noticed, normal for me,” Bourdain would later admit in his field notes — not in the program itself — for CNN.

Right from the beginning, viewers would have noticed the change. This was going to be a different Bourdain. More reflective. Confident but gracious.
“What are our expectations? Which of the things we desire are within reach? If not now, when? And will there be some left for me?”

Comfortable in the company of outrageous wealth — everyone appreciates a dinner companion who can hold a conversation with style and wit, even those with enough money that they don’t have to care what anyone else thinks — and yet still close to his working-class roots. Here, today, more than five years after his sudden passing, newcomers to the Tao of Bourdain, of which I’m one, are singing his praises on Reddit, Instagram and the other present-day town halls of social media.

“There is a method to my madness,” Bourdain wrote — words that would not make it into the actual show. “These tiny notes of colour are our first venture into actual production design — a calculated effort to give the episode a specific look.”

Shanghai would not be TV. It was cinema. One can only imagine what the business suits inside CNN’s executive offices thought when they first saw Shanghai in its final cut. One doesn’t have to imagine what people in Shanghai, or what the increasingly inscrutable government seat in power in China thought, yesterday or today. By this time, everyone, anyone with a working TV and access to the Internet — which includes virtually all 26.32 million people (2019) of China’s most wired, most socially, economically and politically influential city — knew who Bourdain was.

Back to the episode itself.

Bourdain was a rock star by this point, but he understood, as well as anyone did or could have, that it is about the band, not the frontman.

“I have long been besotted with the works of Chinese director Wong Kar-wai and his frequent cinematographer Christopher Doyle,” Bourdain continued in his Field Notes. “Their films In the Mood for Love and Chungking Express are gorgeous meditations on longing and desire and missed connections. They are spectacularly shot — and a while back I noticed how tiny elements of colour in the foreground of the frames are often connected to similar colours in the background, giving scenes a lush, unified atmosphere that feels natural and undesigned.

“So we tried — as best and as cheaply as possible — to do that. You will notice scenes tied together by colours.

“Cameraman Mo Fallon and cameraman/editor Nick Bridgen did, I think, truly epic work on this one.”

The familiar Parts Unknown signatures are there. The food, for one. Starting with FuChun XiaoLong, where, joined by Professor Zhou Lin, dean of Shanghai Jiao Tong University at the time, Bourdain talked about Chinese economic growth and global geopolitics over steamed soup dumplings and fried pork chops with brown sauce.

Bourdain’s odyssey continued from there to Chun Restaurant, a restaurant with “no menu and no waiting list,” as he described it, “and you only get served if the chef and proprietor knows and/or likes the look of you.”

As the website Eat Like Bourdain posted this past January, the food was served hot and ready: you bao xia (wok-fried whole shrimp with ginger, garlic, salt, and soy), hong shao rou (braised pork belly with cinnamon, sugar, and anise), yan du xian (clay pot soup with bean curd stock, pork belly, tofu, and bamboo), and snail, duck, and fish dishes with rich sweet and soy sauces.

The coup de grace: French oysters in champagne at Shanghai’s Roosevelt Sky Bar as the special guest of Roosevelt China Investments president and CEO Tim Tse, followed by an elegant sitdown meal at Bund 27 and House of Roosevelt with a gathering of some of Shanghai’s more successful and politically connected citizens, among them architect and designer Zeva Wang and real estate developer Daniel Yung.

Crossing over to the other side of the street — literally, as well as figuratively — Bourdain shared a dish of ziran paigu (cumin-rubbed ribs) with hacker-turned-entrepreneur Thomas Yao at Di Shui Dong restaurant. The two talked about freedom on the Internet and the future of technology, dangerous topics to discuss in public, then as now.

Bourdain again:

“I mentioned longing and desire. And in many ways, that’s what this episode is about. China is experiencing an explosive period of change and growth as millions of people are joining the middle class. Millions and millions of people who want and will soon demand the cars, TV screens, apartments, gasoline, access to information, and mobility most of us take for granted.

“China — Shanghai in particular — is a very different-looking place every time I go. And I believe that the world as a whole, largely because of what’s happening in China, will be a very different-looking place. If you live in New York, as I do, and think you live in the most modern, sophisticated city in the world — or even at its centre — Shanghai can come as a rude surprise. In spite of its nominally communist system, it is the most go-go, unfettered, money- and status-mad, materialistic place on Earth. Its skyline alone is confirmation that money talks loudest. In no other city could you build the world’s largest, tallest ominously curved phallus —stick it right up into the clouds like a giant F**K YOU! to the world — and not have trouble with the NIMBYs.”

