The Nasty Bits: Collected Varietal Cuts, Usable Trim, Scraps, and Bones

by Anthony Bourdain

Words fail me. Again and again. Or maybe it's me that fails the English language. My depiction of the day's rather extraordinary events is workmanlike enough, I guess . . . but, typically, I fall short. How to describe the feeling of closeness and intimacy

driven by concerns far from taste or pleasure. The "slow food" lobby, arguing for sustainable sources of food, organic and free-range products, cruelty-free meat, and a return to a photogenic but never-to-be-realized agrarian wonderland, seem to overlook the fact that the stuff is expensive, and that much of the world goes to bed hungry at night—that most of us can't hop in the SUV with Sting and drive down to the organic greenmarket to pay twice the going rate.

Restaurants are supposed to be about the food, aren't they? They're supposed to be . . . well . . . fun.

The stove, the oven, the open can of propane, the roadside grill, the barbecue pit, the hearth are where food is made. Right? The place of heat is where cooks and eaters congregate, will always congregate, to share food and stories. Thus it has always been. Thus it will always be.

And who would listen to anyone who can visit Thailand—a country with one of the most vibrant, varied, exciting culinary cultures on the planet (including a rich tradition of tasty vegetarian fare)—and refuse to sample its proudly served and absolutely incredible bounty? What kind of cramped, narrow, and arrogant worldview could excuse shutting oneself off totally from the greater part of an ancient and beautiful culture?

Watching Masa run his scary sharp knife through that pale, pornographic-looking tuna, separating and peeling back one layer after another before slicing and applying it to your piece—the piece you know is going to be in your mouth in just a few more seconds—is like sex. In fact it's better than most sex. There is no risk of disappointment. Watching Masa pack about eighty dollars (wholesale!) of that incredible once-in-a-lifetime tuna into a single nori roll makes you want to faint.

"What is 'better?'" asked Adria, holding up a small, lovely looking pear. "A pear? Or a white truffle? Is a white truffle 'better' because it's more expensive? Because it's rare?" He doesn't know, he said. But he wanted to find out.