Shaburi: Torturing the Drama Nerd (warning: TOTALLY tangential post)
Oh man, I SPRINTED back to the cozy, dorktastic arms of Brunes in the Diners Journal today after having read “Showdown in the Kitchen,” Bittman’s braggy and defensive “article” about [several-page ADVERTISEMENT for] his new TV show entitled “How to Cook Everything: Bittman Takes On America's Chefs,” the hypermacho point of which is:
“Mark Bittman is a REALLY good cook, and if HE had teams of assistants and a $6 million kitchen, he’d be Jean-Daniel Bouluvichterpuck, too.”
Remember how in high school there were Civil War buff fencing-team drama kids that were perpetual embarrassments to themselves (you know, ‘cause they had to carry épees around and run their “Carousel” lines out loud) but then grew up and turned out to be really cool? And then there were those prickish self-assured athletes that totally reigned but were secretly peaking as they banged Tina Prendermuff in the hot tub at the Shelton Inn and are now in Pensacola coaching a girl’s Catholic basketball team and doing a lot of coke? I’m just saying. I think Bittman peaked. And I think Bruni, proverbially speaking, is going to grow up and be really cool.
That said, due to lines like these from this week’s report on shabu shabu joint Shaburi, I still feel the unalienable right to chant “Wed-GIE! Wed-GIE!” while I hoist Frank in the air by his waistband:
“About that beef: it was advertised as Matsusaka-style and characterized by our server as a cut above Kobe, which seems to be the hot new claim. It came from cattle raised in a specially pampered manner in Idaho, Oregon and Washington. As it cost $69 for about seven ounces, I hope and assume the pampering includes Tivo, Opus One spritzers and bovine facials.”
Bovine facials? Oh my God. Get OVER HERE, you fucking geek!