At the risk of repeating myself, with my imminent trip to meet Célestine in NYC, my first after thirteen long years, I have been researching things food. Before Célestine arrives by bus from Montréal at six in the morning, poor waif, I shall be dining previously at Blue Hill Farm in the Village, but onwards from there it will be cheap and authentic (well, that’s the goal).
And my research inevitably led me to Anthony Bourdain, again, and his roving feasting travelogues. Of which this, though not the finest or most rarified of foods to have passed through his gullet, is certainly the epitome of cool. Cool for him, cool for us and cool for Barack. But Barack is always cool.
Two men, a noodle joint and something verging on (my) hero-worship. It’s always dangerous to build humans into something greater than they can be, but these are and were two of our finer examples.
Like Bourdain, I am prepared to eat (just about) anything; my only fear for the trip is snow.
*”Dialogue de Sourds” – French expression for a conversation between deaf people, where each talks, but nobody listens.