Walking into the Bourdain office as a newcomer, was like being faced with a well-rehearsed double dutch jump rope act and told to join in. When I first started series producing this show in January of this year, the landscape was not totally foreign. I had been an editor on A Cook's Tour many years ago, so I was familiar with the original storytelling format, and I had met Tony once before. But this time, I was entering the production at a different capacity, I was to help oversee the series which was well into its fifth season. Every show runner position is different, and my job in this instance was to retrofit myself to the rhythm of what was already in place and hope that eventually, I could make a difference.

My first task was to wrangle all the material that was shot for the Special, Food Porn, into an entertaining TV hour. I recommended an editor (and friend) who worked on such sex-tinged shows as HBO's Katie Morgan on Sex Toys and Cathouse, The Pimpmaster General. When she just happened to be available, I thought the stars had aligned and this was meant to be. Well, it did work out, in a messy kind-of-way. After many long hours and angry, but loving, fistfights and hair-pulling temper tantrums with my editor, we managed to finish the show with no time to spare.

The next memorable rite of passage was to go on location and work with the crew and Tony. While there is nothing more I would rather be doing than produce, shoot and travel, I had sworn off field work 2 years ago so that I could focus on life at the homestead. Suffice it to say, nearly ten years of life on the road does not make for a balanced personal life. So it was with very mixed feelings that I joined the field team in Montana. The thing I remember most fondly, apart from the talents of the crew, is that the folks we met in Livingston were genuine, interesting, and down-to-earth....but I felt like my producer skills were a bit rusty and I was not altogether on top of my shooting game. Many months have since passed, and that part of the experience is all thankfully, behind me. From the very beginning, I had been told by my Exec. Producer, Lydia, that this was not your typical formatted series. I was like, huh, how can that be? Now I know better. When it comes to the details of the storytelling, it's like starting over with each new show.

Ok, well let's face it, the backbone of this particular job is getting to know your host and that would be Tony... getting to know his likes and dislikes, and making sure we're creatively in synch. When we first started working together back in January, he wouldn't give me eye contact when we talked. I thought, he doesn't like me, hell, he doesn't even remember me, even though he assured me that he did. We have nothing in common... I hardly drink, I was vegetarian at one point, and I do things like yoga and lemon cleanses. This does not bode well, I thought. Well since those early days, there seems to exist a copacetic working relationship. There are some things I've come to expect, along the way. I wouldn't say I know his mind, but I do know that I can never anticipate his reactions, no one seems to be able to master that, not even the ABNR veterans. And so now when I get an occasional not-so-pleasant email, I don't let it get to me. I take them as, just his no-nonsense way of making sure the series remains top-notch, and an initiation-of-sorts into the ABNR family fold. -- A recipient of uncensored Bourdain emails?...that must mean I'm in!

These days, I think I've got the double dutch act down. Season 5 has ended and we were within budget, we didn't miss an airdate, and the network execs seem happy with the ratings, which means the fans are still tuning in. Season 6 is already well underway...and the jump ropes continue to circle round and round, like the hands of a clock. Is it due to momentum, inertia, or Tony's enthusiastic slew of crack-the-whip emails, I don't know.... But lest I think I can become creatively complacent in this job, I know better. I've found that on No Reservations, there is room to evolve, experiment with, and yes, even subvert the creative process, like no other. So do I feel like I trip every once in awhile along the way, yes....do I start over and pick up again to try something new, sure. But I'm realizing that it's ok. This is par for the course when it comes to working with Tony, and I've learned to love it.

The helicopter was small...very small...and shaking. No bouncing, really. It was bouncing up and down, up and down. My teeth were rattling. Todd and Zach were sitting next to me, filming Tony in the front seat. With one large coastal updraft, Todd flew up in the air, slow-motion, "Todd-ass" blurring my vision...he landed on my lap. I bit my tongue. Todd farted. I puked in my mouth. It was 6am.

It was pouring rain and windy...our first bad weather day our whole shoot in Chile and here is Tony, Zach, Todd and myself trying to helicopter to our shooting location in this shit weather. Was this a good idea?

"Oh, no problem!" says Mr. Helicopter man. "If it's bad, we just come down."

"No problem," Tony concurs, totally nonchalantly. Um, ok fine. No problem. But what does, "we just come down" mean, Tony? Keep in mind, Tony is wearing a pine-green, rain poncho and smiling. It's weird. REALLY weird. It's early. I didn't see Tony have coffee. It's pouring and we're about to helicopter to an island and "work" all day. This isn't usually "Tony-smiling" time. He started to give me promos ("Catch it!") and I wasn't even asking...IN THE RAIN! This was NOT going to be a normal day.

