Medium Raw - Chicken Laksa

Medium Raw: A Bloody Valentine to the World of Food and the People Who Cook

By Anthony Bourdain

281 pages, HarperCollins, 2010

It’s hard to not want to dislike Anthony Bourdain a lot of the time, but it’s harder to actually dislike him – and Medium Raw makes the latter even harder.

There were definitely things to dislike about Kitchen Confidential, the 2000 tell-all, no-holding-back, warts-and-all, *insert your own cliché* memoir/essay that made Bourdain a star. It was crude, it was arrogant, its tone often spiteful and vindictive. But it was also vigorous, playful and unapologetically, gleefully, loudly entertaining. It exposed the restaurant business as the rowdy, raucous, chaotic, macho environment we now all know it to be. Another of the book's saving graces was that, no matter how harsh Bourdain was about his peers and acquaintance­s in the business, he never set himself up to be any better. No matter what you think of his attitude and tone, the man is lucid about most things, including himself.

This trend continues in Medium Raw, a fairly disjointed series of essays about the world of food and Bourdain's journey through it. If anything, the tone is more measured, the author more humbled, more conciliatory. He explains the angry, frantic state of mind he was in when he wrote Kitchen Confidential. He addresses (and largely admits to) charges that he is no longer really a chef, and that he has been, overall, damn lucky in life. He nuances his much publicized hatred of the Food Network. He even finishes a biting chapter on Alice Waters, whom he clearly has no love for, with the concession that the lady is really probably right about most things that matter, and that she basically just annoys him. You want to know how much Bourdain has changed in ten years? There's an entire chapter devoted to how he is raising his two-year-old daughter.

Not that there aren't traces of the old, incendiary Bourdain. There is a chapter titled “Heroes and Villains,” where he separates those worthy of his praise from those who deserve only his scorn. There is a chapter titled “Alan Richman Is A Douchebag,” which really just speaks for itself. There are tirades against anti-foie gras activists and vegetarians. Many will probably find such posturing distasteful – I know I almost did at times.

But when Bourdain starts writing about the heart of the matter, which is food itself... then the magic happens. Bourdain writes about food in a manner that you somehow never get tired of. He makes the sensual experience come alive. And the wonderful thing is, instead of reveling in this talent and letting it work its spell, he exposes it for the manipulation that it is. In fact, he declares that this kind of literature is a guilty pleasure akin to porn.

And maybe that's what makes this book so compelling: it is, in itself, a guilty pleasure. Bourdain himself, I would venture, is a guilty pleasure. Perhaps his tirades against the people he dislikes are unjustified in some way – but God, are they fun to read. Yes, Alice Waters has revolutionized the food culture and continues to make relevant points - but I dare you to not smile while reading Bourdain's takedown of her. There is something about his swagger and bluntness that is addictive. Which makes me suspect that this man was born to write about glorious, addictive food. Guilty pleasures being together.

There are also more measured, thoughtful chapters in Medium Raw, such as the ones on the meat industry, gargantuan tasting menus, Top Chef, and the ever enigmatic David Chang. While not necessarily landmarks of food writing, these chapters give us valuable insight on modern food culture.

Numerous passages made me salivate and crave things, usually things that were unattainable, because I lacked either the ingredients or the technique to prepare them properly. One thing that seemed relatively accessible was laksa, a Southeast Asian curry coconut milk noodle soup, which I made a few times years ago. Bourdain describes it as the ultimate hangover killer:

“You're oblivious to the view of the river, and the sights and smells of morning, focusing only on the chipped white bowl of steaming laksa coming your way – the promise of relief. The smell hits you first as the waiter deposits it in front of you with a clunk you feel in your pineal gland: a rich, fiery, hearty, spicy steam of fish and coconut gravy. You dig in with chopsticks and spoon, slurp your first mouthful of noodles – a powerful hit of sambal grabbing hold of you, exorcising the Evil. Ensuing mouthfuls bring shrimp, cockles, and fish cake... more spicy-sweet gravy... more noodles. It burns. It burns so good. You're sweating now, the poison leaving your pores, brain kick-starting... something that might just be hope secreting from your shriveled, sun-dried, terribly abused cortex.” (Medium Raw, p.87).

Laksa is delicious even when you don't have a hangover. It's also easily adaptable. Not entirely seduced by my old recipe, I looked around online and ended up combining elements from Feasting at Home and Jamie Oliver. Unlike Bourdain's sampling, this version contains chicken and no seafood (other than dried shrimp), but I wouldn't hesitate to add fresh shrimp or shellfish. The curry paste I use is fairly hot, but I like it that way, so adjust your chilies accordingly.

Chicken Laksa

Adapted from recipes by Feasting at Home and Jamie Oliver

Serves 4

For the marinade:

2 tbsp canola oil

2 tbsp fish sauce

1 tsp dried chili flakes (or1 tsp sambal oelek)

juice of one lemon

2 cloves garlic, minced

1 tbsp fresh ginger, minced

450g (1 pound) boneless, skinless chicken thighs

For the soup:
2 tbsp canola oil

3 cloves garlic, minced

2 tbsp fresh ginger, minced

3 (or more) dried chilies, rehydrated and coarsely chopped

1 tbsp dried shrimp, rehydrated (optional)

1 tbsp red curry paste

400ml (1 can, or 1.7 cups) coconut milk

500ml (2 cups) water or chicken stock

1-2 tbsp fish sauce

4 handfuls of flat rice noodles

Combine the marinade ingredients (except for the chicken) in a large bowl. Pound the chicken thighs to flatten them and add them to the marinade, turning to coat. Cover with plastic wrap and leave in the refrigerator for a few hours.

Bring a large pot of water to a boil for your rice noodles.

In a wok, heat the oil over high heat. Add the garlic and ginger and stir-fry until fragrant, about 2 minutes. Add the chilies and shrimp (if using), and cook for another minute. Stir in the curry paste and cook for 30 seconds, then add a few tablespoonfuls of coconut milk and stir until curry paste is dissolved. Reduce heat to low and gradually stir in the rest of the coconut milk, then the water or stock and the fish sauce. Let simmer very gently (do not let it boil, or the coconut milk will separate) for about 10 minutes. Taste and adjust seasoning if necessary.

While your soup is simmering, heat a grill pan over high heat and grill the chicken thighs, about 4 minutes per side, until nicely browned (charred is even better) and cooked through. Remove from the grill, cut into bite-sized pieces and reserve.

When ready to serve, cook your rice noodles according to packaging instructions (in most cases, this involves turning off the heat from under your pot of boiling water, putting the noodles in and letting them soak a few minutes until tender, stirring early on to separate them).

Drain the noodles and divide them into bowls. Ladle the soup over the noodles. Garnish each bowl with pieces of grilled chicken and serve immediately.