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To eulogize Anthony Bourdain as merely a “celebrity chef” is a travesty. His work was uneven to be sure, but at his best, he was our generation’s Steinbeck. Our Hemingway.
The CLIO, Emmy, and Peabody award-winning writer and producer showed the grit and grime of the heroin epidemic long before it was national news. He took us deep into the heart of Congo’s darkness and found a bittersweet trace of remaining light. He taught us to drink absinthe in Paris. He exhibited friendship at its hysterical best with Zamir Gotta and Eric Ripert.
Tony’s work was always more than entertainment. Especially in his breakthrough Kitchen Confidential: Adventures in the Culinary Underbelly (2000), collection of vignettes in A Cook’s Tour (2001), and television programs No Reservations and Parts Unknown, we were treated to his master class in ethnography, his adventure-seeking spirit, and his gut-wrenching candor.
Of all the advice Bourdain dished out in his books and episodes, one lesson stands out most clearly: if you want to get to know a person quickly, ask them about their favorite childhood meal. Their answer will reveal so much because they’ll often inadvertently tell you who made it, where they were, who was with them, and how it differed from their normal dinners. And, in those details, you will begin to know their family, their culture, and what moves them.
Although he could talk the spots off a cheetah, Tony’s most descriptive moments came when he fell silent. That’s how you knew that after all these years, all these places, something had affected him viscerally. He stood gazing at the sunset in India once and quietly remarked that some places defy photography. Truth.
Tony often expressed appreciation for his remarkable opportunities, but he never sugarcoated life. In A Cook’s Tour, he told of returning from Vietnam fundamentally changed and shared how painful it was to encounter a life-altering trip across the planet and then come home to find his restaurant’s busboys still clearing the same tables. He wanted to talk about what he witnessed, but he knew his friends and family didn’t care because they hadn’t been there with him. How do you process an experience to which no one around you can relate? Now, do that over and over. For a career.
Anthony Bourdain was not just a world-class chef. Not just a famous travel guide. He was a gifted storyteller and cultural critic, pointing a macro lens at humanity’s joys and, even more often, our wounds.
There’s a telling quote which will be shared broadly today as we learn of Bourdain’s death. “Travel changes you,” he said in The Nasty Bits: Collected Varietal Cuts, Usable Trim, Scraps, and Bones. “As you move through this life and this world you change things slightly, you leave marks behind, however small. And in return, life — and travel — leaves marks on you. Most of the time, those marks — on your body or on your heart — are beautiful. Often, though, they hurt.”
None of us is capable of knowing where Ernest Hemingway, Robin Williams, Kate Spade, Anthony Bourdain, or any of the more than 3,000 people worldwide who commit suicide every day have have gone. Nor do we know what fate awaited Janis Joplin, Jimi Hendrix, Heath Ledger, Amy Winehouse, Prince or the other 200,000+ people who die from overdoses annually.
Wherever they are, may their souls finally be at peace and without scars.
Be well,
Andrea
Photo: Anthony Bourdain, courtesy of the Peabody Awards, licensed under CC BY 2.0 Anthony Bourdain, courtesy of the Peabody Awards, licensed under CC BY 2.0