So where was I? Oh yeah, I puked in my mouth. I pushed Todd over to his seat. "Film Tony. Film Tony!" I yell over the sound of the propeller, the wind, the chaos. We start circling around the islands, just off land...over the Pacific. I can't really tell if the "circling" is intentional or not. It feels slightly "out-of-control" which can be a good thing...when not in a helicopter over the ocean in Chile! Mr. Helicopter Man points over the horizon.

"It doesn't look good!" yells Tony as we all see over the horizon the darkest, most ominous, hurricane-like front that you've ever seen...from a helicopter. I guess this is the time "we just come down." But, like, um...where, Mr. Helicopter Man? We're over the raging Pacific with jagged f**** rocks below us?!!

But, lucky for us, we land in a clearing. Safe. No helicopter today. The rest of our crew, 3 hours away by land, are waiting for us...on a boat...ready to go to an island to film. I'm on the phone with my segment producer, Emily. She is NOT happy. We have a full act to shoot today. WHAT DO WE DO?

Well, Tony still has this shit-eating grin on his face, soaked, in that f***** green poncho. "I guess we'll have to go back to the hotel and have some breakfast?" he says...totally innocent looking. I'm starting to think he's controlling more than the show content here at this point. I really don't know what to do. Tomorrow we are flying back to the States. I don't have a full show!

So hotel...coffee, fire. Tony tells me "Rennik, don't worry. It's all GOING TO BE FINE." My crew are wet and distraught. The weather is awful. It doesn't feel like it's going to be "fine." I decide to call the bosses...see if we can salvage something.

OK. I dial the States...voicemail of the executive producer on the line. "Hello, you've reached (BLANK), please leave a message..."

Tony gets up and says "Well Rennik, I think I'm going to get a massage...tell me what we're doing next...but give me a few hours, k? I'm tired." I watch him walk away in fuzzy hotel slippers.

I'm startled by the "Beeeeeeeeeeeeep...." I hear on the other end of the line. My mouth drops to the floor. Silence. What do I say?

Oh shit...I knew it wasn't going to be a "normal" day...

Zero Point Zero Production. We are a tight knit crew, a beautifully functioning dysfunctional family even, and I am among the lucky few to have slipped through the cracks and found this home. As a newcomer to the ZPZ crew, I've quickly learned that when shit needs to get done around here, you just do it. When two cameras went down in Panama the other week, Unit Manager Dan flew out with two working cameras only to fly back to NY the next day. When your show gets nominated for Emmys and your boss asks you to order 12 bottles of bubbly, you don't ask questions, you just do it.

Or...like, now, for instance- I'm writing this entry not only because I love this job and would like to cherish its blog-worthy experiences but also because Travel requires it as one of many such things called "deliverables." I am fortunate that my job description as a production assistant here at ZPZ is pretty loose. The face of my work week changes day-to-day and could look like anything ranging from: sending delectable transcripts, logs, releases or other "deliverables" to Travel Channel on a Monday, rounding out the week accompanying producers on shoots to restaurants I can't afford, to coming in on a Sunday to shoot Adam, our graphics guy, in a skin tight full suit unitard with attached ping pong balls.

For this special episode Burning Questions, producer Rennik Soholt asked me to assist him in casting, finding locations, props, and other general production endeavors. Rennik hands me a piece of paper and I look down and take a quick glance. It is the list of scenes that need to get shot for this episode. However, at the top, in parenthesis, is a note from Rennik reassuring that these are all indeed from Tony, not a joke on the newbie, and not just his own imagination running wild. With a curiously mischievous look on his face, he walks back to his desk letting me know to ask if I have any questions.

I look back at the sheet and go through the items one by one. Let's see: An insane looking little boy...a Pet store with exotic animals...a deranged stalker...three dead prostitutes...a rodeo clown with a bong...fan mail...security guards with uniforms and their own weapons...black nail polish...wig...skull rings...stick to poke animals.......do I have any questions?

Okay, first order of business is to find a pet store with exotic animals. It's place of priority is only so I can get it over with, as I'm pretending I don't actually turn into a 11-year-old girl in the presence of snakes, not because this is any more important than dead prostitutes or deranged stalkers, obviously... After many phone calls and a few trips to pet stores around the city, one of which included an interesting encounter with an employee who introduced himself as "Smack" and asked if I were looking for illegal monkeys, I ventured off into the exotic land of Yonkers to find animals more interesting than city cat-rats, where I met the kind folks at the Exotic Pet Warehouse who eventually gave us permission to shoot there. Progress.

Next up: Fan mail. To protect the hardcore ABNR fans of their privacy, we could not show any of the real fan mail Tony actually receives. And since you can't really do a fan show without any fan mail, this, of course, led to a couple of days of full TB fan immersion. Back at the office, our production coordinator Annie, myself and a team of interns found ourselves surrounded in a pool of colorful envelopes, psycho chicken scratch, writing and drawing creepy letters and pictures to Tony. Which, I guess we can say we did a decent job at since when it came time for Tony to read all of them, he asked how we'd gotten into his mail and made it a point to say how he thought it'd be a good idea to push for employee review....

