The Crew's Blog: Anthony Bourdain: No Reservations : World, Travel, Food, Wine

The One Thing You Don't Do

2008-04-07T15:07:15Z

By Paul Cabana, producer

When filming a prison interview, the one thing you don't do is keep a shot tape in the camera, in case they ask you to hand it over. When you're producing a home makeover show, the one thing you don't do is become the middleman between a homeowner and a contractor, because you effectively become the contractor. When directing No Reservations, the one thing you don't do is tell Tony what to say because, well, you just don't.

I've worked with a few different hosts and a lot of times, you just feed 'em lines. It's not disingenuous or manipulative. When you do, you have no choice.
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Although the same math applies to Anthony Bourdain: No Reservations, the same rule does not apply to Anthony Bourdain. There could be some hostage strapped to a bomb that can only be diffused by Tony looking at a camera and saying what town he's in and why he's there, you still don't tell him what to say.

So what do you do?

Laos Day 4, Scene 3, Strategy 1: You ask really, really nicely. Tony and guest are riding on elephants through the forest. In the one moment the elephants are next to each other, still and all cameras are perfectly lined up, I tell Tony 'hey, this would be a great time to ask a question.' I think the only conversation that will make the final cut is Tony telling me that there is a reason in those old Westerns, they don't film people talking while on horses.

Laos Day 4, Scene 1, Strategy 2: You kindly suggest. I'm filming Tony looking at a ricefield where 13 live bombs from the Vietnam War have been found and wired to explode. Before they detonate, I suggest to Tony that after the bombs go off, it would be a great moment to open the show. What followed was 13 bombs going off and then a deafening silence.

Laos Day 3, Scene 2, Strategy 3: You find a workaround. Tony is sitting around a huge spread with a group of villagers. After 10 minutes of silent eating, there is absolutely no conversation. I make eye contact with the camera guys and raise one finger which tells them to go in for tight singles. Then I tell the translator to call over to one of the guests and ask him to ask Tony a specific question (in Laoso so Tony won't be annoyed.) After a minute, the guest looks up and asks with total sincerity, "Tony, why did you want to come to Laos?" What follows is an amazingly heartfelt and surprising response that made the scene one of my favorites.

Laos Last Day, Scene 1, Strategy 4: You just let him talk when he wants to talk. By the last morning, I had absolutely no footage of Tony talking to camera and I was resigned to just make it work when I got back. We all break off to each film the countryside as dawn lifts. Although he's on a break, Tony decides to follow Zach, one of the camera guys, to some bridge.

Of course, I don't know this is happening until later that morning when Zach hands me a tape and insists I watch right there as he looks on. He never does this, so it must be good. In some cafe by the river, mopeds whirring behind me, I cue it up. I watch Tony crossing a narrow bamboo bridge through the morning fog, monks in bright orange robes passing by, lush, green rice fields in the distance. He sits down, looks right at the camera, and describes why this country is so hauntingly beautiful, so unforgettable -- putting in perfectly unscripted terms what the whole crew had been feeling all week.

Hawaii - The Editor's Take

2008-03-03T19:20:29Z

To paraphrase a well-known chef, author and TV personality, making television is a lot like making sausage. Some seemingly strange and terrible things happen in the process, but the end result is usually very satisfying. So to follow this analogy through, if making TV is like making sausage then, I suppose editing would be like the part where the various bits are stuffed into the intestinal casing. Thankfully, this is all just metaphorical; I’ve yet to actually use an intestinal casing in any project. Anyway, the point is-- editing a very satisfying job (this show especially so). The amount of creative input you’re afforded, the opportunity to shape something from a rough outline & raw footage to a finished product is great, and I’m lucky to have this for a career. But at the end of the day, who the hell knows what an editor really does? I’ve been working in this field for a few years now, and it’s still not a simple question for me to answer … ]]>
Well . . .no.

I get to watch all the crazy stuff he does and help whittle it all down from fifty hours to forty-five minutes. This explanation usually elicits something in the neighborhood of: “Hmmm. . .” or “Oh. . .” or occasionally I get a “Really. . .” Now, it’s true, I don’t get to experience the exciting exploits of the ABNR crew… the smorgasboard of exotic foods …the sublime beauty of a sunset on Waimea … a taste of the local hooch … but that’s okay, because there’s something else I don’t get to do -- worry.