Oh dear. No one wants trouble with the NIMBYs. Except, of course, when they do.

The thing about Shanghai is, they no longer care. They don’t have to.

Bourdain ended Shanghai as he began it:

“What are our expectations? Which of the things we desire are within reach? If not now, when? And will there be some left for me?”

Nǐhǎo.

CNN

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Bourdain in Brazil

Candomblé, capoeira, and caipirinhas. This was Anthony Bourdain’s pilgrimage to Salvador da Bahia, Brazil, 10 years ago next month. After the end of a long, arduous season of Parts Unknown, Bourdain just wanted to kick back and give viewers a taste of fun and relaxation. It worked.

It’s worth noting that when Anthony Bourdain’s Brazil closed Parts Unknowns’s breakout third season 10 years ago, in June 2014, on CNN, it capped a season that included sobering visits to drug cartel Mexico and Vladimir Putin’s Russia, which, while gripping, didn’t exactly make for comfortable viewing.

The season also featured some of yeoman director/producer Tom Vitale’s then-best work to date, as Parts Unknown took on a more widescreen cinematic vision with each passing hour, beginning with the Punjab in India through Lyon, France, through the Mississippi Delta and finally into the green-limned rice paddies of northern Thailand.

It’s worth noting, too, that Brazil is vast, not so much a country as a subcontinent in its own right, not unlike India. The South is not like the North, and the Atlantic Coast is not like the Amazon.

Bourdain focused on Salvador da Bahia, a city of 3 million people, the original capital of Brazil, in the state of Bahia, situated in the Zona da Mata in Brazil’s sprawling northeast. Though Salvador and the more familiar — to outsiders, anyway — Rio de Janeiro share the same Atlantic coast, Salvador is not Rio, and by this point, Bourdain simply wanted to kick back and enjoy the moment.

“The wellspring for everything African and spicy,” Bourdain said in his opening voiceover, where things seem to sway and move constantly.
”It’s a place where everybody is sexy, where even the ugly people are hot. … This is where artists come from. African spiritualism, occult magic, Candomblé, capoeira. And caipirinhas. Did I mention caipirinhas?”

Oh yes, the caipirinha. “This indispensable icon of Brazilian beach culture is known to start with fresh lime. Muddle and mash with more lime juice, sugar, ice, (and) the magic ingredient, cahaça — that’s basically the distilled liquor of sugarcane — shaken, not stirred, and you’ve got yourself one of the world’s truly great cocktails.”

But wait, there’s more.

“I love nature and caipirinhas. Oh!”— startled by a hand pouring a glass in front of him— “What’s going on here? Caipirinha. Please. Sweet! This alone is an argument for the greatness of this country.”

Sweet indeed.

Bourdain journeyed to the northeast coast of Brazil mere days ahead of the 2014 World Cup, when the tourist hoards had yet to descend, supplemented by planeloads of lager louts from Germany who, as luck would have it, would have themselves a merry old time.

Bourdain found a Brazil cautiously optimistic about hosting a World Cup for the ages, and a chance to make history.

Soccer is to the national soul what samba is, after all, and Edson Arantes do Nascimento, Pelé to you and me, had long ago elevated the Beautiful Game to a worldwide religion, followed everywhere from Azerbaijan to Zimbabwe.

As luck — and some shocking defending — would have it, though, Germany would thump seven goals against the host nation in the semi-final, and dreams of a record World Cup win for Brazil dissipated in the tropical heat like so much sea spray.

The good citizens of Salvador da Bahia did what any sensible, happy-go-luck people with access to a warm ocean would do: they hit the beach.

This, people, is the meaning of life.

Today, ten years later, Germany is miserable — “We need to accept the situation,“ Germany manager Julian Nagelsmann murmured just this past November, hours after Germany lost back-to-back home games against Turkey and their smaller next-door neighbour Austria, “but we can’t fall into the role of being victims” — and Brazil still has the beach.

That 7-1 appointment with Ignominy seems a long time ago now.

For his part, Brazil caught Bourdain in a sunny mood.

Uncharacteristically sunny, you might say, given the rigours of the previous 11 months of making Parts Unknown.  His working relationship with Tom Vitale was always complicated — just read Virtale’s book — but this time everything clicked.

“I try to go to Brazil whenever I can find an excuse,” Bourdain said in his program notes.

“The fact that I haven’t made a show in the city of Salvador since A Cook’s Tour, over 12 years ago, seemed like reason enough for another visit. Salvador is all the best things about the country boiled down into a thick, spicy African stew. It’s mystical, magical, incredibly colourful, and has its own choreography that we worked hard to capture.”