There were still many more people and things yet to find and with our non-existent budget, it was lucky for me, and to my surprise, that there were plenty of actresses who not only were available to play dead prostitutes but willing and excited to play free, unpaid, dead prostitutes (and were also confident that they would be able to provide their own wardrobe...) and this is even after I explained to them that they would not be moving, just straight acting dead on a mattress or sitting lifeless in a chair... I don't know if that says more about Tony or our economy...

With our morning coffees in hand, we pile into the production van and go over the schedule for the day. In the a.m. we shoot at the exotic pet warehouse with our "insane looking" boy and the afternoon we are set to shoot in a seedy basement in Brooklyn decorated with a rodeo clown holding a bong in a wheelchair, a bare mattress and three dead prostitutes. As Annie cuts a wig on Rennik's head, we remind ourselves to not mention the prossies around the kid. Tomorrow is the stalker scene and Tony just added that he would like to get a shot of the stalker wrapped in rugs and the disposal of the body in a garbage dump on the street. He's thinking maybe, a little blood splatter in the elevators for dramatic effect. Not sure it'll fly with the networks but we'll find out later.

Don't want to ruin the magic and spoil all the fun as these few moments capture what only makes up small portions, set ups or interstitials of the show, but I hope that this episode allows for a bit of the antics, the sometimes bizarre but always interesting behind-the-scenes of ABNR.

I guess, I better start looking for rugs and blood now...

1. INTERIOR MOHAMMED'S EATERY, COLOMBO, SRI LANKA - DAY

One of the many eating houses in the Pettah, Colombo's main marketplace, provides the backdrop for mine and Tony's first Sri Lankan meal, a hearty breakfast of String Hoppers (steamed rice noodles); paripoo, or red lentils stewed in coconut milk; pol sambol, a spicy condiment of fresh shredded coconut laced with lime juice, salt and chili powder; chili fish curry, potato curry and sour fish curry. We have just slogged our way through the crowded and chaotic central fish market around the corner, and I, having prudently bypassed the lavish breakfast buffet at the stately Galle Face Hotel, our home away from home this week, have worked up a healthy appetite that neither the oppressive heat nor the condensed-milk tea we're sipping can kill.

Roll Cameras

In an instant the table is covered with a colorful, edible tapestry-the yellow-tinged potato curry, shaded with turmeric, contrasting against fiery red fish gravy and orange coconut sambol, black sour fish and white rice noodle nests. I waste no time, quickly using up all real estate on my plate, but when I peek at Tony's, it's looking pretty zen. As a fan of the show, my mind's eye flashes back to an episode like Montreal, where Bourdain was practically mainlining foie gras as the mischievous chef sent him a flurry of rich main courses, which Tony scooped down his pie-hole like a trooper. Was this the same Tony Bourdain, Mouth Almighty, The Walking Stomach, King of Street Food? Or did they cheat on TV, and just make it look like he eats a lot? That's certainly not what the producers told me when I signed on. Worse yet: What if he doesn't like the food? I considered it an honor and a pleasure to introduce a serious eater like Tony to the cuisine of my homeland, and if he just didn't dig it, I would have felt really bad. These thoughts were the subtext as we spoke casually about the meal for the cameras. Afterwards I asked him:

SKIZ

Tony, so how you feeling, man? Everything cool?

TONY

Yeah, man. But I've had this thing since before we left New York.

Some kind of bug or something.

SKIZ

Oh, no. For real?

TONY

Of course, it didn't help that the lady in the next seat was coughing all over me all the way from Kuwait City. But yeah, I can't seem to keep anything down.

It suddenly dawned on me that even a job as perfect as his-to travel the world and sample her exotic delights-had its own pitfalls. What if you were hot and jetlagged and afflicted with a serious head cold that impeded your olfactory senses? What if you were so sick you couldn't even keep any food down? What if you just didn't feel like eating and had to plow through three or four heavy meals in a day? Things to think about when you eat for a living. Nevertheless, this was a food and travel show, and with only six days of shooting, the show must go on.

Thankfully, it did, without a hitch. After Tony's stomach settled down, and we plied him with a few alcoholic beverages for good measure, the man I knew from the TV screen returned in fine form. Not only that, but he genuinely enjoyed each successive meal more than the one before it. In fact, I noticed that the whole crew-Producer Tom, Segment Producer Jared, and Jerry and Todd, the cameramen -- all loaded up on the Sri Lankan specialties every morning at the breakfast buffet, not to mention scarfing down all the food that Tony and I ate on camera, as well. And these guys can take the heat from all the chili-laden dishes, which I've never seen gringos handle so well. Of course, Tony gets extra points for making it through those first few meals, which probably went straight through him.

For more about the "No Reservations" Sri Lanka trip, check out my own blog at Riceandcurry.wordpress.com.

