He Eats, Shoots, Then Leaves

Probably Singapore. It's a wealthy city-state, but they love eating hawker food, street food. They're all food experts. They'll argue with you about all these obscure regional Chinese dishes, but also about how to make a fettucine carbonara, and they'll give you a respectable argument.

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Naturally food crazy, though? The Vietnamese love to cook, love to eat. The Japanese are the most fetishistic about food. They focus on one detail. And of course the Chinese, the mother cuisine. There'd be no Singapore food without China. There'd be nothing worth eating in the world without China, as far as I'm concerned.

Do people pretty much throw monkey brains at you wherever you go?

If I'm doing an event at a restaurant, offal tends to show up. People know what I like. But in Asia, it gets really crazy, because the show is so popular in Asia. Malaysia, Singapore, Taiwan, much of Southeast Asia. It's huge. "Oh, you're that guy who loves our food, and you like durian. Have you tried fermented durian?" The show's hugely popular in South America, parts of Europe, but really [expletive] crazy in Asia. I love being popular in Asia, because I love being in Asia.

How does traveling to Asia differ when you're there for the show vs. there for fun?

Chances are, the fixer, the local who's helping with the show, is going to be a friend: I usually use food writers, friends of friends. So the whole crew has fun. It's seamless. The cameras are on; the cameras are off. The crew sits down; we continue eating and drinking. The fun happens in certain cultures more easily than others. It'll happen in Russia, but two or three bottles of vodka are required.

Are you as cool as people think? You've got a pretty hip image.

I'm physically awkward, the father of a 6-month-old girl around whom the world revolves, I'm 51 years old. How cool can I be? But genuinely not giving a [expletive], that's real. I had the very good fortune that all of this happened to me late. I had really good training for this. I'd been a heroin addict, and you have a really good [expletive] detector as a junkie. Life's short, and I'm on bonus round here.

How long a round do you think it'll be? It's a tiring gig, isn't it?

Compared to what? Standing in a kitchen 14 hours a day, 110 degrees, making 300 meals? Nah, it's not that bad.

So I take it you don't miss cooking.

I miss the after-action rush, the residual adrenaline, the sense of accomplishment, the quantifiable achievement. You don't get that from anything else. There's always a sinking feeling after a really good show airs or a book does really well. Was it really good? I never felt that, cooking. I always knew how good I was on any given night, or how bad. When the dining room is happy, you go home the absolute conqueror.

You quit smoking because of your daughter. Are there other ways in which she's taming you? Not eating things you might eat or not going places you might go?

I don't think I'll be jumping out of any planes. I feel an obligation not to do anything stupid. A few years ago, I didn't give a [expletive] whether I lived or died.

How's her palate shaping up so far?

Her mom's Italian and takes a very dim view of American food and American child-rearing traditions. She had her parents bootleg in all this wild baby food: prosciutto flavor, rabbit flavor, wild boar, Parmigiano-Reggiano. I saw a very interesting article where they did a study where they wrapped healthy food in a McDonald's wrapper, and the kids would like it more. Of course, this will work in reverse: Wrap hairballs and [expletive] in a McDonald's wrapper, and say, "Look at what the smelly clown gave you! You know, Ronald, the one with cooties?"

I'm hoping she gets to be on a first-name basis with sushi chefs all over Manhattan.