I work in a comfortable, safe, air-conditioned production space in downtown Manhattan. The biggest peril I face on any given day is whether I will make it to the office before the complimentary bagels and fruit are gone. I can work comfortable in the knowledge that I will never have to swim in river fluke infested waters. I will never have to drink fermented beverages of dubious origins. I’ll never come in contact with DefCon 1 level gastrointestinal parasites; I’ll never be expected to eat anything I might want to have as a pet. Nor will I be obliged to load up on mystery meat, just-removed genitals, dirt, feces, etc. There’s no worry of vomiting on camera while squid fishing in rough seas. No worry of hitting that one village where the Avian Swine Ebola outbreak just started. No chance that I’ll fall from a helicopter that’s flying twenty feet above a molten lava field. My job is light on the adventure and sex appeal, but heavy on the free coffee. I got no complaints.

Actually, that’s not entirely true. Like all editors, I’ve got a shitload of complaints. If you’ve ever spent any prolonged amount of time with an editor than you know that complaining is as close as most will get to a contact sport. It is woven into the spirals of an editors DNA.

“The edit room’s too hot.” “The edit room’s too cold.” “This editing system is too old.” “This editing system is too new.” “I’ve got how many weeks to cut this episode?” “The network wants to take out what?! That’s the best part of the show!” “What do you mean when you say, ‘more midgets'?” And on, and on, and on. In the process of editing it’s often necessary to have to play and replay a single section of an edit multiple times to make sure that the picture, or sound mix, or music cue is working just as you want it to. I can’t count the number of times that I’ve been working next door to someone who’s cutting a show and they have their playback speakers set at “Who Concert” decibel levels. And it’s inevitably a truly horrendous show, something along the lines of a Celine Dion world tour video, a show about monster trucks, or a Girls Gone Wild Director’s Cut DVD. And did I mention the lack of exposure to sunlight?

Even if you’re lucky enough to work in an edit room with a window, it’s typically covered so as to avoid any glare on the monitor. To help illustrate just how little natural light editors see on a daily basis I’ve compiled a short list of people who average more hours of exposure to sunlight per day than editors.

People Who Average More Daily Exposure to Sunlight Than Editors:

1. Prisoners in solitary confinement

2. People living above the Arctic Circle from September through December

3. Anthracite miners

4. Children who have fallen down wells

5. Subway construction workers

6. Scientists studying bush babies

7. Missile silo technicians

8. Russian Naval submarine crews

9. Naked mole rats

10. Vampires

This is merely a small sampling, but you get the idea.

Despite the lack of natural light, despite the sedentary nature of the job, despite the fact that you can only vicariously enjoy all of the amazing places that Tony visits, it’s still a great gig. Editing is, in many ways, like writing. You have the chance to craft the episode in the edit room and nothing is more satisfying than taking the scene that was never meant to be or the one that didn’t quite turn out the way everyone thought it was going to and turning it into what our host likes to refer to as “video gold.”

It’s also a collaborative art, you, the producer, the executive producers and of course, Tony help to turn a handful of separate scenes into a journey that hopefully informs as well as entertains.

I recently finished work on the Hawaii episode, which will be airing on March 3rd (10 p.m. e/p). It came out great. Our camera crews shot some truly remarkable stuff and Tony had a great time. Anyone reading this will undoubtedly be pulling up the Hawaiian Airlines website as soon as the show ends. So, enjoy!

And now if you’ll excuse me, I have to get to the kitchen and snag that last sesame bagel before returning to the edit bunker. More quality television awaits!

Riding the Producer or Some Kind of Mixed Metaphor

2008-03-03T19:07:26Z

By Producer Max Landes

We set out to explore Hawaii's central myths - Tiki bars, luaus, Spam, the Vulcan Goddess, and, of course, big wave riding. And when I say "big wave" I mean the 30 foot vertical wall that boys from Palm Beach to Palm Springs gaze up at from their bunk beds before going to sleep at night. After all, this is the Bourdain Show, the man's eaten a wart hog's ass - it has to be spectacular.
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Surfer's are not production types. They don't synch their iBooks to their Blackberries - they sleep in VW's and rub their equipment in something called Sex Wax. Needless to say, nailing down Darrick and his cohorts is slippery business. We would call, wait, get cryptic messages about the sea. We were getting the impression that the size of the surf might not be what we were hoping for, so, on the day Zach (trusty camera man) and I decide to pre-scout the North Shore and let Tony catch some extra Z's. Keeping Tony happy is every producer's PFD (personal flotation device).