It is the night of our arrival in Manila, and usually on the day we arrive and before we begin principal photography, I spend my first few hours meeting with our fixer to discuss any changes or adjustments to our shooting schedule.

After that, I reach out to tomorrow's locations to touch base and remind them of the times that we are coming to film with them.

Finally, I head up to my hotel room and make sure the mini-fridge in my hotel room is functioning properly by testing the coldness of a beer before I go to sleep. It sometimes takes two beers to be certain, but up to this point I have not found a broken mini-fridge.

That is a normal arrival day.

My first night in the Philippines is not a normal arrival day.

It's nearing midnight, and I am riding in an ordinary looking white van through the hectic streets of Metro Manila. There are people everywhere I look, all doing their usual night time routine ...the city feels alive with energy, and it is all moving past me in a blur as I scan the storefronts of the many bodegas that line the crowded sidewalks. I am looking for something vital for our upcoming shoot days. Something that, quite frankly, we need badly seeing as the temperature here doesn't seem to ever go below eighty degrees and it's humid.

I am on a desperate mission to find a drugstore that is open at this late hour to buy some deodorant.

Yep ...that's right. Deodorant.

We (the crew) are in desperate need of toiletries, and I am trying to find the one item that quite possibly has changed the face of the modern world. I keep reminding myself it is a noble quest as we pass more and more closed drugstores. Reminding myself to keep my eye on the prize.

Why, you may ask, is there such an urgent need for this solo excursion into the streets of Manila at this time of night after nearly 20 hours of flying with so many other things to do before cameras go live tomorrow morning?

I will explain -

As any traveler knows, there are apt to be some hiccups in the great world of trains, planes, and automobiles. Mostly those hiccups take place on the planes ...not so much in the air, but the process of getting them in the air on time. Delays, cancellations and missed connections ...these things happen - and since the travel situation on this show is more akin to "planes, planes, and more planes" it is surprising that things do not go awry more often.

We hit a triple hiccup (delayed, cancelled, missed connection) on the way to the Philippines, and as to not bore you with the exact airport logistics, I will simply say that it was not our day at JFK. Certain things occurred at the airport that caused us to arrive in Manila 12 hours later than planned, and with only our carry-on luggage and three cameras.

No personal checked bags (Including toiletries, socks, underwear, outerwear).

No additional film equipment (Including many items that are vital for our shoot, items that are hard to replace while on the road).

And most disturbing, perhaps...

No way to tell when any of it would arrive (Including me figuring out how to purchase everything we may need to properly shoot this show. It's a long list without having to buy us all clothes for the week. So now it's a longer list).

Granted, we always carry-on the cameras and sound kits for our shoots, so we have what we need to start filming the episode tomorrow morning, but no matter how much you rub a Sony-V1U on your underarm you wont get all day wetness protection coupled with a pleasant scent.

You will most likely get a rash, almost definitely have someone give you a nervous glance and quite possibly be arrested.

It is close to midnight when I find some, and I feel about ten pounds lighter as I hop back into the van to head back to the hotel to start my usual arrival day work.

--

Our missing bags arrive at the hotel the next morning, and I end up leaving five travel sticks of varying brands of deodorant behind on my hotel sink when I leave Manila at the end of the shoot.

The housekeeping crew must have thought I was a little strange.

JA

Tony's driving our big black Caddy, skimming the Ike, just south of downtown Chicago. I'm lying down in the backseat, deliberately in hiding. Trying to act like it's cool. Like it's totally not uncomfortable. In every sense of the word. You must know, faithful Bourdain Crew Blog Reader, how Tony doesn't like doing the walking shots? Well apparently he doesn't like repetitious driving shots either, as evidenced by his increasingly road-rage-alicious maneuvers. Oh, and the occasional explosive swearing was a little hint, too. As I'm trying to multitask on my new iPhone, navigating prone and linked with the crew van, I'm so glad they're yukking it up over there. I can hear Chris, Diane, Alex, Kira, Erik and even my brother William, whom I recruited to drive, practically singing "99 Bottles of Beer on the Wall." By the way, Chris, when you told me to duck down to get out of the shot and I dropped down to the right, I heard you say, "I wish she would have leaned the other way!" Ha. Ha. Meanwhile I desperately cling to the fine leather upholstery, trying not to get flung hard to the floor. At least I'm grateful for all the time I spent on a Deadliest Catch-esque fishing boat this summer curing myself of motion sickness.

And at that moment my skin felt electrified. It was a position you would have killed to be in - as weird as it was. I didn't want to be anywhere else. Doing anything else. With anyone else. Thanks to Tony, Chris, Lydia, Diane and the entire "No Reservations" crew - my dear, extended, endlessly entertaining dysfunctional family - I have been allowed to live an adventurous food life far beyond what I deserve.

