Lessons from Anthony Bourdain

Anthony Bourdain is a legend in the food world for a reason. When he died by suicide in 2018 the food world mourned collectively in a way we don’t often see. Famous chefs from all over the world shared stories and pictures of how he’d touched their lives, helped their careers, mentored them, or just been a friend. I admit, I always felt a small connection to Bourdain since he attended Vassar College, my alma mater, before dropping out and enrolling in culinary school. I’ve watched most of his shows and read his most famous book, but only recently started to consider how much I can learn from him. Today would have been his 64th birthday, and June 25th has come to be known as Anthony Bourdain day with those same chefs and friends paying tribute in their own ways. This is my attempt, not only to pay tribute, but to continue to understand why Bourdain was so special, and what I can continue to learn from him.

Back in the late 90s, while working as a cook in NYC, Bourdain’s story Don’t Eat Before Reading This, a behind-the-scenes look at some of the less savory aspects of restaurant cookery sky-rocketed him onto the scene and led to a book deal. The book, Kitchen Confidential, immediately became a bestseller and remains one of the most well-known and widely sold books of its kind. Some would argue it’s the only book of it’s kind–a sort of memoir slash insider commentary, providing a previously untold look inside professional kitchens. My friend recently reminded me that the article that launched his career started as an attempt to entertain himself and his fellow cooks. He simply wanted to publish the story in one of New York’s daily rags so he could bring the article into the kitchen and give his line cooks a laugh. The story only became a hit because those daily publications turned him away and his story ran in the New Yorker instead. After the book came out in 2000, the rest was history, his career was launched. 

The book made the restaurant-visiting public so giddy for the same reason it made Bourdain enemies in the food world. He’d told dirty trade secrets, literally dirty, and revealed industry practices that most of us would have rather not have known. This pattern of pointing his attention, and as a result his audience's attention, on stories no one else is telling, and highlighting the ugly parts of our world continued up until the day he died. There’s no doubt that Bourdain has been so successful because he’s an excellent storyteller and an excellent writer but what he chose to tell stories about was just as important. He showed everyone to look behind the curtain and not take something at face value. This urge to show his audience the dirty, dark, unknown parts of an industry, a city, a country, a culture is no more apparent than in his series, Parts Unknown which ran from 2013 until his death in 2018.

In each episode Bourdain visits a different city or country to eat their food of course but also to talk to locals and try and understand that place. The Mexico City episode is a perfect example of how Bourdain refuses to even discuss food before he’s set the scene. The opening scenes of the episode dive into the murderous streak in Mexico where thousands of citizens are killed each year, primarily as a result of cartel warfare. But then, instead of writing off Mexico as a lawless land run by gangs, money and drugs he introduces us to Mexicans that have their own stories to tell: a mexican chef, Eduardo Garcia, standing up to corruption, a journalist, Anabel Hernández, risking her life and living in isolation while reporting on the cartels and government corruption. This is political journalism with food as a sort of cover. His audience came for the tacos but they got a whole lot more.

I think what is so great about this strategy is that it’s challenging to his audience. Unlike so much food coverage that strives to introduce new dishes and cuisines to a primarily white crowd by dumbing them down or comparing them to things familiar to America, Bourdain dives right in. When it comes to food, he’s fearless and curious. Always willing, and more often than not eager, to eat dishes that would repulse his American fans. Whether it’s brains or blood, tripe or snails, Bourdain is 100% down. There’s no doubt that he seeks out the offal because he likes it just as he looks for the weird, wacky and unique characters because he feels a sort of kinship with them. Those are his people and their stories aren’t often being told. As for his audience, he doesn’t coddle us, he shows us the reality of a place and lets the people of that place do the talking.

He also rarely passes judgement or tells us how we should feel about a thing. Take the Spain episode where Bourdain visits a bullfighter’s family. Bull-fighting has been controversial for a long time as it’s considered by many to be glorified animal cruelty. On the other hand it’s a tradition that dates back hundreds or thousands of years, depending on who you ask, and is considered an art form by those who practice and enjoy it. Watching the bullfighter dance is undoubtedly impressive but when it comes time for “the deed” the cameras don’t look away. Right before the bullfighter delivers the killing blow Bourdain tells us via voiceover: “no matter how big, how strong, how scary, for this intrepid reporter who’s seen many animals die for his dinner, this part is never easy.” Then, in slow motion, we watch the bullfighter drive his sword deep into the neck of the bull all the way to the hilt. Cut to beef stew and Tony making jokes about how the bull is in a “better place.” It would be easy to write this off as Bourdain making light of the death of the animal and essentially condoning the practice. The next bit of voiceover tells us where he stands on bullfighting: “Me, I’d happily see an end to it tomorrow. But there is no denying the terrible beauty of a very complex tradition.”

Instead of coming down strongly on one side of a controversial topic, we are forced to consider both sides and make up our own mind. Yes, it’s beautiful watching the bullfighter dance and yes, is gruesome watching an animal die. Yes, it’s delicious, eating that same animal, and yes, death is where all meat comes from whether we watched it happen or not. This ability to live with ambiguity and hold two competing ideas at once is a powerful skill. It requires practice but it’s worth it. Whether it’s bullfighting, or any other divisive issue with multiple vantage points, a person who can sit with the both-and mindset is better equipped to navigate the world, today more than ever.

Bon Appetit recently became infamous for its racist and oppressive structures resulting in lack of equity and the exploitative use of its employees of color. The former editor-in-chief, Adam Rapoport, resigned after racist pictures and remarks he’d made were made public. Before that all happened he’d posted the phrase “Food has always been political” on instagram, white text on a black background as a sign of solidarity with the Black Lives Matter movement. It’s true that food has always been political, but the irony is that Bon Appetit, one of the most powerful brands in food media hasn’t been. They’ve been running safe stories to appeal to a largely white and wealthy audience. Highlighting stories and recipes that don’t challenge their audiences beliefs, politics, or their taste buds. Now that the reckoning has come, Adam Rapoport and other problematic leaders are being replaced, Bon Appetit is starting to make steps to change that approach and do justice to the “Food has always been political” slogan. Certainly other brands are getting the message and starting to do the same. I think on his birthday I just wanted to point out that Anthony Bourdain was doing it before it was cool. 

As a food consumer, food lover, and wannabee food writer, I look to Anthony Bourdain for inspiration. I continue to learn from him even though he’s gone and even though I never had the pleasure of meeting him. His books and his shows are not just full of lessons on food and travel but how to responsibly consume them. I’m sure I’ll continue to learn from him over the years but the takeaways I’m holding onto now are: 1) Food and place are inextricably linked. You cannot fully understand one without the other. 2) You don’t always have to pick a side. You can sit with both at once and you’ll be better for it. 3) Listen more, talk less. 4) “Weird” foods aren’t weird, they are just new. Try it, you might like it. 

Happy birthday, Tony, and thank you for these lessons.