On the way to the infamous Haleiwa Harbor - home to crankster gangsters (meth dealers) and other assorted ornery locals - I finally get the elusive Double D on the phone. His few words to me are "meet me in the parking lot, I'll be in a hood." This is gonna be neato. When we get there a lone figure is set against the surf, back to us, staring not at tsunamis, but something more akin to a punch bowl - something you'd loose your toddler in were he equipped with the appropriate floaties. Darrick actually turns out to be a very cool guy, the consummate soul surfer who doesn't so much answer questions as respond with greater philosophical queries, like "today, nobody owns the ocean, but who will the ocean own today?" Deep and foreboding.

We quickly hatch a plan to send Zach out on the jet ski so that we can determine if he's even capable of holding a shot while bouncing around on the back of one of these things. So while Zach and Double D zip around on the giant puddle, I pace the shore trying to decide whether or not to postpone the shoot. On the one hand, there are no waves and my boss' parting words are still ringing in my ears. On the other hand, I've already spent one day's steep set of fees just to get Double D and crew out in the slop with their neon crotch rockets. I'm really in the production trenches now boy.

Finally, the prospect of slogging Tony through traffic to present him with the lagoon of love I'm looking at, scares me more than my mounting budget and I decide to call base camp and tell them to reschedule for Monday. Meanwhile, Double D and Zach come puttering back - Zach looks like he just saw the Titanic sink, shaking his head slowly, a mix of fear and apology. You see, way back in the early planning days of this debacle Zach had insisted that we didn't need a special surf videographer, that having braved so many inhospitable climates with Tony before, he was the man for the job. Shoulders slumped, wet, a shadow of his former self, he was now resolute about our need for a specialist. I had to agree, if he couldn't hack it in the kiddy pool how would he do in the real surf I was banking on for Monday. Double D informed us that this meant we had to contact the renowned Don King - ocean shooter non pareil. I pictured the fat boxing promoter in a skintight wetsuit with his shock of white hair whipping around in the spray. Apparently, it wasn't the same guy - but he was going to charge the equivalent of a championship purse ... Cha- ching. This segment's gonna rock.

When Zach and I get back to Honolulu, dejected and tired, we find out that Tony has found a local and eccentric take on the hotdog (apparently an obsessive quest for him), and not only that, he's directed his own scene revolving around this meat tube that gets mechanically shot into a closed cylindrical bun. Yes, apparently he couldn't stand for the lag in productivity our excursion had caused and roused his beloved cameraman "Toddles" out of bed to shoot his own segment and in effect pirate my show (if the captain of a ship can be mutinous)... I wont spoil what happened Monday because you can see for yourself when the episode airs. I will, however tell you that Double D sent us off with a warm smile and the ancient surf dictum "the sea is in charge..." I could adapt that in a number of ways to apply to my line of work but I think in this case it'll have to be "how much does the sea charge?"

Careful With That Wish Eugene

2008-02-26T15:00:13Z

Once and a while someone on one of these message boards makes a comment
to the effect of “I wish I had your job” or “You have my dream job” usually
directed at one of the ‘No Reservations’ producers.

I recently had the opportunity to observe producer/director Paul Cabana and
segment producer Rennik Soholt “living the dream” as it were and it was
an interesting reality check.

I met the whole crew when they arrived at our hotel in Tokyo with the intention of taping their arrival. They were coming off of a week in Laos and looked it. In fact, they looked so sick, tired and out of it I actually took pity on them and turned off my camera.
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Rule #1 to the dream; you work sick, you work tired and then you start the next show with one days “rest.”

Incidentally, Rule #1 doesn’t apply to Tony. He had a press conference an hour after he arrived; or Rennik. Segment producers work with our in-country “fixers” to make sure that we really have something to shoot so that there’s a show to edit later. Segment producers quickly learn that about half of whatever’s been “confirmed” over the phone has changed, disappeared, been misrepresented or otherwise come unglued by the time we’ve arrived.

Our Japan fixer Michiko is as good as it gets and yet she and Rennik were either in conference or on the phone constantly during the trip.

Other things the segment producer does;
a)   Log the 75 hours of tape shot in Laos so that they can be loaded
      as soon as we get back.
b)   Act as camera assist on the shoots. Rennik knows whose wide angle lens
      is whose, which batteries go where and keeps the gear from disappearing.
    c) Supply food and drugs. Yes, drugs. Advil, Aleve, Tylenol, Excedrin,
      a dozen other pain killers and most importantly Imodium (don’t leave home without it, seriously).

