It is difficult not to like Tony Bourdain instantly. First and foremost, the New York-bred writer/cuisine expert tells it like it is (scorning Emeril, deriding vegetarians, deeming the American palate “arrogant”). In “Kitchen Confidential,” Bourdain’s best-selling exposé about the underbelly of the restaurant business, we learned the reasons for never ordering fish on Mondays and why hollandaise is made mostly of “recycled” table butter. Now in “A Cook’s Tour,” we travel around the globe in search of the perfect meal. In a project funded by the Food Network (Bourdain signed on primarily for the book, not the 20-episode reality show), we again see the author’s balls-out attitude — whether it’s a treacherous boat ride through the Cambodian jungle, eating “still living fresh” tuna on a Japanese dock, cruising through the desert on a camel’s back toward a sacred Moroccan city or ingesting exotic drugs. This is gonzo food writing at its best. Bourdain recently chatted about William Grimes, munching on iguana, and that “party fucking animal” Mario Batali.

The Badger Herald: Why do you think Burt Wolf is such a wanker?

Anthony Bourdain: Burt Wolf is more knowledgeable than me. He is more informative and wears a white jacket in the kitchen. This is a mystery to me. What’s he doing there in that suit? He’s not cooking anything! He’s your guide. I’m not anybody’s guide. I’m an enthusiast with a point of view. The viewer or the reader will see the world as I see it, with all the mistakes and misconceptions intact. I bring my fears and prejudices with me. In fact, I am very careful to make sure that the reader knows that I am an impartial observer.

BH: I understand you have written some fiction. How did you get into expository writing?

AB: I wrote two satirical thrillers in ’95 and ’97. My fiction originally sank without a trace when I sent a short unsolicited piece to The New Yorker. That’s where I got my break.

BH: How do you fit writing into your regular job as executive chef?

AB: I’ve become the chef I always hated. I’m like the casino greeter at the restaurant now, being that I’m traveling around the world on a 30-city book tour [and not working at the restaurant]. We hired a full-time cuisine to run the day-to-day. I really am the spiritual leader — hostmaster general, in a sense.

BH: The New York City food critics are the rock stars of the profession. Who do you read?

AB: William Grimes — [his column] is the first thing I read on Wednesdays. It’s hard to make an argument that [The New York Times] isn’t fair. They come, they’re anonymous, they eat at the restaurants three or four times. They’re straight, unlike many food writers.

BH: Do you know what Grimes looks like?

AB: No, and you know what? They were faxing photos around a while ago from restaurant to restaurant. It didn’t help at all. He is the sort of guy that could walk right by you and you would never know. He uses alias credit cards.

BH: Name your favorite under-$20 spots in the city?

AB: 2nd Avenue Deli is fantastic. You can’t go wrong with the noodle shops on Division Street. The Corner Bistro in the Village has a great burger. Lombardi’s Pizza for the white clam pies on Spring Street.

BH: Did The Food Network give you advance copies of the show?

AB: I have only seen rough cuts, so I’ve been watching like everybody else week to week. But, you know, I’ve seen myself on TV enough, thank you very much.

BH: You criticize The Food Network repeatedly in your book. Have the producers made you look like an ass yet?

AB: I can’t complain. I’m out peddling a book, so the show can’t hurt me. I agree with every review written about me. If I sound like a jerk, I was probably a jerk that day. If I go on a show and it ends up being a freak show, it’s my fault. I’m pretty happy with the rough cuts that I have seen. When I’m happy, I’m happy. When I’m miserable, I look pissed off, sweaty and chain-smoking.

BH: Would you call the show cinema vérité?

AB: Yes! We didn’t stage meals in the sense that I don’t take a bite and then cut the cameras. I eat everything that is given to me. There is an eager and proud host, more likely than not, feeding me what he has to offer, and I tried to be a good guest in most cases.

BH: That stewed iguana, though, you had to take action there.

AB: It was tough. I did not enjoy that dish. There were a couple of times where you see me shoveling food under the table or throwing it over my shoulder before the chef comes back. It wasn’t always easy, it wasn’t always pretty, but I tried to approach every country without prejudice.

BH: You eat like a king most days. How do you keep your weight down?

AB: I’m a fidgety, hyper, neurotic chain smoker. I don’t exercise. On the road I will gain three pounds, and when I gain three pounds, I really feel it. Usually that will follow with a few evenings on a cold bathroom floor, so I’m really into binging and purging.

BH: Your book is incredibly detailed. How did you recall everything when writing the book many months later? Did you look at the footage the Food Network shot?

AB: Every day I would wake up with a really bad hangover and write down as much as possible. This was important because everything was fresh then. Actually, every three days the TV people would film me in my hotel room and ask me if I liked this or that and where did [I] go and why did [I] go there. And they used my own words to chop up into a voiceover for the material that they shot. So most of the voiceover is my own words off the top of the head. Of course, we went into a studio and re-recorded it, but I was reading a script of my own words, essentially. And the only time I relied on the tapes when writing the book was when I needed the name of a dish or the name of a restaurant. I was able to call the TV people or watch the rough cuts to figure out a logistical detail. But I really tried to keep both projects separate because, of course, they are.

BH: What was your biggest surprise during your trip?

AB: How countries that have so little, like Mexico and Vietnam, have food that is so good and so fresh. How people take such pride and place such an importance on the meal, oft-times more so than in the States, a very wealthy country where we can have anything at any time. Here, they are making magic out of almost nothing. That really struck me every time. They had my heart.

BH: In both your books, you repeatedly attack the vegetarian lifestyle. What’s so wrong with tempeh?

AB: It strikes me as arrogant and contemptuous towards the rest of the world. It’s elitist and, most of all, fearful. I feel for animals and feel vegetarians and vegans have good hearts, but I am automatically suspicious of any orthodoxy or those rigid in their belief system. If I’m in a room and 10 people all believe in me, I automatically doubt myself seriously.

BH: Is there any hope for the TV chef?

AB: Mario [Batali] is a rock-and-roller. He runs really fine restaurants, loves poverty food and is a real adventurer. He’s a wild man. Twice as funny, twice as smart and three times as good a cook as me. And a party fucking animal.

BH: What was the most challenging segment to shoot?

AB: Morocco was tough. I had to be polite constantly and very aware that I was in an Islamic country. There’s not a lot to eat there and no booze. I would like to do it again at a more relaxed pace without cameras.

BH: Can the American palate be saved?
AB: What’s great about food is that there are an awful lot of talented chefs out there and lots of new exciting restaurants around this country. These are great times to be eating out in America. I’m perfectly willing to believe that there are great restaurants in Wisconsin.