Give me the lighter. Said the lighter, the lighter, dumb nuts!
Alright, give it to me, give me the ring.
I said, the ring, give me the ring.
I am Anthony Bourdain, I write, I travel, I eat, and I am hungry for more.
Anthony Bourdain – New Zealand
I’ve always pictured New Zealand as a land down under down under as a beautiful country populated by really nice people as diverse and unique as the terrain itself. It’s no surprise that they chose to shoot those Lord of the Ring movies here. It’s like nothing else I have seen anywhere in the world. But it’s also the country where I nearly lost my life; seriously, although I was probably asking for it. Then again, the way the trip started, I should have seen it coming.
Move in units! Move in units!
Just look at me now, travelling the world like an eccentric stand-up comedian, signing copies of my books, giving interviews, a half-life with a relatively pampered and exotic one. I used to have a real job as a working chef – 28 years behind the stove, 28 years searing meat, dunking fries, roasting bones and slinging hash. I wrote one obnoxious over testosterone book, suddenly my life changed overnight.
It’s just part of my new life as the Flying Dutchman hopping from one, one food festival to another, travelling around the world, running perpetually for sheriff, talking ruthlessly about myself in front of the audience and the foodies.
This time around I have been booked in at the Savour Food and Wine Festival in Christchurch. Here we go, filled to capacity with people paying top dollar to hear me speak. I do this a lot but I intend to kill today. Kill I tell you.
Ladies and gentlemen ____ the main event prepare yourselves for the bad boy brought from around the world, Anthony Bourdain.
I am a little worried, when cookbooks and cooking shows are like porn, you know food porn. I mean, I worry that people are like when they look at porn, gaping at pictures of people doing things and photographs, that they themselves are not going to do anytime soon. Tell me, is there any, any vegetarians here? I know you’re out there. Nothing?
I am freaking dying out here. Generally after these events I want to hang myself in one of the shower stalls and today it’s no different.
My God, is this the end? Has my 15 minutes of fame run out? Have I lost it? I’ve got another talk coming up in a week and unless I want a repeat of today’s debacle, I better figure out what makes these Kiwis tick. So we will start off with participating in an authentic New Zealand’s pass time, something that takes a little bit of hard work, perhaps a little wild boar hunting in the countryside will put me back in touch with my primal roots. Get me back that killer instinct, some edge.
Okay, time to get the heck out of dodge and head up to the open country on the northern tip of New Zealand on the South Island.
I gotta ask you, I am a little apprehensive; apparently I have to find my own dinner tomorrow.
Tania, the local inn-keeper has been good enough to hook me up with some expert wild boar hunters. She promised to take me off the main highway, back to the essentials, blood and meat.
I have seen a pig die before. What’s in store for me?
It’s Friday, some local activity.
Have you done this?
Yes I have.
And how do we dispose them? With a like an automatic weapon right?
No no, a knife.
Yes, we all get the same 80 pound boar. It strangles like a stock pig, strangely enough.
I love cute little animals, I am a civilized sort of a guy but tomorrow I am a Texas chain saw master.
Yes I got it, come on.
A beautiful day at the Mud-Brick Lodge, Tania in exile from the hustle and bustle of the city, moved to the Marlborough region in pursuit of a simpler life and looking around it’s hard to blame her.
Are you going to come inside, say hello?
For last few years, she has been operating this cozy and comfortable retreat tucked away in the Rai valley. It isn’t the five start hotels I’ve become accustomed to but it is perfect for getting away from all the madness. Alas! No time to sleep in or relax.
I feel like a pork chop.
Tania had woke me up at the crack of dawn, this is what I asked for. Out with three hunting guides and a pack of dogs, I feel right at home. Meet Bugs, Scum and the more sensibly named Andy. Really that’s their names. Tania sent me out to the bush with strict instructions to not come home without dinner. Not to worry, these three guys have refined boar hunting to a lethal science. Bugs points out some freshly disturbed soil, the tell-tale sign of the wild boar.
Before any of you animal rights activist go crazy on me it’s important that you know that wild boars are considered a real menace in farms in New Zealand tearing up everything green in sight. They go so out of hand, that government provides incentives to hunters.
Graze was once good to keep the pigs in good numbers. If they was Left their wives on the farms the pigs just got out of control and the officials drive them off the farms plus they aren’t good anyare good eating. It’s called a good thing it’s got a be good for you.
The three amigos and their dogs have caught on the boar’s trail and I have been assigned the s task of humping up the hill and trying to keep up. Come on Tony, just a little bit further.
This isn’t fair, the dogs have four legs to my two and they don’t smoke two packs a day.
There I’ve heard of singing for your supper but this is just pushing it, maybe we can just get take out.
What’s happening to our piggy? What’s our piggy friend doing right now?
Andy is up there and he is gonna, and I think he is gonna try and get the dogs of the trail and bring it down alive.
So he’ll just come running down here and hop into my arms, then I put an apple in his mouth?
Possibly, possibly yeah!
Typically the dogs come back from hunting the vicious, wild boar with gashes and patches of missing fur. Luckily for them, this particular rowdy went off without a hitch.
Okay, no blood on my hands, yet but Scum, I do not want this man mad at me.
I think he was done.
So apparently, all meat doesn’t come in a plastic bag or a box. Does it porky? Better than you than me.
I like animals, they are cute, what I also like is the delicious taste of wild boar.
Okay, I made it through the hunt, for a while it looked like it was going to be me not the boar getting carried away of the hill. Fellow hunters don’t touch that carcass with your blood stained hands. When we come back, it’s my time to shine, once an animal safely becomes meat, I know what to do with it.
My momma then told me, pick something for dinner.