By Nisha Ravi
In memory of Anthony Bourdain, a man who taught me how to travel. He once said, “Take me to that special place, where everything is beautiful and nothing hurts” and I believe he spent his entire life in pursuit of it. And helped million others find it too.

Anthony Bourdain.
For as long as I can remember I have let him take me -- an awkward teenager with bushy eyebrows and a skinny frame, all around the world. It was he who showed me the deep dish pizzas in Chicago and phos in Vietnam before they witnessed Instagram fame. It was through his eyes I learnt that a city called Port Au Prince existed, better still, with excellent looking food. It was through him I bewildered at the bat soup or the fire ant chutney in the North Eastern regions of India. He taught me that Rocky Mountain oysters had nothing to do with oysters, they were instead bull testicles crumb fried to look devilishly good.
Anthony Bourdain: No Reservations would be up at 9pm on Travel and Living Channel, now TLC. My only dinner time show. For as long as I can remember, I loved his showmanship over anyone else’s. Don’t get me wrong, Samantha Brown’s Passport to Europe was fun and all, but it didn’t hold a candle to the crude storytelling that Bourdain somehow seemed to have mastered.
I remember one specific episode (I can’t remember the details) he said something like, ‘If you want a bloody rosy picture of this city where you can go as a tourist and click photos, eat at pretty places and all that BS, then wait an hour, Samantha Brown will come on and tell you exactly how to do that….’. That was Anthony Bourdain for you. Raw and irreverent and honest and careless. I guess it comes from being a struggling line cook/ chef for the better part of your adult life. I guess it comes from struggling to stay alive for the better part of your life. I guess it comes from multiple failures and the disbelief that creeps up from new found success. It comes from having an appetite for good old riffing and love and camaraderie unlike any we know today. Brown and Bourdain were friends despite their differences. In many interviews she speaks of how he would bring food to her on the sets, to apologise for all the times he took a dig at her on his show.
She even makes an appearance in his infamous yearly Christmas show as a TV anchor who has gone off rails, is living in a one room apartment with hundreds of cats. The episode features a well dressed Anthony visiting her with food while she looks dishevelled, hurling abuses at a television that is playing old No Reservation episodes. She got to write her own script and she made the best use of it by making him sound like the anti-hero in her life story, whose disparaging remarks lead the network to see her as a boring “adorable” anchor. All good natured of course.

One of the most memorable episodes for me was his trip to Vietnam. Bourdain loved Vietnam. The episode of No Reservations is titled “Vietnam: The Island of Mr. Sang” where he arrives in Ha Noi and is seen veering off into the chaos of the city on a motorcycle. The quality of the video is as blurry as is the knowledge of what food and adventure awaits him.
So when I visited Vietnam recently, I decided to do most, if not all of his favourite food joints.
By the way, he called it then. He said, Vietnam is raw and pure and pristine. It's going to be decades until someone discovers this slice of heaven and when they do, it will be the top country to visit. He was right.
I didn’t get a chance to eat the ‘squeezel’ a porcupine dish or the local brew, rượu đế, a a Vietnamese moonshine or even the disturbing looking foetal eggs.
I did however make my way to eat some of the Bánh Xèo at Quán Bánh Xèo 46A in Hồ Chí Minh City. The crispy, flaky crepe with shrimp was a welcome evening snack served fresh off the pan.
I even tried to time my week in Saigon to eat Bún bò Huế at 'The Lunch Lady' on a Friday, but had no such luck. I managed to make it to the small nondescript eatery on a Wednesday instead and got to sample the Cà ri gà, a yellowish-white curry broth with whole chicken legs, perfectly grilled skin, potatoes, a generous sprinkling of roughly chopped vegetables, an occasional jiggly blood cake, pork knuckles -- all submerged in a coconut and curry flavoured broth. And while I am inclined to believe this is the most un-Vietnamese Vietnamese curry, it is still a hearty bowl of soup served fresh with a crusty slice of baguette.