That meant shooting at hip level as much as possible, moving the camera “to convey the sense that, unique to Salvador, everybody is beautiful. Young, old, fat, thin, every hue and shade on an extraordinarily diverse colour spectrum—absolutely everyone in Salvador is beautiful.

“Even ugly people are beautiful. Everybody seems likely to start dancing at any moment, and they often do. There are drums and music everywhere. Large, cold beers and powerful beverages of crushed limes and sugarcane liquor, along with spicy fried things, seem to appear from all directions. It seems, from a visitor’s point of view, utopian.”

It’s not, of course, utopia at all. Brazil in general — and Salvador in particular— face enormous problems.

“I stopped trying to figure out Brazil years ago and after many visits just decided to go with the flow,” Bourdain reasoned. “The show we came back with, I hope, reflects that attitude.

“After nearly a year on the road and a solid block of shooting on five continents, this was the last new episode of the season. Given the rigours of all those miles and all those airports, I felt a “low-impact” episode was appropriate.” That meant somewhere warm where the music is good and the water is fine.

“Someplace that definitely doesn’t suck.”

It doesn’t.

And neither does the show Bourdain, Vitale and their crew produced. The music is alluring, seductive even, the ambiance terrific. “Sweet,” to use Bourdain’s word. Brazil was a fine way to close what was, by all accounts, a tough season to film.

Bourdain again: “I don't know if it's the booze or the music or the tropical heat, but after a while bouncing from place to place, wandering down old cobblestone streets, different music issuing from everywhere, a different party, people flowing out of buildings, one gathering, commingling with another, the music mixing, it really does seem that everybody is moving to some mysterious unknowable pulse, some unheard throb that moves people to constantly touch each other, stroke hips, necks, limbs…

“If you, say, found yourself in Brazil and have a chance to hire a boat, head for the beach with a bunch of new friends, and bring along a skilled mixologist, expertly trained in the fine arts of caipirinha making — why wouldn't you?

“Charge across the water, head for a nice, quiet island, order up some sun to come out from behind dark clouds right about now.

“Sometimes clichés are clichés for a reason. Because they're good ideas to start with, which is why people keep … using them over and over.”

In a perfect world, upon reaching said enchanted island, there’s not much to do but jump into the warm, inviting Atlantic waters, with a classic soundtrack playing in the background. Samba, say.

“Splash around for a while, maybe enjoy a nice cold beer or two,” Bourdain said in his voiceover.

“You truly have not taken a beach until a man has set up the caipirinha station. Then you know the LZ is secure.”
The LZ is indeed secure. Time to land the eagle.

CNN

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Bourdain in Thailand

“I’m a big believer in a healthy, nutritious breakfast,” Anthony Bourdain famously, or not so famously, said during a visit to Thailand, little more than 10 years ago. “It's the most important meal of the day. My doctor said that. Of course, he also said that everything I love and hold dear is killing me, so what does he know?”

Thailand changed everything, Anthony Bourdain said.

“I remember the moment I first realized I've been living my whole life in black and white,” Bourdain said in the Thailand episode of Parts Unknown, which first aired on CNN 10 years ago in June.

“It was like discovering a colour I never knew existed before. A whole new crayon box full of colours. That was it for me.

“From then on, there was no putting the pieces back together. No going home. Things were different now. Asia had ruined me for my old life.”

Thailand, By the numbers: 67 million people. One hundred bottles of whiskey: the number of bottles of whiskey produced each day at the distillery Bourdain visited in the Chiang Mai region in Thailand’s northwest, as far removed from Bangkok, geographically and spiritually, as Venice is from Rome.

Countless: The number of whiskey shots consumed during Bourdain’s stay during the Parts Unknown shoot.

Thailand was the second-to-last episode of Parts Unknown’s third season and it marked a decided change, in both pace and tone, from the political and societal tensions that roiled previous episodes in Russia and Mexico. Bourdain was determined to live life to its fullest in a land that, long before Parts Unknown, had claimed a piece of his heart and soul.

Thailand was also a break for Parts Unknown’s followers, then and now.

The emphasis was on food, and joy — not just ladyboys and joy luck clubs but on the simple joys that make life worth living.

There was the food. Khao kha moo (stewed pork leg) at the Khao Ka Moo Cowboy Hat Lady sidewalk stall in Chang Phueak, Muang. Yes, Cowboy Hat Lady wears a cowboy hat, and she shares a disarming anecdote in Thailand’s first half about when, where, how and why she came to wear a cowboy hat.