So maybe you’d like to direct. That must have been Paul’s dream once. To show up at a location you’ve never seen, plot out a two camera shoot and try to establish a story line consistent with the rest of the show in
about 20 minutes. That and get enough B roll footage and establishing
shots, much of which he shoots himself as our third camera.

Directors do at least get into the locations. Rennik and I spent a surprising
amount of time outside of tiny Japanese restaurants trying to stay warm.

You might think people would get cranky and fed up and quit. You would be wrong. I’ve never seen a more focused bunch of professionals
with a better attitude towards doing excellent work.

Oh, and I don’t know of any positions available at this time.

ANOTHER DAY AT THE OFFICE

2008-01-29T22:39:17Z

By Producer, Tom Vitale

A few months ago when the first cold front hit New York, I was contentedly sunning on a beach in Greece. I’ll admit it, I have a great job. Whenever the topic comes up with new friends or acquaintances, without fail the first question asked is “Do you need an assistant?” The next is invariably “Do you have to eat all the gross stuff that Tony does?”

Contrary to popular belief the vast majority of the food we encounter is far from bizarre, it’s delicious. Still it’s true; occasionally I’m forced to eat something I find kind of nasty, like that steamed shark’s head in Singapore. In the interest of not offending our proud and generous hosts, the crew knows when faced with this situation, to smile and politely choke it down. Not such a big deal. Refusing, as Tony says, would be to “bring shame upon the clan.”

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The evening before, we had filmed a raki making/drinking scene. For those of you not in the know, raki is a supercharged moonshine distilled from the fermented by products of the winemaking process. Suffice to say it is powerful stuff. As the hours passed the crew and I all drank shot after shot of this stuff at an ever-accelerating rate. To decline would be an insult. Our polite protests of “we’re working” and “o.k. just a little!” were, by the end of the evening, no more than slurred utterances of thanks. You can see Todd and me ‘taking one for the team’ after the first commercial break.

But I digress—the point is, the next day as we twisted and turned up a near vertical incline of switchbacks heading toward our mountain top sheep killing scene—I wasn’t feeling my best. First thing to greet us upon arrival was a darling little lamb. Meekly blinking and tied to the bed of a pickup, I was struck by how much it reminded me of a beloved stuffed animal from childhood. I was starting to get the message this was going to be one of those days.

There I was in a dusty and barren landscape, suffering a blistering hangover with the hot noonday sun beating down on my aching head. I’m really, really thirsty. And can you guess what Greek shepherds drink when they need to quench their thirst? Yes, it’s the ubiquitous raki. Oh please no. It’s now fully clear Greek drinking practices are an occupational hazard I would have to deal with. Five shots later and I’m in a nauseated daze wondering if people here are just celebrating the unusual event of a visit from an American TV crew, or if we’re stranded on an island of serious alcoholics.

I’m trying to do my job, trying to stay in control of the situation. But spurred by the fear of further imbibing I seize the opportunity to escape. Stumbling away I come face to face with our lunch-to-be which Tony has affectionately named ‘Socks.’ Out of the pot and into the fire I go as the poor little thing keeps staring up at me with a desperately pleading look on her face. Before I can find a nice rock to crawl under, it’s time to say goodbye to our cute little friend. I’m going to spare you the gory details of Socks’ end, most of which I missed while hiding in the bushes. A place I probably would have remained if not frightened by a snake.

That, however, is not the end of the story. Socks was quartered and skewered for roasting on the fire. His organs removed and placed in a plastic grocery bag after several choice pieces were fished out. One of which, the intestine, is the fattiest and most prized part of the animal. It requires minimal preparation, just a quick rinse before being stuffed with diced spleen and thrown on the fire. Note to self: skip the spleen course today. I’ll just make sure to blend into the background, maybe go for a walk when it’s ready to be served.

Unfortunately, my plans of ‘disappearing’ at the moment of truth are dashed by a hail of bullets as the shepherds begin discharging live rounds of ammunition into the air. “They do that when they’re happy,” our guide cheerfully explains. Best to stick close to the pack I think. Just then one our hosts whips out his machete and slices off a pinky sized piece of the spleen-stuffed intestine and looks in my direction. Time grinds to a halt. Beads of sweat form on my brow and a metallic taste floods the back of my mouth temporarily drowning out the stale raki. Refusing would be a cardinal offense, but at this point I don’t care. “Oh, no thank you” I protest, “I’m so full!” For a minute I think I’m actually going to get away with this transparent lie. But alas the man continues to gesticulate, his fervor catching Tony’s attention. “Tom,” Tony says with that stern tone usually reserved for recalcitrant children “eat it.” It has been spoken, the die is cast, there’s no way out.