Three weeks ago, as of this blogging, we wrapped the long-awaited Chicago shoot. Tony mentions it briefly in his recent blog post about the upcoming Season 5. He writes, "Our Chicago show was filmed in a state of full-on hero worship, as I've been long besotted by Michael Mann's Chicago-based film, 'Thief.'" By the way, that film is beyond noir - the story is black-hole black - and to play amateur forensic psychologist, wow an insight into Tony's psyche, I think - but incredibly beautiful to watch.

I again worked as a fixer. I hold the distinction of being the first ever "No Reservations" fixer. Remember me in the meat market scene in Paris? And what is a fixer, you ask? In the job description it's a local translator and guide. For Tony fans, you'll understand when I say I was the Zamir.

So this summer I was cooking away for the Alaskan fishing boat and lodge and I got the call from Lydia. Chicago's on. In a month. And to paraphrase another film - film nerds that we are - it was an offer I could not refuse. Chicago is my hometown, and I have been waiting for nearly four years for the show to come to my town. Yes, of course we went to Hot Doug's, home to the infamous, once-illegal foie gras hot dog and duck-fat-fried fries - still served Fridays and Saturdays only.

And yes, we had pizza, but probably not anywhere you would think. We went to my beloved Burt's in the occasionally Twin Peaks-ish suburb of Morton Grove. The inimitable Burt and his gorgeous caramelized crust were featured on the cover of Saveur's Chicago issue last year.

But no beef. Yes, fellow Chicagoans, you heard me. No Italian beef. Why? Because as you know, we have an embarrassment of food riches. And we did the Mother-in-Law instead. You've never had the South Side specialty of a Chicago-style tamale smothered in chili, garnished with onions and sport peppers, wrapped in a warm poppy-seed bun? Well ya see, there's more to Chicago than just dogs, pizza and beef.

But we did have beef. And as my hair stylist Daniel dubbed them, Beef Daddies: Tony and Very Special Guest, Eric Ripert. I found myself with Tony and Eric (Freakin') Ripert at L20 nestled into our own private tatami room. I fully expect to be cut out of that scene, like the end person in a wedding party pic.

And speaking of beef, I called it at the Wagyu. L20's Chef/Partner Laurent Gras, an old friend of both Tony and Eric's, even had the audacity to send out the muzzle-printed certificate of authenticity. I mean come on now, Laurent - did you really need to flop that out? It was more than enough that each bite of that beef was like the crispy charred bit of fat that you steal off a steak even when it's too hot because it's that good. Every single bite of that entire deathbed-memorable meal was all that good. But I could only take two bites of the Wagyu- one wocka-wocka food porn one for the camera and the other one purely for my own gratuitous pleasure. As for the rest, when our kimono-clad server came to take our plates, I asked her to take mine over to producers Alex and Diane in the tatami room next door. Camerapeople Kira and Erik would have to wait until our conversation wandered into Not Safe For the New York Food Media Mafia territory and Tony told them point blank, "Don't shoot this." Poor Exec Producer Chris was shooting in the kitchen, Steak Outta Luck.

At the end of the night I drove the Caddy home. Tony slurred, "How is it that you're in better shape than we are?" Silly boy. Raiders of the Lost Ark? The shot glass scene? I switched from the endless rare, vintage bottles of sake to H20 early in the night.

With the Beef Daddies comfortably slumped in their seats, I knew again, I didn't want to be anywhere else.

I have made thirty-something episodes with Anthony Bourdain. Needless to say, our crew has spent a lot of time over the last four years getting lost in the world together.

Mostly my producing job is to schedule a good show and to gently encourage Tony to see the brighter sides of really horrifically BAD situations....scenes gone wrong...situations you wouldn't wish on your worst enemy-- like the, "Birth of the Nacho" scene, in the Mexico show (lets just say it involved canned olives, some sort of gelatinous Cheese Whiz and eventually a nacho related injury); and on a darker note, being in the wrong place at the wrong time...episodes like Beirut...

After five seasons of ABNR I've learned to TRY and avoid mistakes as such. And if there is one type of show I know I can count on, it's an ITALY show. I can always be sure, if we are going ANYWHERE IN ITALY, and eating ANYTHING ITALIAN, Tony is going to be excited about it.

In fact we could be holed up at an Autogrill gas station 1,000 miles from a decent hotel and Tony would still have a constant flow of golden sound bites flowing from his mouth. The entire crew could be deep in the collective throes of a zombie-like epileptic seizure and Tony would still make a damn good show out of it. He'd make the BEST show out of it. In post he'd say..."Ok, guys, it's not the show we set out to make, but throw in a little Dario Argento music and go in close on the Tagliatelle!"

So, when the mother ship calls and says, "fly to VENICE"....I'm feeling like the luckiest producer on Earth.

