Anthony Bourdain Was the Most Interesting Man in the World
An appreciation.
I wanted his life. I don’t think I’m alone in that. He went places you and I will never go. He ate things you and I will never eat. He met people you and I will never meet. He lived. Anthony Bourdain lived so much that the idea of him dying seems completely preposterous.
And yet here we are. Pick any superlative you want for him. He was, of course, an excellent chef. If you haven’t made his scrambled eggs, do yourself a favor and correct that. He was a wonderful writer and enormously popular public speaker. He presided over what was, in my mind, the best travel show in TV history (No Reservations and Parts Unknown shared a production company, a host, and a logline, so by all means consider them one and the same).
But his greatest accomplishment, of course, was his life itself. I mean, honestly, WHAT A GODDAMN LIFE, MAN! He lived a scant 61 years, but my god, were those years densely packed. Watching him trot around the globe week to week engendered only the warmest of envies. And, in death, Bourdain takes with him a collection of memories and experiences so immeasurable, and so vast, that they dwarf any book or TV episode he leaves behind.
It is that life, more than his work, that millions of people (myself included) seek to emulate: a life that is hungry, thirsty, curious, honest, compassionate, rowdy, horny, all of it. That life has almost certainly inspired the very hipsters that Bourdain himself openly derided, but that’s a pretty minor complaint when you think about it. He was a man of true pleasure—pleasure in food, pleasure in sex, pleasure in friendship, pleasure in love—and wanting that for yourself is a welcome sin.