*This was first published on my personal blog yesterday after this particular episode randomly came on tv. I remembered the first time I saw it way back when and how the viewing was different in light of his passing.
https://buchorodenberger.blogspot.com/2020/02/bourdain-in-retrospect.html
It’s rare that we get to witness the happening of someone or some event and know that it’s the beginning of a fundamental shift in that particular industry or part of time. Season 6, episode 18 of “Anthony Bourdain: No Reservations” titled “Where it All Began” is one of those lucky time capsules.
It's been a year and a half since his suicide and it’s weird to not have new episodes of this or “The Layover.” It’s weird to not get his regular patios of “Gonzo journalism” meets punk rock “fuck you” meets dining of all social castes. For me, everyone else who’s attempted this kind of culinary reporting pales in comparison to his style and approach to illuminating the unbreakable bonds that exist between the history of nations, the blending of their taste buds, and the politics of their region. Whether you agreed with his personal politics or not, it’s hard to disagree that he made those connections clear with every episode.
But with this one…this is the sheen of a fresh-faced cook, head full of near jet-black hair and most assuredly full of swagger. A fresh-faced cook who’d just released “Kitchen Confidential,” to equal parts angry letters and joyful agreement from peers in his industry. He is followed around by a documentary crew, filming him as he works at Les Halles in NYC and begins traveling to other kitchens across the globe per invite of their head chefs.
Most notably, we see the moment that Bourdain and long time friend and chef Eric Ripert meet for the first time. How many of us are given that kind of opportunity, that kind of permanent reminder of the initial moment a deep and lasting friendship takes hold and makes roots in our soil? What a fucking gift that must be, to have that memory and to have it also exist on film to be relived.
But it shouldn’t be of any surprise as to why those that came after him rang more hollow in many ways. If you compare the filmed Bourdain of the year 2000 with that of the Bourdain from the filmed Bourdain of 2018, you find that he is, at least on camera, the same person. There is the same walk, the same body language, the same love of pouring the ugly truth out from his mouth, regardless of what anyone else may have thought of its veracity.
I don’t really idolize people. I may wish that I had their talents or wish that I’d created or achieved whatever they’ve successfully done, but idolization isn’t high on my list. Perhaps higher-than-average respect is the best descriptor. But Bourdain comes close for me, as do a few others who have passed in the last decade. They have left indelible marks through their words and their works and, at least with Bourdain, I find myself being split in two equally: both informed and entertained.
And he was one of the early ones to bring the world of the chef and the line cook into the public eye. No frills, no bullshit, just an honest approach to a job held by an untold number of people across the world and always with the same kind of mentality.
