The year is 2000, and Anthony Bourdain had just come off the laurels of his book, Kitchen Confidential: Adventures in the Culinary Underbelly. The New York Times bestseller shot him from the kitchens of Les Halles to stardom for its grisly, unsparing look at his time in the restaurant industry. Two years later, Bourdain is still riding high on that wave. 2002 marked the launch of his first-ever TV series, A Cook’s Tour, which was the ember that sparked the signature Bourdain genre: travel, candour, good food, culture, and a curiosity for the world and its people.
Waiting for him over in London, England, was a particularly foul-mouthed English chef ready to share his food with Bourdain. At the time, Gordon Ramsay had just been awarded his third Michelin star, making him the first Scottish chef to do so. That was all Ramsay was known for then: a damned good chef who frowns a lot. He’d popped up in the odd documentary here and there, but was still quite green on camera. It would only be a couple more years before Ramsay’s meteoric rise, which came with a television series of his own, Kitchen Nightmares.
During the episode, Bourdain prefaces his visit to the Gordon Ramsay Restaurant by introducing him to be “considered one of the best chefs in England, end of story.” Once seated, he adds, “he’s not a name brand, he’s a hands-on chef.” It’s ironic, knowing the things we do now, but a gem of a time capsule, nonetheless, that reflects how Gordon was perceived by the culinary world back then.
The meal starts off with an acidic plate of ham hock terrine over celery root, accompanied by a bowl of chilled consommé and caviar drifting around the broth. Bourdain’s verdict: “Superb. Really, really, really extraordinary.”
The second course was lobster ravioli over a bed of pea purée with truffles, white asparagus and lobster vinaigrette. Bourdain’s favourite part of the dish was the baby peas, a vegetable he typically loathes. “When you’re good at vegetables, it speaks so loudly to me,” he says. “You’re doing God’s work.”
The main course, however, was what turned Bourdain into a Ramsay believer. Shin of beef is braised in the oven with red wine and mirepoix for four hours to achieve a tenderness that surrendered to his fork. It’s then served on a bed of new Caesar spinach with grated black truffles that’s crowned with a decadent slab of foie gras. “That should stuff him,” Ramsay quips. “But knowing him, he eats like a fucking horse, so I’m sure he’ll find room somewhere.”
Over in the dining room, Bourdain would interrupt his occasional sounds of pleasure by singing Ramsay’s praise.
“This is too good. This is extraordinary. This is one of the best things I’ve eaten, ever.”
The episode concludes with both chefs chopping it up at the back of the kitchen, both smiling, both exchanging adulation from one chef to another. They didn’t know it then, but this would be their first and last time collaborating on a TV project.
...At a book signing in Santa Cruz, someone in the crowd will ask Bourdain what he thinks of Ramsay. He’ll tell them that “Gordon’s actually a really sweet, nice guy,” before expressing his hatred for the show that will catapult Ramsay to a global brand, Hell’s Kitchen.
He will describe it as “a cruel carnival routine to see how much longer Jumbo would last before he strokes out, or bursts into tears,” insisting that Ramsay in Kitchen Knightmares (the BBC one) is a much closer representation of how he is in real life, rather than the one he pretends to be on television.
Four years after that, in 2012, Bourdain publicly will call out Ramsay on Twitter for attempting to trademark the name “Spotted Pig” in the UK—a move that would have prevented the existing brand built by revered chef April Bloomfield, from entering the country. Gordon will eventually withdraw his trademark application. Whether Bourdain’s chastisement played a role will remain unclear.
Finally, the last entry of their documented relationship will come in 2018, after Bourdain takes his own life while filming an episode of Parts Unknown in France. Ramsay will post a tribute on Twitter, expressing respect and gratitude to Bourdain for how he “brought the world into our homes and inspired so many people to explore cultures and cities through their food.”
But back in 2002, none of that existed yet. Both chefs are holed up in the back of a busy restaurant in London. Both, unaware of the seismic influence they’d soon reign on the world, bigger than any bestselling author and Michelin chef could ever dream of. An arm is uncrossed, a firm handshake is shared, and the camera fades to black.
