What Would Anthony Bourdain Do?

          I have been a fan of Anthony Bourdain since the first months of my post-immigration solitude. I did not drive a car, did not have any friends, and my husband was working full-time, so I just stayed alone in our house in the woods on a tiny island in the Pacific Northwest, trying to figure out how long it would take to get my life back on track.  It was still quite hard for me to understand English spoken on TV, but in my desperate search for entertainment, I spent hours watching the Food Network and the Travel Channel. During those grueling months, I “got to know” the controversial food critic, chef, and traveler Anthony Bourdain through his renowned show No Reservations.  That show would become my introduction into the world of food, bizarre encounters, and not-so-touristy experiences.

          I guess it was logical then that I remembered about Bourdain when I entered the old Mexican market located in El Centro Historico in Mazatlan, Mexico. My parents-in-law brought us to the Mazatlan’s oldest open market to show Mexican culture at its most honest and vibrant best. The smell of fermented fruit, displays of fresh (and, ahem, sometimes not so fresh) fish, openly butchered meats and poultry, and buckets full of fresh seafood added to the colorful medley of fruit, vegetables, pastries, clothes, souvenirs and more.  
           I wondered what a famous traveler and a chef would say about the abundance of produce and an astonishing variety of meat cuts and meat parts lain in the open air before our eyes. I think he would be braver than me, because I would not try the mysteriously looking dishes sold by the vendors. Some dishes looked like sophisticated tamales, some were completely unrecognizable. And although the smell was extremely seductive, I opted not to try anything, but rather point my lens at these incredible representations of Mexican culture. I wondered whether Bourdain would also pause in awe in front of the colorful produce stands and whether he would want to blend in with the crowd as much as I did. I mused whether he would want to speak like a native and immerse himself in the world that runs its course while we are comfortably sipping coffee on our Northwestern mornings. I think he would.

            We left the market with several bags full of fresh fruit and vegetables, but the best find was purchased last. Wrapped tight in a black plastic bag were beautiful wild Mexican shrimp bought after a few minutes of bargaining from the “shrimp ladies”—my father’s-in-law famous shrimp buying spot. The course was set for the first dinner celebrating Mexican seafood treasure.