It's a foggy morning in the near-perfect village situated by the sea in central Vietnam known as Hoi An. I am standing in a rice paddy and my New Balance sneakers are covered in brown clay from the saturated ground. Staring off into the distance, I notice Todd shooting b-roll.

My socks are wet, but I don't notice because of the view - it is one of complete calm, with green growth, grey water and paddies stretching out for what seems like miles in each direction ...an open playing field of agriculture at its most base. In my view, there are three women in conical hats slowly pulling at the stalks with the country's most prevalent foodstuff at their ends - it is a delicate process, compounded to almost an art as the women's hands move with uncanny deftness, repeating the same process that most likely has been done by them for many years.

In the center of an adjacent paddy there is a water buffalo pulling a plow with a farmer on its back. The beast is looking downright joyous, dragging its heavy load behind it, taking time to lower its snout into the gray water below and then splashing to the left and right while plodding down a line of rice grass. I am nearly mesmerized by this, as the massive animal reaches the end of a line of green, it turns completely around and begins the process on another endless string of rice plants.

I am surrounded by tradition - The tradition of the rice pickers in the field, the tradition of the farmer riding his plow and the tradition of the buffalo doing its daily walk. This is all common ground for them ...I feel almost as if I am invading their space.

I turn to Todd, who has his face buried in the sunshade of the viewfinder, most likely in a shooter's paradise of amazing footage to be had all around him. I ask, "Did you get that water buffalo?"

He looks up from his viewfinder, "Yes ...a few different sizes. You see anything else that we should get out here?"

I do a 360-degree scan of the area, and my eyes set on another, yet another water buffalo moving slowly up the narrow shelf of clay. Todd and I chose to wander out, on to shoot the paddies. The strip we are standing on is about 3 feet wide and stands nearly a foot above the flooded plane where the rice is planted.

After a quick calculation, it becomes very clear that either Todd or I, or the approaching water buffalo, is going to have to get off this shelf and into the half submerged paddies for this to work out. And she is not looking like she will be getting out of our way - I feel like I am playing chicken with a massive, grayish-black, horned, and motivated beast ...but in super slow motion.

I then notice the two calves behind her.

Now this is interesting. A mom and two calves, walking towards Todd and I, with nowhere to go but through or around us. It is basic knowledge that in the wild (or elsewhere) it is never a good idea to upset a mother when her offspring are nearby - it is just bad business, and even the most docile and cute animals tend to get nasty when you mess with the kids. Naturally that rule is compounded when the mother in question has horns spanning nearly 6 feet, and the neck muscles are capable of tossing my 190-pound frame into the air like a wet tissue wearing a backpack.

I tell Todd, "Well, here is another one of them heading right for us. And she's got her kids with her."

Todd, looks up, looks at me and then starts filming our approaching guests. She is not paying any attention to us, and walks up the narrow stretch of land toward our position. Twenty-five feet ...20 ...15 ...10 ... and then, the mother heads off the clay shelf into the paddies to our left, and the calves branch off to paddies on our right.

Now Todd and I are standing right between a mother and her children.

Yikes.

At that moment she notices us - and her body language shifts immediately from the trundling mass of a docile farm animal to a different sort altogether. She stands upright and completely still, looks directly at me and starts breathing in a not-so-friendly fashion. It sounds like half-stifled coughs, but with a lung capacity of, well, a buffalo, behind the brays. Her eyes do not look kind, to say the least.

I hear Todd say, "I don't think she likes you.

"I get that feeling too."

I pull my camera out of my pocket and start firing off some still photos, "Hey Todd, just so you know, I am documenting this in case we both get gored by a water buffalo. Hopefully they will find the camera."

I realize that this is not a funny comment and put the camera away. She is still breathing like a goddamn freight train and staring me right in the eye.

"Not sure what the protocol is for handling this sort of thing. Stand still and hope for the best, huh?"