Trembling, I take a bite ... the taste is not all together repulsive—but no matter. I’ve already thoroughly visualized what I’m eating. The thought of probable lamb shit in my mouth, the hangover, and the raki infused bile churning in my stomach are not a good mix. The situation reaches critical mass when for some reason I can’t swallow—I really try but I can’t. The longer Socks’ lower GI system remains in contact with my taste buds, the more dire the situation becomes. I can feel it coming. I’m going to loose it and vomit in the middle of a scene (a No Reservations first by the way), forever besmirching our reputation on the Island of Crete. An unforgivable act that will surely insult the kindness of twenty gun-wielding shepherds.

I’m frightened and I want to go home. My eyes are tearing up, the color is draining from my face and everyone at the table now has their gaze trained on me. A terrible grimace forms as I mime chewing—not missing a step, both cameras point their lenses in my direction. My field of vision blurs, and the gag reflex so desperately repressed begins to kick in. Then as if by divine intervention at the last moment I somehow manage to swallow. It’s truly a miracle.

As quickly as the horror began, normalacy (of a kind) resumes. The Greeks go back to ripping away at Socks’ charred corpse, the cameras refocus on the meal and Tony is appeased (which means I still have a job). Disaster oh so narrowly averted. Even though things turned out ok (for me if not Socks) I’m having trouble seeing a Happy Ending. I guess if I had to find some meaning here—a moral perhaps—it would be eating and drinking for a living is not as glamorous as you might think. But I still wouldn’t trade it for the world.

To: Tony, Re: Your Recent Blog Post About Caving in Jamaica

2008-01-29T16:10:41Z

By Producer, Diane Schutz

Tony: I love you like a brother – but after hearing you talk about the difficulty of our caving adventure in Jamaica, I needed to chime in here! I’m convinced you’ve become, as your British pals might say, a big girl’s blouse.

You wrote that this was “the hardest, most physically demanding, insanely foolhardy and irresponsible venture ever on NO RESERVATIONS”. Really? I know your memory is somewhat selective, but can I remind you of such shoots as Malaysia, where we hauled ass through the jungles of Sarawak for 6 hours, trying to keep up with our 80-something-year-old, amazingly fit Iban guide? Or New Zealand, where we huffed and puffed up 45-degree-angle hills to hunt a 400-pound wild boar – an angry boar that could have turned on any of us at a given moment, carving us into carpaccio?

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The “steaming” jungle was a walk in the park compared to past endeavors. You’re just annoyed that we had to dry-hump a log to cross the river. Though I give you credit – you successfully (and gracefully, I might add) sauntered across that log on the return, pulling your best Mary Lou Retton impression. Yeah, we probably won’t use that footage. Dry-humping the log is funnier.

For the record: I NEVER said there would be “hand rails and a gift shop”. I’m pretty sure I even included this disclaimer in the production material, taken from the Jamaican Caves Organization website:
It must always be remembered that caving is inherently dangerous. Proper precautions can greatly reduce the likelihood of injury or death, but there is a definite risk involved and this cannot be forgotten.

No? I didn’t include that? Oops. Sorry. Still – the experience wasn’t THAT bad… was it?

True, it was a bit of a challenge just getting in (and out) of that cave, via the vertical tree roots. And navigating down and around sharp, slippery boulders in the dark isn’t something that any of us do every day. I especially give Todd, Zach and Paul a lot of credit – navigating the difficult terrain with a camera in one hand wasn’t easy. You forgot to mention the part where Paul dropped a new production camera in a puddle of bat urine.

Still – the pride and enthusiasm of our guides from the Jamaican Caves Organization was contagious. I also appreciated that they brought along some very cute Peace Corps volunteers to help out (that really dishy one… what was his name?) I loved every second of it. The post-caving pictures of our group says it all.

You should have saved your muddy clothes from this shoot. We could have auctioned them off, donating the money to charities for bat guano research.

Rainbows and unicorns forever…Diane

Hello Kendo

2008-01-28T17:09:48Z

Hi. I’m Christopher Martinez, editor of some of your favorite No Reservations shows. And Sweden.

