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Anthony Bourdain

A​​nthony Michael Bourdain was an American chef, author, broadcaster, and travel documentarian who starred in programs focusing on the exploration of international culture and cuisine. Born in New York he was one of the world’s first and most influential celebrity chefs. He became known for his bestsellers Kitchen Confidential: Adventures in the Culinary Underbelly (2000) and A Cook's Tour: In Search of the Perfect Meal (2001).

Bourdain's first book, a culinary mystery Bone in the Throat, was published in 1995. He paid for his book tour but was not successful. His second mystery book, Gone Bamboo, also performed poorly in sales. By that time he was already an established professional and became an executive chef at Brasserie Les Halles in Manhattan in 1998.

After two published crime novels Bourdain also began contributing magazine articles. A piece for the New Yorker, Don’t Eat Before Reading This (1999), formed the basis of his breakthrough book, the bestseller Kitchen Confidential (2000).

The book itself is more a collection of essays than a solid narrative. "For all the rock’n’roll, the easy, sleazy charm, the guy wrote like a poet and, as he got older, he just got better."

Bourdain's career followed the success of the book. He began working with television producer Lydia Tenaglia and broadcasted A Cook's Tour on The Food Network in 2002, when his next book of the same title, combining food and travel, came out.

Anthony Bourdain went on to write books: a collection of anecdotes and essays, a historical investigation, and even the graphic novel Get Jiro! which he co-wrote with Joel Rose. All of them were quite successful.

His articles and essays also appeared in many publications, including The New Yorker, The New York Times, The Observer, Gourmet, Maxim, Esquire, etc. His blog for the third season of Top Chef was nominated for a Webby Award for Best Blog in 2008.

Anthony Bourdain also was the host of the popular Emmy and Peabody Award-winning television show Parts Unknown.

But there was another side to Bourdain's life.

Bourdain was born in New York and grew up in New Jersey. His mother, Gladys, was an editor at the New York Times, and his father, Pierre, an executive at Columbia Records. By his own account, they exposed him to great music, film, and literature, and holidayed in France where his interest in food was sparked.

Bourdain was a 1978 graduate of The Culinary Institute of America and a veteran of many of New York city’s kitchens during his career. Most of that time he was addicted to drugs and moved among the semi-criminal community that characterized the restaurant scene of the time. The chef's relationship with money was also complicated.

“I don’t want to sound like I’m bragging about this,” he told Wealth Simple, “but the sad fact is, until 44 years of age, I never had any kind of savings account. I’d always been under the gun. I’d always owed money. I’d always been selfish and completely irresponsible.”

So, as many notes, Kitchen Confidential was the original handbook for toxic masculinity in the kitchen. But with the appearance of this book, Bourdain tried to be the best version of himself, and he succeeded.

However, Anthony Bourdain ended his life by committing suicide in a hotel room in Paris.
years of life: 25 June 1956 8 June 2018

Voice

Series

Quotes

Anahas quoted2 years ago
A GOOD FRIEND OF mine, about a year into his first chef's job, had a problem with one of his cooks. This particularly rotten bastard had been giving my friend a ride for quite a while: showing up late, not showing up, getting high at work, behaving insolently and fomenting dissent among his co-workers. Convinced that the whole kitchen revolved around his station, his mood swings and his toil, he felt free to become a raving, snarling, angry lunatic - a dangerously loose cannon rolling around on deck, just daring his chef and his co-workers to press the wrong button.

After a no-show and a late arrival and yet another ugly, histrionic incident of insubordination, my friend had no choice but to fire his cocaine-stoked and deranged employee, telling him, in classic style, to 'Clean out your locker and get the fuck out!'

The cook went home, made a few phone calls, and then hanged himself.

It's a measure of what we do for a living that this kind of a thing could happen - and that my friend, on his next visit to my kitchen, was greeted with gestures of mimed strangulation, cooks and waiters holding a hand over their heads, sticking their tongues out and rolling their eyes up, tagging my friend, to his face, as 'serial killer' and remorselessly teasing him.
Anahas quoted2 years ago
My friend had worked for me for years, and had, at various times, caused me much grief and frustration. Since becoming a chef in his own right, however, he'd taken to calling me at intervals - to apologize for his past bad acts, telling me that when faced with managerial problems of his own involving personnel, or 'human resource difficulties', he'd seriously regretted all the pain and worry he'd caused me.

Now he knew, you see. He knew what it was like to be a leader of cooks, a wrangler of psychopaths, the captain of his own pirate ship, and he wasn't liking that part of the job very much. Now somebody was dead and there was, inarguably, a causal relationship between the event of the troublesome cook's firing and his death by his own hand.

'The guy was fucked up anyway, it's not your fault,' was the standard conciliatory remark. It was about as sympathetic as any of us could get.

'Guy would have done it sooner or later, man. If not with you, some other chef.'

That didn't quite cut it either.

'The guy had to go,' is what I said, the kind of cold-blooded statement not unusual for me when in chef-mode. 'What? Are you gonna keep the guy on? Let him talk shit to you in front of your crew? Let him show up late, fuck up service . . . because you're afraid he's gonna off himself? Fuck him. We're on a lifeboat, baby. The weak? The dangerous? The infirm? They go over the side.'

Typically, I was overstating the case. I've coddled plenty of dangerously unstable characters over the years; I've kept on plenty of people who I knew in the end would make me look bad and become more trouble than they were worth. I'm not saying I'm Mister Rogers, a softie - okay, maybe I am saying that . . . a little bit. I appreciate people who show up every day and do the best they can, in spite of borderline personalities, substance abuse problems and anti-social tendencies; and I am often inclined to give them every opportunity to change their trajectories, to help them to arrive at a different outcome than the predictable one when they begin visibly to unravel.

But once gone - quit, fired or dead - I move on to the next problem. There always is one.
Anahas quoted2 years ago
I care about my crew and their problems.

I go home Saturday night with a sulking cook getting crispy around the edges on my mind? Someone in my kitchen talking about going AWOL, exhibiting symptoms of the dreaded martyr mode? My weekend is ruined. All I'm going to be thinking about for every waking moment is that cook and what I can do to fix the situation. I'll lie there on the bed, staring into space, paying scant attention to the TV, or what my wife is talking about, or the everyday tasks of bill paying, maintaining a home, behaving like a normal person.

I don't know, you see, how a normal person acts. I don't know how to behave outside my kitchen. I don't know the rules. I'm aware of them, sure, but I don't care to observe them anymore because I haven't had to for so many years.

Okay, I can put on a jacket, go out for dinner and a movie, and I can eat with a knife and fork without embarrassing my hosts. But can I really behave? I don't know.
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