There’s the deep-fried chicken and Thai chili nam phrik num at Gia Tod Teing Keun in Muang, in Kanchanaburi province. Not to mention the Khao soi (curry coconut milk noodle soup), som tam (green papaya salad), and Thai rice tea at Khao Soi Lam Duan, also in Muang. And French fries — yes, those French fries — and how they came to be a staple of Thai cooking in Thailand. Bet you didn’t know that.

And don’t forget the pad kee mao (drunken noodles — no jokes, please), kra pao gai (Thai basil chicken) and pad cha talay (seafood stirfy) at Krapao on Chiang Mai-Mae Jo Road in San Sai district

Bourdain’s sidekick, spiritual minder, and culinary host for the hour was Pok Pok restaurateur and US expat Andy Ricker, seven years Bourdain’s junior and renowned for his knowledge of and expertise in cuisine specific to the northern Thai region.

Bourdain: “The good stuff comes from places like here. Rice country. Chiang Mai Province. In this part of the world, you live and die by the harvest. Thai food is intensely regional. Northern Thailand in particular, has many distinctive features. This is a world of fresh, delicious, spicy, meaty, salty, sour, sweet, bitter. Often with a just-picked herby dimension.

“Once known as the kingdom of a million rice fields, it's a fertile, green and gorgeous area, home of the ancient Latta people. Welcome to Chiang Mai Province, tucked up near the borders of Burma, China, Laos, and India, not too far away. All of them have left their mark on the food.”

Enter Andy Ricker.

Bourdain: “Andy has been constantly back and forth from America to Thailand for nearly 25 years now, looking for recipes and techniques and digging deeper and deeper into an amazingly complex and widely misunderstood cuisine.

“And getting his ass chastised by a few aunties as he goes.”

Aided and abetted by copious quantities of the local eau-de-vie.

“He drinks half a bottle every day,” Ricker marvels at one elderly gentleman. So, it's pretty much the Keith Richards health and preservation plan.”

“All right,” Bourdain replies, not one to miss a beat. “We will get healthy, too. The whiskey, I have to say, is taking hold. In some clinically fascinating ways. …  In Chiang Mai, you can move in and out.

“From the quiet green of the countryside to just a few miles away, the madness and chaos of Chiang Mai City. Second largest in Thailand. Spirituality, reflection, the serene beauty of the rice paddy, village life. Maybe next episode.

“This time, it's all about consuming medically inadvisable amounts of food and drink. If Thailand is one of the best countries to eat in, Chiang Mai is a particularly good city to find yourself hungry. Oh, that's the frog.”

On your mark, get set, go.

But first, a clarification.

Bourdain: “This may surprise you, but I am not an alcoholic. I don't drink at home ever. There's no beer in my fridge. If I'm not working, I'm not hanging out in bars. But if I was an alcoholic, and I did hang in bars, I would hang here.”

Bourdain tells Ricker later, “You famously said that you hate the word authentic. “What does that word mean?”

Ricker: “Depends on the context. If you're in the United States and you say traditional authentic Thai restaurant, to me, that has come to mean a standard Thai restaurant in America. That menu. When you come here, authentic is different. You're the daughter of the woman who made this, then to you this is the most authentic version of that dish. If you are from Nan province, you still make larb but it doesn't taste like this. A little bit different.”

Now for some karaoke, maybe?

Bourdain, surprise to say, has his limits.

“The very mention of karaoke makes my blood run cold with fear,” he says, and for a moment there, it’s hard to tell if he’s serious or joking.

“That could be me someday, I'm thinking. Things go just a little wrong, and I go off the rails. This would be all too attractive. I could well see myself singing Happy Birthday in German to tourists at a hotel bar in Jakarta or Bangkok.

“This is gonna stick in my head now, this song. … Chiang Mai at night.

“We are well on our way. To where, to what, I don't know, I don't much care. But I do know it's time to eat. In Thailand, it's almost always time to eat.

“Yes, and drink. We shall be doing that, too.  …  When the journey is coming to an end, when the movie is over, what's left to do?

“Oh, yes, wrap things up. I think we've learned something here today in Chiang Mai; I can't summon what it might be right now,

“Or maybe just say, screw it and have a good time. It is quite beautiful. Thank you so much.”

He is missed.

For supplementary reading, check out this behind-the-scenes account for CNN by longtime Thailand resident and US-born guidebook author Joe Cummings: https://www.cnn.com/travel/article/anthony-bourdain-thailand/index.html

CNN/Joe Cummings

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