Yeah, Sweden. I’d appreciate you not sharing with me any further insights on the
that show until after publication of my 3 volume critical analysis/after action report with
the working title, “Sweden: An ABBA Joke Too Far”.

Moving on…

For no particularly good reason I’ve been allowed to accompany the ABNR crew on the
shoot for the upcoming Japan show which I’ll start editing when we return. ]]> Actually Chris and Lydia are aware of my longstanding interest in Japan
though to be honest I may have failed to mention that it’s primarily in the 10th century
Heian Period but hey, I’m here now and that’s what’s important.

Our first day of shooting brought us to the Budokan which, as an American, I of
course associate with a really old Cheap Trick record but which the Japanese
associate with serious cultural stuff like Sumo wrestling and Kendo.

We’re here to do a segment with Kendo master Tadao Toda.

My work, in a few weeks, will be to make the above statement meaningful to you.

Kendo can be misunderstood as Japanese swordplay with bamboo practice swords.

This is akin to describing the sun as a big light bulb that doesn’t work at night.

Tadao Toda will be harder to express.
Telling you that he’s won the national championship 8 times won’t do it.

Two things that won’t be in the final edit might help.

Firstly. From the moment we got there and met him, everyone on the crew started
referring to him as “The Master”. No one told us to. It was just closest you could get
to describing this “presence”.
All of those martial arts movies are trying to fake what Tadao Toda actually is.

Secondly. Standing just outside the door to the dojo were a few officials of the
National Kendo Association. Guys who are around Kendo every day of the week.
You might expect them to be talking shop, on the phone or reading the paper.

No way.

You would swear that the world’s biggest baseball fans were getting to watch Babe Ruth
take batting practice. Ninety minutes or pure pleasure watching the master show how it’s done.

My work is cut out for me.

COMING UP!!! I’ll try to write something about Tony and the crew and their zany hijinx on the road.

No Matter How Things Change…

2008-01-03T20:58:14Z

By Jared Andrukanis, Segment Producer

I am sitting in my office at Zero Point Zero trying to figure out exactly how we are going to get Queens of the Stone Age out to New York in the middle of their U.S. Tour when my phone rings. It is Chris, the Executive Producer of the show, and when he tells me where I am going on my next shoot, I nearly drop the phone out of my hand.
Chris says that Tony is going to New Orleans, and it is going to be a different kind of “No Reservations”…
I know it sounds strange that a statement like that could cause me enough shock to lose my grip on the handset of my office phone, but let me explain…
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Needless to say, we spent quite some interesting days in the city during the days after Hurricane Katrina. We mostly passed the time by standing on the roof of our flooded house, and using a boat that we had “liberated” from a nearby backyard to cruise around the neighborhood. So now, after living in New Orleans, and after staying in town during the hurricane, I get to go back and shoot an episode of No Reservations there…quite a coincidence, to say the least.

Speaking to Chris, ideas for possible restaurants and places to see are rapid firing through my head, “Ok…I got some ideas, this is gonna be great.” I then remember his earlier comment, “What makes this show different?” I ask. Chris says, “Tony wants to see how the city is recovering after Hurricane Katrina, most importantly, how the restaurants are coping with the storm and aftermath. The focus is on what Katrina did to the people and the industry.”

I am speechless…

Let me impress the gravity of that statement for all of you:

New Orleans is known all over the world for its culinary prowess. Hurricane Katrina is the worst natural disaster to hit the United States in modern times. And I spent a good deal of time walking around my flooded neighborhood in late August 2005 …this is going to be interesting.

After a few weeks of prep I am getting off a plane with the rest of the crew at Louis Armstrong Airport, just outside of New Orleans proper, and am immediately assaulted by a very familiar blast of humidity accompanied by a feeling of homesickness. I forget how hard it is for me to come back now. So many memories left behind after that storm, so many changes as well. As for the shoot, it was a busy week and we covered a ton of ground.

While filming in New Orleans, a few things were for sure: The food in this town still kicks ass…period. The crew and Tony can still roll out of bed at the crack of dawn, shoot four locations, and then end up at a bar until almost 2AM…and still get up for an early call the next day (multiple nights). And, most importantly, the city is on its way back, although changed forever. Everyone here has a Katrina story now, and in a town full of people who love to tell you a little bit about themselves, they all took some time to share with us some stories about that tragic time and the city they love. But if the stories we heard were quite different than what you would think…these people are not beaten down by what has happened, but focused, ready to keep pressing forward regardless of what has happened. They are looking to the future, to whatever it may hold. And these are the people we spent the week talking to and sharing meals with.