For the Venice show Tony had instructed the crew to catch up on a few of the classics, like, Don't Look Now and The Comfort of Strangers, films which evoke an unseen side of Venice, a darker side. As a producer, it's always a blast to emulate the narrative or visual style of a director or artistic work. So, I thought "great ...let's rent that Steadicam this time! Get out those 12k lights! I need dollies, cranes, generators, trailers, CRAFT SERVICE for chrissakes! LET'S MAKE A FILM!" And then there is reality. The reality of making art from what we have, which isn't much, but is actually quite a lot.

It's midnight, we've been shooting for 12 hours, Tony had two large meals today and now I've got to inspire the crew to figure out how we can shoot a bunch of night stuff with two flashlights, a luggage cart, and a tired host. Plus, as usual, I've storyboarded 15 shots and I have MAYBE 1 hour to pull this off. Cart assembled, Zach hops on with the camera, Nari, who equals half the size of the luggage cart, volunteers her Sherpa skills and Todd rigs lights to historic Palazzos with masking tape. For the next 45 minutes we race through the eerie back alleys of Venice like a student film on speed.

The footage turns out beautiful. It's always in back alleys, somewhere lost in the universe, where you realize how wonderful it is to collaborate with a great team.

As the newbie on the crew I knew that it would take some time to gain Anthony Bourdain's respect. No Reservations is entering it's fifth season and the man has met and worked with countless different people … and like every job that involves being accepted as "part of the team" (and no, there is no I in team) you have to earn your medal of honor, you have to gain your place in the ranks.

After my first shoot in Chicago, which had gone very well thanks to the guiding hand of Chris - my boss and long time Tony friend - Mexico was next. My second shoot, with veterans who between them have racked up well over 40 episodes. I was going to have to step it up somehow. I had heard through the grapevine that it may take a while for Tony to look me in the eye. This was true, but it did eventually happen ... So how, and when, would I make it to the next level? Beyond eye contact to perhaps a conversation or even a shared joke or two…? What would I have to do to gain his respect, and be able to call myself a member of the No Reservations crew and really mean it?

It happened on a dark street corner in Puebla around 8pm local time … After a long day shooting with our friend Carlos and several of his family members, we all stopped for tacos at his favorite roadside stand. There were several different choices of meat, including tripe, tongue and sausage. Everyone it seemed was waiting for the chorizo… As 12 hungry people clamored for the same taco varietal, it happened. She said it softly at first and I thought no one had heard her. "Ojo?" That's eye right? She took the tongs and sure enough an eye appeared from the boiling pot of meat. I was starving… I saw my opportunity and took it. From my place at the back of the hungry group I fearlessly raised my hand. "Uno de ojo por favor".

And that was the moment I gained Bourdain's respect. From my left I heard him: "Wow, that's really impressive…" And then as the rest of the crew slapped me on the back and told me how impressed THEY were with my order another comment: "Somebody raised you right". Puffed up with pride, I hungrily ate my eye taco (the only one of our crew to do so I might add) knowing that something had changed and that hopefully Tony (as I now like to call him) and I would go on to have a beautiful working relationship … Thanks Mum and Dad for raising me right. And if you ever have the option - go for the eye. It was quite delicious.

He moved through the office to another impromptu meeting with other producers and editors. They were discussing the Labor Day show, a barbecue-tastic, beef-topia in Connecticut the next day. Oh, how I wished to be there among the smells, the pool, the friendly sun. I secretly imagined a petting zoo, rounds of doing the Hokey-Pokey, a performance by the Cramps, and trust falls. And rainbows, made of cake.

As I approached Tom to tell him how much I'd enjoyed my sandwich, I overheard Tony. "We need a Ukulele, and Hawaiian Shirts. Say Adam, you're about the coolest guy ever, do you possess these items?"

Well, it was something like that. It came up that I play the uke (I play depression era folk music) and that I have a small collection of genuine, 70's polyester Hawaiian shirts (I went to high school on Maui). And just like my ex-best friend's honeymoon, I'd snuck my ass onto another trip.

You know that last scene in Boogie Nights, when the characters have gone through hell or worse and they're all back together, a big family, forgetting the challenges and digging the unity at the pool with the grill flaming? Well, replace the smut with a lot of equally talented people organizing over a dozen miniature businesses a year (every episode really is a little company). This shoot was a celebration of all those fully mind-destroying, relatively Olympian feats that shows can turn often out to be (bear in mind that Big-Tony B is on ALL of them). It all works because everybody is good at what they do and everybody loves it. Well, one guy didn't like it. Tony made us eat him in a lemon-wine sauce ...