And as the last word falls out of my mouth, she forgets about me and starts giddily splashing away to rejoin her calves. Just like that.

I remember to breathe in ...and ask Todd, "Did you get that?"

Todd nods his head.

JA

I'm watching Tony Bourdain eat roadkill.

For the last hour I've been cutting a scene of Tony at a Chicago restaurant that specializes in molecular gastronomy of a rather unusual variety. Try to imagine Ferran Adria's El Bulli crossed with a novelty gift shop that sells chocolates in the shape of dog turds and you'll get some idea of the place. He's just had a big bite of a dish called "Roadkill," actually it's a very delicately prepared dish of shredded duck confit with a splattering of a beet puree and a toasted rosemary infused marshmallow that is meant to resemble entrails, or maggots, or ...well, you get the idea

It's a fun scene and the kind that usually cuts itself. Tony is clearly digging this kooky molecular gastro- concoction. At one point he says kiddingly, "I may have eaten roadkill before." But is he really kidding? One of the aspects of this show that consistently amazes me is Tony's willingness to eat whatever his hosts are generous enough to offer. Anything and everything.

Anyone who has been even a casual viewer of this series has likely seen Mr. Bourdain ingest fermented meats, fermented meat liquor, raw poultry, animal genitalia (lots of animal genitalia), Hawaiian luau steam-table fare, various and sundry livestock organs and, of course, unwashed, semi-cooked warthog rectum, and that's just scratching the surface. In other words, he doesn't just talk the talk he walks the walk and he keeps on walking the walk.

A lot of travel show hosts may "eat for the camera," meaning a few bites just enough to get the scene done, but when you see Tony eating a meal, he's actually eating that meal. Whether it's a 15-course tasting menu or a pound of grilled hyenna spleen, he is there. And of course, it's worth noting that it's not just the meals you see in the show that he eats, there's also the meals that wind up in the International versions of the show and the meals that don't even make it out of the edit room. What you see isn't what he's done . . .it's merely a portion of what's he's done. At times it's a burden, we should all be so lucky to have, at other times it borders on literally putting his health (at least his gastro-intestinal health) in jeopardy. It lends another layer of authenticity to the show and is a testament to his dedication.

But it doesn't just stop at food. In addition to keeping it real with his meals, TB also does his own stunts. Perhaps, he would rather not, but through the magic of semi-planned circumstance, what you see is what he got. Getting rolled over twice by an ATV in New Zealand -- no stunt-double there. Descending hundreds of feet into a wet, stinking, treacherous, bat shit-filled cave in Jamaica - that was really him. And sitting through hour upon hour of mind-numbing conversations about crop cycles with German-Namibian farmers - all Tony.

So just remember, next time you're really enjoying an episode of "No Reservations," or if you're not enjoying it, or if you're pissed because you're watching the same repeat from season 2 that's been airing for the one millionth time, just remember what Tony does. For your entertainment alone Tony risks it; for your entertainment alone Tony does it; and for your entertainment alone. . . Tony eats it.

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.

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 ...On the occasion when I meet someone new at a party or other social function, or whenever I'm around extended family and the subject of my involvement with No Reservations comes up, it is typically met with some enthusiasm, if not outright excitement. Even people who have only a passing knowledge of the show will know about "that chef guy who ate the live cobra heart," or "oh yeah, the guy who ate the pig anus." Typically the first question will be, "Wow, do you get to go to all those exotic locations with Tony?"

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!

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.
Back in NY I had pitched the idea of pairing Tony up with legendary Darrick "Double D" Doerner, Laird (the God of surf) Hamilton's right hand tow-in man. My executive producer was initially excited but as we got closer to the shoot, hidden expenses started to circle the sequence like sharks drawn to a bleeding rookie. I think the boss' last words to me were "fine, do it, but bring me back Riding Giants." No problem.

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?"

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.

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.

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

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 â€" 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.

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.

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!