I love me some Tony Bourdain. I’ve staked out at Les Halles for a glance at the chef. A broken-in copy of Kitchen Confidential resides on my bookshelf next to back issues of Soldier of Fortune and The Complete Works of Chuck Klosterman. My Tivo is choking under the weight of the No Reservations President’s Day marathon. And yet, even the gravitational pull of my slightly obsessive fandom wasn't enough to keep Bourdain from debasing the culinary world and scorching my retinas with the most God-awful shoe known to man. I am not alone in this hatred.
Despite the near-universal repulsion of this “shoe,” Bourdain and his New York culinary compatriots will be presenting the 2nd Annual Gold Clog Awards to much acclaim and eye-rolling.
The Swollen Liver Award for chef who has most consistently resisted the cruel attentions of PETA and the Food Police
The Douchebag Award for the best example of twisted, repressed, or compromised "I'd rather be making lemon bundt cake with My Cat, Mr. Mufflesworth" journalist who actually HATES food and hates the people who make food even more
The Crazy Bastard Special Achievement Award for the chef who did the most insanely wonderful or heroic fucking thing in recent memory
Bon Appetit! The foodies will be watching.
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