We all helped with food, setting up, holding reflectors, building up mics and jumping in the bouncy castle. I think Nari was in charge of drinking. I went to the workshop to saw and hammer some tracking targets together for a retrospective shot for the "Tony's many eccentric acquaintances" segment. Then we grilled. After Tony cooked about infinity-pounds of meat for an hour, he deserved a damn break. Naturally, he turned to the nearest person and handed me the spatula (I was closer than the table). Of course, though, he was a gent. I learned that when the burger puffs a little, it's done. Also, I learned that I come from a family that slightly overcooks food. And at the very, very end, I learned you can give a man a burger or you can teach him to grill. That, my friends, is a trust fall worth two in the bush.

"You can't shoot THAT!" says our government minder.

"What?" I ask, through my phone.

With a dirty-toothed smile, "That, um, food cart. There are many places that are much nicer. Wouldn't you rather shoot there?"

"Where?" I ask with a pleasant, but deeply evil smile on my face, knowing this game like the back of my hand.

"Um" the minder sputters "anywhere but HERE. I was told..."

My mind starts wandering to other essentials as I look at the obviously fearful look on my poor, ABNR-virgin, cameraman's face. I squint, look bored, half smile and reassuredly, but ever-so-slightly, nod. Wink to Tracey. Street scene on. Ba-bang.

"You know ___________, I need to go to the toilet. Can you help me?" I ask earnestly while doing the "little-boy-leg-shifting-pee-pee-dance."

"Yes, right this way. I can help you," he says with the authority of a bureaucrat who actually means what he is saying, but doesn't get to say it very often.

We're off. Down an alley. Thru a gate. Large door. Man in uniform. Arabic spoken. Nods all around. Down a hall. Thru another door. Smell of excrement. Bingo. Government minder waits outside.

Now remember, I still have a phone stuck to my face. It's been there for days...l.i.t.e.r.a.l.l.y. Thank god for international cells. Tracey and I came to Egypt 3 days early to scout. Crew coming in on different days from different locations. Potential logistical hell. The pollution here makes Athens or Mexico City feel like clean oases of Swiss modernity. The noise of Cairo is literally as loud as "being 10 feet from a freight train." I read that somewhere. No joke. Government bureaucrat hell. Permits. You have them, don't worry. Well, you might have them by next week. "Next week" I yell. "We're shooting tomorrow." Well, you can shoot the pyramids. Ummm, actually, no you can't shoot the pyramids. "Forget the pyramids, can we shoot in the streets of Cairo?" You can't shoot ANYthing on the street. We know of some nice restaurants you would LOVE to shoot in, though. The Hilton has a great "Middle Eastern-style" restaurant with dancing and traditional music. Very clean. Tourists go there. You'll feel safe. You will LOVE it! Ahhhhhhhhh!

So I'm on the phone with the network, with Tony, with our Executive Producers, with the Egyptian government, with the airline, with customs officers, with the US government, with my mom ("help!"). I keep switching calls to our "fixers" when the Arabic becomes, well, irreplaceable with English. But I have to transfer the call. I can't hand mine over ... cause it's stuck to my F***ING face!

Thank god our fixers have phones. So from within the stall, I text, "SHOOT the scene. Shoot the scene!" And then, I take my time. I pretend I'm going #2, which requires more time in a world without toilet seats or toilet paper.

Just another day on ABNR ...

The Beginning:
Join Tony to film a show in Uruguay? How quickly could I say "yes"? The plan was for a February trip -- summer in Uruguay. A no-brainer! February rolls around, and here I am, winging my way to Montevideo with my itinerant brother and his entourage of four from "No Reservations". Oh yeah -- it seems I am viewed as part of "the talent," so I get to fly in business class with Tony. It's good to be the king! Arrival in Montevideo is slightly delayed by the local customs chap inviting us to his office in back to share with us the benefit of his knowledge and experience dealing with thousands of dollars worth of camera equipment. After an extra hour of pointless discussion and waiting, we are met by our local "fixers" Sofia and Cecilia, and our van driver, Anibal. Our hotel, the Victoria Plaza, is apparently the place to stay in Montevideo, and indeed we see limos pulling up with various foreign diplomat and zillionaire types. Interestingly, I learned pre-trip that this hotel is actually owned by Rev. Sun Myung Moon's Unification Church, which has made a number of substantial and secretive investments in Uruguay.

The Archives:
The ostensible reason I am along on this show is for "genealogical research," the "family connection" thing. As young children we always had thought that the French part of the family washed up on this side of the Atlantic during World War I. But one summer when we went over to France to clean out our deceased great-aunt's house, we discovered a trove of yellowed documents alluding to several generations of Bourdains in Uruguay and a nearby border town in Brazil. But other than a fleeting reference citing our great-great-grandfather Jean Bourdain as a "merchant" in Montevideo, we have never known why these people ended up in Uruguay, what they were doing, or why all remaining Bourdains on the continent returned to France after 1860. Who knows what these guys could have been getting into?