I won’t go into details about what we did or who you will be seeing in this episode (though I bet you will recognize a face or two besides Tony’s when you watch the show), but I will say this: As we called wrap and shut off the cameras, we were at a barbeque full of newfound friends that had shared their stories with us. On my plate was a mound of slow-cooked pig and homemade coleslaw, and as I dug my fork into it to gather a giant bite, I felt like we had done the city justice ... and for a brief moment, I felt like I was home again.

JA

Vancouver

2007-12-17T20:03:39Z

By Nari Kye

Sleep, the night before leaving for a shoot, is a lost battle. Every possible disaster scenario goes around and around in my head over and over again. Since this was my first official Associate Producer gig, I needed everything to go perfectly. I had to prove to Tony, Chris and rest of the crew I was a valuable asset. Releases, scenes, chefs, costs then the next thing I know, the alarm goes off and the day has come: shoot day 1.

]]> Sleep during the week varies drastically. The first night is the hardest. The whole shoot is still ahead and I’m in a new space far away from home albeit a luxurious and hip hotel. And already on day 2, I can tell the Vancouver show is going to be different and special. The city and its inhabitants are bursting with character. Even raining couldn’t get us down. Tojo, EA Sports, Uwe Boll, and Whistler/Blackcomb – one great shoot after another! And getting to explore a fun new place with Tony is pretty much the best job. I sleep every night looking forward to another day of exploring this amazing city.

Sleep, the final day of the shoot, is the best sleep ever. After celebrating with Tony, the crew, three of Vancouver’s finest chefs, and many new friends we picked up along the way, I hit that pillow with great relief, satisfaction and a big, big (heavily intoxicated) smile on my face.

99 PROBLEMS BUT A BRIT AIN'T ONE

2007-12-17T20:00:08Z

By Paul Cabana, Producer

DAY ONE

First time producer on Bourdain. looking forward to a cakewalk - what could go wrong? (1) Tony’s car to the airport an hour late. (2) he’s pissed. that surly intimidating TV persona? Not so much for TV. (3) Economy Plus should be renamed Business Minus. We’re sitting four across like we’re strapped on a roller coaster. The symbolism doesn’t escape me. (4) I switch seats with Todd who claims he has a phobia of middle seats. Note to self: watch out for The Todd. (5) We arrive in the UK and still haven’t confirmed our key scene, Marco Pierre White. (6) We’re testing new cameras on this shoot and find some big glitches: the big one is the focus ring. It’s way off. (9) Todd and Zach really annoyed. Not exactly a smooth start.

]]> DAY TWO

(10) We need B-roll that’s not too obvious and perfect. Need something dark. But everything looks like Harry Potter hooked up with a rainbow. (11) In case we end the show in Scotland, I need Tony to do an episode wrap to camera. So my first question, ever, to Tony has to be ‘what did you learn?’ from a trip he hasn’t had yet. Nice. (12) Still no word from Marco Pierre White. (13) I have to film Tony walking. He’s walking twice his normal speed and Zach and I are literally running after him. (14) Tony hates walking shots. (15) I gather this from when he says ‘I hate walking shots.’ (16-26) We have to film about ten more walking shots.

DAY THREE – IAN RANKIN

(27) Tony’s with his friend, Ian Rankin. We need to set up the bar, so we have them order a pint while they wait. (28) They need some beers for the scene. Let’s order pints. (29) lunch break, so they get a pint. (30) chip shop not ready. Let’s all get a pint. (31) B-roll break. get a pint. (32) need to wait for restaurant. pints. (33) wait for light. Pints. (34) Meal scene. They need beverages. Wine. (35) Finally. Time to film the key conversation. So why the f*%k are they slurring their words??

DAY FOUR - TRAIN SCENE

(35) Taking the train down to London. Zach realizes he left his passport in the hotel safe. We’re here for a few more days. They’ll just send it to us in London. No problem (36) great news from Marco. He’s letting us film us hunt… but there’s a catch. only one person/camera can go.