The Lunch Lady runs a cart eatery in Quận 1. She has a set menu and makes one delicious brothy, meaty noodle dish a day. Almost all dishes are about 40,000VND which is about $2. Her menu is below:
Monday Dish: Bún Thái
Tuesday Dish: Bún Mọc
Wednesday Dish: Cà ri gà
Thursday Dish: Bún mắm
Friday Dish: Bún bò Huế
Saturday Dish: Bánh canh cua
Sunday Dish: Bún riêu
I did however try some Bún riêu in Hội An and the sharp and tangy tomato broth generously specked with assorted seafood is as interesting as it refreshing.
Bourdain claims he had the best bánh mì in Hội An at Bánh Mì Phuong. Having spent 22 days traversing the length and breadth of this South East country I can assure you, this is the best one yet. The pork sausage and the grilled beef bánh mìs are both absolutely stunning. The sharp funk from the fermented meat, the spice, the mealiness of the bread, the crisp freshness from the vegetables and the iron-y velvety texture of the pâté. If you are somebody who hates standing in lines for hours to get a sandwich, I urge you to choose to stay in this one. Bourdain was 100% right, this one is worth it.
Cao lầu, just like the equally popular white lotus dumpling, I noticed, can be found only in Hội An, which is the central part of Vietnam. Hội An, beautiful coastal town is actually an ancient town of Vietnam. As a prominent part of the silk route, this town’s facade is French with Vietnamese refurbishments dotted with red Chinese bridges. Lanterns light up the nights and the town is a magical escape from the hustle and bustle of the nearby city of Da Nang. The Central Market in Hội An is where you’ll find many restaurants serving Cao lầu, a lush dish made of rice noodles that are soaked in lye water which gives it the distinct chewy texture. The broth is littered with deliciously seasoned pork, and fresh vegetables. Zesty herbs dot the rest of the bowl making it a noodle dish unlike any other in Vietnam.
Keeping up with the Bourdain trail, I flew to Ha Noi to sample the beef phở at Phở Bo, Ga. A small hole in the wall, swarming with locals. Low, red plastic stools are strewn across the cemented floor, harsh white tube lights make the white plastic table top glisten. The aroma is heady. The laughter and chatter and chaos and rush is maddening. The phở is top quality. Frill free. Good old chewy noodles, a hearty broth, melt-in-mouth bits of beef. Vietnamese herbs, lemons, onions, chilli flakes and a large bottle of incredibly spicy chilli sauce can be found on every table. The chatter seems to diminish when the piping hot bowl is served. Heads down, slurp, slurp slurp. No time is wasted. And I know exactly why.

I ended up spending an unusually long time at the train street in Ha Noi and almost didn’t make it to Bún chả Hương Liên to eat the beloved and most memorable bún chả. The very same one Bourdain shared with President Barrack Obama. I remember running up the street and tumbling into the still crowded restaurant huffing and puffing. He pointed upwards asking us to head upstairs and so we went up two flights of stairs to be finally seated in a corner, believe it or not, right next to the exact table where Bourdain and Obama shared a meal. It was of course encased in glass, the bowls, chopsticks, beer bottles and napkins left intact (cleaned of course). While we decided against the Obama combo (an exact combo of the items they had ordered) and ordered a Saigon beer to share with a quick bowl of bún chả. Perfectly charred pork is served in a thin, fragrant broth. A large heap of cold vermicelli noodles is served alongside.
I was, however distracted. I couldn’t help but stare at the encasement and think of that episode of Parts Unknown. And I couldn’t help but shed a tear in honour of the man who taught me to travel, who lit a fire in me to pursue a career in journalism (which unfortunately never happened), who taught me that honest is better than adorable, who taught me to look at life and culture and people through the lens of food and food only, who perhaps even inspired me to start Kara and publish this today. And while this meal right next to a shrine dedicated to him, was pickled with grief from knowing he would not be in front of a camera ever again, the most predominant feeling was and will always be gratitude.
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