Ruining Yet another Anthony Bourdain Recipe: Steak Frites
“[My dad] taught me early that the value of a dish is the pleasure it brings you; where you are sitting when you eat it—and who you are eating it with—are what really matter. Perhaps the most important life lesson he passed on was: Don’t be a snob. It’s something I will always at least aspire to—something that has allowed me to travel this world and eat all it has to offer without fear or prejudice. To experience joy, my father taught me, one has to leave oneself open to it.”
August 1970. Deck of rented house on Long Beach Island, New Jersey.
Anthony Bourdain never held back punches when it came to being vegan. I like to think he’d hate and love me. This feels fine. I think Anthony hated the unadventurous snob. The person who claimed to be vegan but engaged in capitalism without understanding that all things are fraught with harm. The person who looks down on other cultures and eating habits and assumes that they could just be vegan without any thought for their current animal care practices and food economy. There is no such thing as being a perfect vegan. Side note, if you have never seen ‘The Good Place’ they deal with the fact that life is so complicated there are no good choices. You cannot buy an organic tomato and feel good about yourself because that tomato is full of unintended destruction and harm. Basically, yah basic! (an Eleanor burn)
So all of that is to say is that I still really appreciate Anthony’s outlook on life and his writing has had a profound effect on my desire to keep putting myself out there. I struggle a lot with the fact that I will always feel more like a waitress and less like a big girl with a big girl job working in a mortuary doing big girl things. Can you tell I def don’t think I am a ‘big girl’. And truth be told Anthony’s writing hits the spot for people that have worked in the service industry in a way that no writing about mortuary work has ever hit. Look, I want to inspire you to take control of your deathy desires in that I want you to feel at ease to enjoy your one life. But if I had to compare the two worlds, a restaurant is pure anarchy. You are a group of gosh dang pirates that roll out of a drunken stupor to fight another day with your comrades. You may not like one another, heck you may even hate some of your salty pirate crew, but none of you are getting through the shift without one another. And then at some point the lights go up and the last patron leaves the restaurant and you can take another gulp of that cold wine you have been hiding in the side fridge while you sweep the night off the floor and think about where you all want to have your post shift drink. Which, when you work in a big city, there are host of amazing and divey options. You walk drunk from your one job out into the dark of night with a couple hundred in cash hidden all over your person in case you get mugged, willing to risk life and limb on the streets for another cold pour of something-anything-as long as there is alcohol. Your team won.
A mortuary. Well. I think the general public wants some sort of ghoulish and ghostly story about how working in a mortuary is like living inside the Addams Family, but I have said and will continue to say, a mortuary is a place of business. The wildest thing that happens at a mortuary is a personality clash and that could happen literally anywhere. A mortuary is not exciting in any way shape or form and that’s how it should be. Like, hello, um hi. We are taking care of your loved ones and your grief and heartache is not the platform for a salacious novel. And I have to stop there because the people that know me, they know my feelings about using the illusion of working in a mortuary for personal gain, and I feel strongly about the ethics of that. But that is a whole conversation about content creators which I too am a part of.
So when do I get to the article I’m citing? Ugh ok ok here it goes. Today’s article inspiration for Gone Appetit is Anthony Bourdain’s essay he wrote for a Bon Appetit Father’s Day issue in 2012.
In it, he explores how his deep appreciation for food is largely attributed to his father. His father taught him the importance of not being a snob and embracing adventure in life, principles Anthony embodied fully. He also taught Anthony, and now us that the “value of a dish is the pleasure it brings you; where you are sitting when you eat it—and who you are eating it with.” And that is really the entire catalyst for why I selected this article. I mean look, is food important? Of course! But food is a funny thing, because it is a both a background player of nearly all our favorite memories we have with family and friends. When we get together, whether to simply catch up on life or celebrate an occasion, food is always involved. And sometimes we remember the fabulous meal, with all the trimmings and exquisite flavors each bite gave us, but mostly we remember one another and the stories we shared at the table, or the stories we left with after the dinner had ended.
So it’s no wonder that Anthony’s father reiterating the claim that he was "a man of simple needs." would leave such an impression. Anthony wrote, “I remember those words every time I find myself made ridiculously happy by a bowl of noodles eaten while sitting on a low plastic stool, sucking up the smell of burning joss sticks and distant wafts of durian, the sight of Vietnamese families on their motorbikes around me.” And I think that’s what sort of guts me everytime I think of whatever his last moments on earth were. I think it’s also what scares me.
Anthony knew it was the simple things. The simple things he learned from a simple man. And yet life found a way to complicate it. Because that’s what life does it adds too many ingredients to a simple dish. It turns the flame up on the back burner and scorches us into the bottom of the pan. It sears and sweats. A natural process that can create something beautiful like transforming a simple onion into a sweet decadent treat. Too much heat though. Too much salt. It withers us to nothing. I think that last night for Anthony his brain played the cruelest trick any of us who suffer from daily depression are all too familiar with. It told him that the burners were up and there was no hope of turning them back down. It told him that the simple beauty of a baguette and butter would never be enough to soak up the soggy the mess the world has plated and served up to us. I ache an awful lot for a man who would have brutally disliked everything about my cooking. Because I see a kindred spirit.
So I thank him. I thank his dad. I thank him for getting the world to care about food and to appreciate what it means to work in a kitchen. How he painted the chaos with the rawness of a black and blue steak. Leaving the char and the blood soaking into every page.
And so I once again honor him, by pulling a recipe from this article, a decent steak frites at a crummy brasserie, which in his father’s eyes was as good as a fine-dining meal and I’ve made it vegan. And somewhere from the other side I hope I hear him groan and roll his eyes in jest, but maybe he’d still take a bite and appreciate a gosh dang good mushroom and some shitty diner fries.
Portobello Steak Frite
Ingredients
Instructions
- You first want to marinate the portobellos. Add the veggie broth, olive oil, steak sauce, liquid smoke, soy sauce and chopped garlic to a large freezer bag that seals really well.
- Then place the portobellos into the bag, seal and shake around to coat the mushrooms completely. Lay them flat so they are submerged in the marinade. Marinate for at least 2 hours, but I like to leave them over night.
- When you are ready to cook the mushrooms, preheat the oven to 425 degrees.
- Remove the mushrooms from the bag and place them on a baking sheet. Then place the french fries on a separate baking sheet, because the mushrooms will get super juicy and you don't want the fries to soak in the juice.
- Bake the mushrooms and fries at the same time. Bake the mushrooms for 20-25 minutes flipping halfway through baking. Check the directions on your fries for timing, but they most commonly will bake at 425 for about 20-25 minutes as well!
- While the mushrooms and fries are baking, make the roasted red pepper chimichurri sauce. Add all the sauce ingredients to a blender or food processor. Blend until smooth. add a few pinches of salt and pepper. Taste and adjust seasoning.
- Once the mushrooms and fries are done, serve immediately topped with sauce.