DAY FIVE - MEAT MARKET

(37) 3:30 am wake up call. (38) 4 a.m. at Smithfield market. I’m filming a butcher fondle a bucket of testicles. Which he may or may not be enjoying. Dreams really do come true. (39) 6 a.m. filming the butchers at the cock tavern and they’re covered with blood. Wait a second. That’s actually great. (40) they won’t let us into the kitchen to film. They say come back at 4. (41) I come back at 4. Still no luck. Screw it. (42) I’m filming B-roll of a telephone booth but there’s a guy in there who’s convinced I am recording his conversation which we can assume at this point is not so much legal. A police officer comes up. Time for the ‘ol standard tourist filming line. Because every tourist needs really good b-roll of a phone booth. (43) Send in The Zach for the hunting scene with Marco and Tony. Pray that they shoot a deer, have a great conversation and that everyone stays safe, in that order. (44) They come back, deer in tow. Tony shot his first deer and I find myself saying the phrase, “Todd, let’s get some carcass porn” (45) Filming dinner scene. It’s so dark we need 9 fat candles around the table. Now it looks like some sort of creepy Hannakuh.

DAY SIX – FERGUS AND PHIL

(46) Filming in St. John Bread & Wine and it couldn’t be louder. (47) Next up, filming in Jerry’s Bar and it couldn’t be darker. (48) Finally, filming in Soho with Phil Dirtbox and it couldn’t be more chaotic. But somehow, strangely, it’s all working out and the footage couldn’t be better.

DAY SEVEN - MORCHEEBA

(49) Last scene of the shoot. With the band, Morcheeba. Some of the nicest guys I’ve had the pleasure to work with. Tony is having a blast and it shows. We end up filming two fantastic scenes involving two songs… but I have absolutely no idea how we can use it all in the show. (50) Zach’s passport doesn’t arrive and he has to stay in London an extra day. (51) Why couldn’t Jay Z have written 51 Problems? Let’s just assume there were a bunch more and skip to… (99) We’ve just wrapped the UK show. My first, but I’m only halfway through. It’s right on to Athens for seven more days, and another show. One down. One to go. I’m sure I’ll have 99 more problems, but this Brit show, thank god, ain’t one.

Holiday Special

2007-12-17T19:58:38Z

By Rennik Soholt, Producer

Oh the Holiday Show…what an experience! I feel like it’s been December since the beginning of August. Let me see, let me see. Memories. I remember Tony wearing a bee outfit at Stone Barns, which was perfect. But this will only be seen by our international audiences. It’s definitely worth a look-see, if you can, though. Curling with Tony and Todd? PRICELESS. Todd is such a trouper. I’m starting to think he likes it when we take the camera out of his hand and hand him alcohol. When IS Toddles gonna have his own show, huh? Can you say, “spin off?” (But not like “Joey”…I mean, something good).

]]> It was actually so refreshing to be able to shoot a day and then to lay down that same night in my own bed in New York. Usually it’s day after day, hotel after hotel, bleary-eyed cup of coffee after intoxicating cup of local brew (or is it the other way around?). I don’t know. Usually I don’t know which way is up and we just go go go. This specific shoot was shot a day at a time…ok, we did spend a night in LA filming with Queens of the Stone Age in their recording studio/practice space. That was awesome! Get up before the sun. Jump on a plane. Fly across the country. Get car go directly to studio. Set up. Film rock and roll. Film more rock and roll. Drink excessively. Crash in LA hotel for a nap. Up at dawn. Fly back across the country. Fun as hell, but made my head spin. I’m originally from LA, but didn’t see anyone. Work work work. And then there was the “house shoot” which was 2 days in a row. Fun times in a hotel on the side of a freeway somewhere NOT in New York City. Those were two grueling days, but, like, sooooooo fun (I told you I was from LA). QOTSA were amazing! Can I repeat myself? Queens of the Stone Age were absolutely amazing!! They were all so professional, extremely creative and immensely patient. Josh, Troy, Joey, Michael, Dean: thank you so much! They CAME with those sweaters. We didn’t make them wear shit. Talk about team players! And when they were jamming outside the house…my god. First off, we threw Jingle Bells and Deck the Halls at them. Sung, done, no problem, fun. They even let us sprinkle fake snow in their hair! Then came the improvisation. Basically, each ACT of our show has a theme. So I would just give them the theme, give them a couple of adjectives, adverbs, lines that I was looking for, etc. Bam! They’d make up an absolutely hilarious song on the spot. It was amazing to witness. I know y’all think I’m just kissing their ass and I would be lying if I didn’t say that I was definitely a fan before we shot with them. We ALL are! But they really were the most professional, fun and into-it rock stars I have ever worked with. Seriously. I truly hope that I get the opportunity to work with them again. Hold on, I can feel it…we WILL! Happy F*#king Holidays!