Where watching No Reservations is like settling into a riveting essay, watching The Layover is like thumbing through a branded pocket guide. He offers lyricism without preciousness and awe without hype, and his observations about food and culture do something to nourish the soul. The new show is a lesser cousin to Anthony Bourdain: No Reservations, a travel show that succeeds beautifully precisely because Bourdain proceeds less as the host of a travel show than as the narrator of a compact odyssey. ET), where Bourdain exhibits a further willingness to present himself as a cartoon.
If you enjoyed this scene and are eager to digest more of the same, then tune into The Layover (Mondays at 9 p.m. He presented Marge with a “triple-spicy barbecued stingray stuffed with pig organs” and then stood by, mellowly aghast, as Homie swallowed it whole. There was Mario Batali sporting his own line of Crocs on his feet, Julia Child wearing her signature pearls, and the Swedish Chef lurking behind his trademark mustache, but foremost there was Anthony Bourdain, pairing sandals with a blazer and fondly parodying his existence as the sharpest knife in television’s drawer of professional gourmands. Then she started fretting that Homer-very suddenly eager to trade in his doughnuts for artisanal beignets-would steal her foodie thunder, and a handful of celebrity chefs appeared to Marge in an anxiety dream set at a Singapore food stall. The episode, titled “The Food Wife,” found Marge earning plaudits as “Fun Mom” for introducing Bart and Lisa to the exotic pleasures of Springfield’s restaurant scene. “There’s nowhere I won’t go and nothing I won’t eat as long as I’m paid in emeralds and my hotel room has a bidet that shoots warm Champagne.”
“I’m food bad boy Tony Bourdain,” said food bad boy Tony Bourdain, last Sunday night on The Simpsons.
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