Anthony Bourdain was my friend. I’m certainly one in thousands of people to say that since his death. It’s true, though. Learning of his death felt like losing a dear old friend. Like someone we haven’t seen since high school, but follow on social media every day, was suddenly gone. Mr. Bourdain allowed us to see the world through his eyes, and what a world he showed. I’ll never forget the episode with Barack Obama in Vietnam, and countless others. From No Reservations to Parts Unknown, we traveled with him.
Anthony introduced me to noodles in Singapore, raw seal with the Inuits, Margo Price in Nashville (thank you very much!) and The Black Keys in Kansas City.
I have four episodes of Parts Unknown left to watch. It’s not that I’m savoring them, rather, it’s painful and I have to be in the right mood. I find myself looking for signs of darkness and depression in him, and I find that they are there to be seen in his face and heard in his conversations. There’s also a copy of Kitchen Confidential sitting on my nightstand waiting to be read. I put a box of tissues on top to avoid looking at it just sitting there. Maybe I’ll take it to read when we are traveling this summer. Maybe not.
Anthony Bourdain taught so many the joy of new cultures, different foods. I understand your sadness that he is no longer with us. He had a great talent of introducing us to new countries