The Antique Car:
I am not sure what the premise is behind Tony picking me up in the wonderful antique car (which I am told is the very same one used in the "Miami Vice" movie). But driving around in this thing is fun ... What TV viewers don't see is Max and Sofia crammed down in the back seat for the entire weavy ride around old Montevideo. If they were height-challenged people, their forced embrace might be peculiarly romantic. But this looks more like a painful knee in groin/elbows in breasts story going on back there.

The Chivito:
The brief summary: Chivitos are a local favorite, a Uruguayan mega-sandwich equivalent of Wendy's "Grand Slam." It has everything you could imagine on it - sliced beef, bacon, ham, cheese, egg, mayonnaise, olives, pepper sauce on a big roll. Absurdly huge and impossible to eat neatly, it's about the best sandwich I've ever had. Tony and I nail these down. Plus beer. I enter into food coma.

Phone Call:
At a huge Brooklyn-size cattle ranch, an estancia, we are riding around in our host's Jeep in search of the ostrich-like "ñandu" when my cell phone rings. How is this possible? We are miles from any town or cell phone tower! I pick up... and hear the taped message: My kids' school is closed tomorrow due to snow. I'm soooooo happy to be here. Our hosts are fun and interesting people. There is nice wine here. I'm going to try armadillo. The sight of the armadillo trembling upsets several of us in attendance. I am personally very glad the assisting gauchos take the thing away to bring him into his next state of existence. And yes, it actually does taste like chicken!

Cabo Polonia:
This point of land at the angle of two long and unspoiled strips of beach is fantastically beautiful. It is an "ends of the Earth" type place where a 1960's/70's-style hippie commune has survived. It's gorgeous here and I enjoy our visit, but somehow I'm also finding this place a bit depressing. The blind bartender with his little penguin friend crapping on the floor near the bar ...this is getting kind of strange. Still -- I guess I'd rather see Cabo Polonia stay this way than be just another enclave for the rich.

Jose Ignacio:
The Punta del Este Resort area where the Rio de la Plata meets the Atlantic is a mix of communities. The most famous areas draw the Uruguayan and Argentine versions of the Rodeo Drive crowd, a super-glam caste of people, some replete with Botox and implants. Up the road from the "Punta," Jose Ignacio is a more mellow, low-key satellite community, with unpretentious sun-bleached buildings -- more Fire Island than Hamptons. Our visit to the restaurant "La Huella" is maybe my favorite time on the whole trip. The restaurant is right on the beach and I can feel sand in my toes. The weather is great, and I'm totally relaxed and in the mood for the mojito and good food I know are coming. I'm looking forward to chilling with Tony, eating good food by the sound of the waves, and relaxing.

Having a Famous Brother:
What is it like having a famous brother? I admit, it is sometimes strange. That's my brother all over bus stops! And sometimes in in-flight magazines when I go on business trips. I gather in Singapore and nearby, Tony has rock-star status. But Tony's always been a brilliant verbalist with a buzz-saw sense of humor, so I've never been surprised that some with money and connections finally figured this part out. When I see him on TV, I'm just like many fans who don't know him: I enjoy the travel to places I can only dream of going, laughing at his hilariously-expressed but bang-on social and cultural observations and his self-deprecating humor. I am proud of Tony and consider myself his biggest fan. But I get sooooo tired of people asking me, "Chris, where's your brother now?" "What's your brother eating now?" Yada, yada, yada ... Shut up!

Uruguay:
I love Uruguay and will miss it. I want to come back some day. I dislike pretension. Uruguay is delightful because it is so not pretentious. People have lots of space and are relaxed. They take pleasure in the small enjoyments of life the way one sees in areas around the Mediterranean in Europe. Food and wine are good, plentiful, and inexpensive -- at least for visiting Americans. The clothes in shop windows in the center of the capital are generally very un-chic, almost old-fashioned. I do not see a single McDonalds, Pizza Hut, Starbucks, Dunkin Donuts, or other similar chain.

And I like it that way.

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.
Here's the math: say you have a shoot day with two locations. Once you include travel, lighting, set up and breaks, a 10-hour crew day is more like 4, so two hours filming per location. A scene is broken up into different beats. In No Reservations, a scene might include establishers, walk & talk, meal prep, meal and conversation, say 20 minutes per beat. In a travelogue show like No Reservations, where Tony's voiced-over thoughts thread the whole show, 90% of what you need to film is process or non-sync -- basically, people not talking. That said, on a hosted show, you absolutely need the host talking a little bit to camera, directly to the viewer. So tallying it up, sometimes you have a couple minutes or less to get that done. In those stressful moments, sometimes you just have to tell someone exactly what to say.

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.

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?

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

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.

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 explainTurns out that I happened to be living in New Orleans as Hurricane Katrina was making its way towards land, and a few of my friends and I decided to have a hurricane party instead of doing what 95% of the population of the city chose to do (grab all they could and get the hell out) before the storm made landfall.

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

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).I have been working with Tony now for close to 3 years and this was the first time I worked domestically. 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!