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During my vacation, I read Anthony Bourdain‘s new book, Medium Raw, an uneven collection of essays in which the chef-cum-writer turns his jaundiced eye to a number of subjects, including José Andrés (a hero), Alan Richman (a douchebag), David Chang (the future of dining), and Alice Waters (an apolitical sensualist).

But late in the book, Bourdain turns his attention to his former place of employment, Les Halles, in New York City and its few satellites, including the now-shuttered D.C. location. Writes Bourdain:

Les Halles Washington, DC, closed its doors, and Les Halles Miami changed ownership. Thank God, the way I look at it. They were always, in my experience, a drag on the reputation and finances of the mother ship on Park Avenue — and the successful downtown branch of John Street. I still love those two restaurants, still swing by whenever I can, and am much relieved that their bastard cousins in the hinterlands have stopped being a problem.

Then again, that douchebag Richman would claim that NYC’s Les Halles doesn’t have a reputation to lose, if you go by his March 2008 review, which the GQ critic admitted was a revenge hit.

Photo courtesy of No Reservations

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