The Joshua Tree Episode

Hello, friend—

This issue is going to be a bit of an adventure. Twisty roads. Unforeseen outcomes. You know how it goes—buckle up. It may get bumpy.

During that strange, liminal week between Christmas and New Year, I found myself wondering how many holiday episodes Anthony Bourdain actually did. That curiosity dropped me into the No Reservations episode where he gets kicked out of his house for the holidays.

It is, frankly, a wild ride through someone else’s mushroom trip.
The ghost does not disagree.

But tucked inside that episode is something important: Queens of the Stone Age. One of my favorite bands. I saw them live in 2002 in Salt Lake City. Incredible. Ferocious. Familiar in a way that gets under your skin and stays there.

That discovery somehow led me—inevitably—to Season 7, Episode 13: U.S. Desert.

This is the episode where Anthony goes to Joshua Tree to spend time with Josh Homme (from the Queens of the Stone Age). It starts innocently enough. Anthony smashes a guitar Josh had been playing (as one does), and then we see him driving a turquoise 1964 Thunderbird convertible across empty desert highways, heading toward Joshua Tree.

That’s when the surrealism sets in.

The Road to Joshua Tree

I’ve been on that road. Vegas to Joshua Tree. In 2018. A group of badass motorcycle mamas and me, riding to Babes Ride Out—a women-only motorcycle rally that would end up changing my life in ways I couldn’t have predicted at the time.

Joshua Tree and the surrounding area are magical—if you like the desert.
And I do.
And so did Anthony.

Watching the episode again, something strange happened. I started to feel like a long chain of events in my life had quietly, patiently led me here—to this episode, to this food, to communing with Anthony’s ghost, to writing this newsletter.

It began to feel less like coincidence and more like recognition.

Is that destiny? Or just desert heat finally getting to me? A mirage? A trick of light?

I don’t know. But right about the time I started feeling hungry, Anthony and Josh walked into Pappy & Harriet’s in Pioneertown.

Pi-Town, Permanently

Pioneertown—Pi-Town, as it’s known locally—is a recreated Old West town, complete with staged gunfights and a world-famous restaurant that feels less like a business and more like a gathering point.

Our group of bikers spent an afternoon there once. Beers at the picnic tables out back while waiting for a table. Dust on our boots. Stories stacking up faster than the plates. And in that unassuming space, friendships that would turn out to be permanent were carved a little deeper into stone.

Not unlike Anthony and Josh.

Some friendships don’t need tending. They don’t require constant proximity. They’re formed in specific places, under specific conditions—and once they exist, they simply are. Wherever you wander afterward, you carry them with you.

As I said: it’s magic there.

I think I had a burger that day. (To be fair, the Joshua Tree Saloon had better burgers.) Josh ordered the ribeye. Anthony ordered the ribs.

And that’s when I decided I wasn’t going to cook from one of Anthony Bourdain’s cookbooks this week.

Instead, I was going to cook the episode.

Orange Corvette

First up: the drink.

In the episode, the drink of choice is the Corvette Summer—tequila, grapefruit juice, lime, and tonic. I love good tequila. I also love my very functional liver, and I can’t have grapefruit thanks to the medications that help keep it that way.

So I improvised.

Using Ritual’s alcohol-free tequila alternative and a combination of orange and lemon juice to mimic grapefruit’s sweet-bitter edge, I ended up with something bright, restrained, and entirely intentional.

I’m calling it Orange Corvette.

Partly because of the citrus.
Partly because of the episode.
And partly because I used to own an orange Corvette.

Bonus: I can still safely drive any color Corvette I want after three or four of these.

Cherry Ribs, Burned Nuts, and Letting Go

With the drink sorted, I turned to the entrée.

Pappy & Harriet’s current menu doesn’t specify rib details, so I’m assuming they’re classic smoked ribs. But my specialty? Cherry ribs. So that’s what I made.

Alongside them, I recreated Harriet’s House Salad—mixed greens, blue cheese, apple, and candied pecans with a citrus dressing.

I used The Grill Bitch’s Bar Nuts recipe from Appetites for the candied pecans—plus a few cashews and almonds for good measure. They were excellent.

Right up until I put them back in the oven, thinking I’d turned it off.

I had not.

That’s two weeks in a row I’ve burned something.

Halfway through smoking the ribs, my Traeger ran out of pellets. And right on cue, the weather shifted into cold rain and high winds. Perfect timing. Perfect chaos.

I drove my car half a block to Ace Hardware for a bag of cherry pellets—naturally—through wind and rain, questioning my life choices.

My kitchen had become a stressful place all of a sudden. Cold grill. Burned nuts. Weather turning mean.

And then my mind went back to another part of the episode—the visit to the Integratron. Quiet. Reverent. Still.

I’m not even going to try to explain that place here. If you know, you know. If you don’t, their website can do a better job than I ever could.

I needed that calm.

Eventually, the ribs were done.

How the Food Comes Together (The Easy Way)

Cherry ribs don’t have to be complicated—especially when five other things are already going sideways.

Grab a cherry BBQ rub, or make your own by blitzing dried cherries with your favorite rub. For the sauce: simmer frozen cherries with a little water until they release their juice. Use that liquid as a spritz if you like. Mash the cherries, add your favorite BBQ sauce, thin it slightly, and let it simmer for about ten minutes. Strain if desired. Slather generously.

The salad dressing is Ina Garten simple: one part lemon juice, two parts olive oil, salt and pepper. Apples do what apples do. Lettuce should have some personality—I used a frisée-like green because texture matters.

Then eat. And drink your cocktail—or mocktail.

What Stayed

I watched this episode twice. Because it resonates that deeply with my core memories—not just as a cook, but as a biker, as a woman, as someone whose life has been permanently altered by the friendships formed on that trip.

Those friendships taught me that I can do anything I set my mind to, and cook anything a recipe throws at me. That I can change a small piece of the world and make it better. And that friendships born in fire don’t burn up….they become permanently blazed into your soul.

Thank you for staying with me through this strange, unexpected convergence of my life and Anthony Bourdain’s.

Also, I won’t be sending a newsletter next week since I’ll be travelling for a family thing.

See you in two weeks.

In reverence and rebellion,
Michelle Davis
Your kitchen medium