Anthony Bourdain

About Anthony Bourdain's suicide there are too many questions and no answers, a lot of sadness and no resolution.

I read his original article in the New Yorker in April of 1999.  The first sentence of that article is: "Good food, good eating, is all about blood and organs, cruelty and decay." From that moment, I was a fan.  That article soon morphed into his first non-fiction book and he was surprised by its success.  I saw him at Book Passage in Corte Madera that summer, on a book tour to promote his work. He was tall, skinny, awkward, uncomfortable standing in front of a crowd talking.  But once he began, once the stories started taking shape, you could see him relax and feel his confidence rise.

A year or so later he was a guest chef at Left Bank restaurant in Larkspur.  While we waited in line for the doors to open, Bourdain strolled past us and I got to chat with him for about fifteen seconds. Again, he was a little embarrassed, it seemed, that he was the reason we were all there. I asked why he wasn't in the kitchen and he answered "Are  you kidding, I don't cook at these things, I come to eat!"  He had not yet begun his TV shows but for those of us who love reading and cooking and eating, he was already an icon of all three of those passions.

 
If you ask many people what their dream job would be, many would answer "unlimited travel."  That would be my answer. To watch Bourdain do just that, to see him in so many countries and for us to vicariously enjoy the food, the people, the culture was to get a peek at other sides of the world. He was funny and irreverent but always respectful of the differences in each place. Sometimes an episode had little to do with food but we watched anyway because his was the job we wanted, he was going to the places we wanted to visit. He was a great storyteller and an amazing entertainer. 

It is almost impossible to imagine the darkness one must experience to commit suicide. The despair, the depression, the utter desolation that must envelope a person. There must be so much pain. We never saw that, of course, which makes his death that much more incomprehensible.

Many of us will miss Bourdain's wit and wisdom, the incredible adventures he willingly shared with us and his infectious laugh.  We will miss the writing he had yet to do and the experiences he had waiting for him.   

He wrote: "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." 

Anthony Bourdain certainly left his mark on me.

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