Anthony Bourdain: Much More Than a Great Travel Show Host

I never knew Anthony Bourdain, but I felt my heart stop in my chest when I read my husband’s text message. I was stopped in a drive-thru line of people trying to get their last-minute morning coffee and breakfast.

“You’re lying,” I snapped and responded through tears.

“Why would I lie about this? It’s all over the news. Anthony Bourdain is dead.”

My heart was a caged bird trying fervently to escape from my chest via my throat. I pulled over to the side of the road and tossed my iced coffee into a trash can. I knew I would have no appetite that day, even for coffee.

Why the World Will Always Mourn Anthony Bourdain

I had never met Anthony Bourdain, and yet, I knew him well. I knew him well enough to know that as much as he may have been known for “eating cool stuff,” his greatness had little to do with the food he ate. 

As an avid traveler stuck at home, I flip through the latest Netflix options or scroll through my Instagram for any spark of wanderlust. I find myself unreasonably angry. I’m angry every time I see yet another show which is obviously trying to mimic Bourdain’s shows. 

Nowadays, every food travel show boils down to eating on camera and “foodie-ism.” Host after host looks at the camera as they shove hot dogs, fermented fish, and foie gras into their faces. People in restaurants stand up over their meals to get the “perfect shot”. It’s too much. Bourdain inspired people to eat beyond their comfort zone and to find joy in food. However, I cannot help but think he would be turning in his grave if he knew his legacy of creating a great travel show was reduced to an almost pornographic obsession with burgers, donuts, and colossal milkshakes. 

I want to scream. “Don’t you see? It’s never been about the food!” Try as folks might—no one will ever replace Anthony Bourdain. Only a bleak, hollow, attempt at re-creating the shockwaves of joy that Bourdain emitted radiates from my television.

I feel like a child whose dalmatian passed away and whose father brings home a labradoodle hoping I won’t notice. “They’re both dogs, right?” The labradoodle may bark and love chew toys, but it’s no dalmatian. 

I, as well as others, mourn the loss of Anthony Bourdain mostly because we know that there will never be another like him. There will most likely never be another great travel show like his.

People will remark that Anthony Bourdain changed the world, and he did. However, most people who declare this sentiment get the reason for Bourdain’s success completely wrong. To reduce this man simply to ‘that guy who did the great food travel show’ is to never have known him at all.

Anthony Bourdain is not an icon because he ate on camera. He is beloved because of who he ate with and the places that he chose to eat at. 

Bourdain used his platform to draw attention to history time had forgotten. Without his show, who would know of the secret war with Laos? The Armenian Genocide? The impacts of colonialism in the Congo? Bourdain did so much more than create a great travel show. He created a more informed audience and was the finest history teacher that any of us could hope to have. Bourdain was the history teacher that all students deserve. 

His status gave him the ability to speak with notable politicians and talents, and he certainly did—most notably with the former president Barack Obama. But fans adored him for another reason. Bourdain was  enamored with the opportunity to sit with regular people. He was never too good for any type of person. All who have met him felt comfortable calling him “a real friend.” Each week he presented a much sought after local experience. I dare say he gave a local experience that was more meaningful than trying to recreate it by actually visiting the country featured in the episode.  

Just as much a social engineer as a cook, he really sought to build bridges. He visited some of the most heavily stereotyped destinations in the United States—places that aren’t typically synonymous with travel and tourism. He did not intend to show how different these places were, but to show their similarities. Who else would shoot a show in West Virginia? The Bronx? Rural Louisiana? The Rust Belt? Suddenly, places so heavily stereotyped and reduced to cheap shots on the internet made their way onto his renowned and respected program.

For the first time, viewers were able to see a complete picture of these places. He filmed not with the intention of teaching and preaching to those he visited, but of listening. As host, used his travel show as a vehicle for others to listen too—and to learn from them as he sought to learn. The result was almost always impactful for his audience. 

I admired Bourdain immensely for his taste in cinema and literature. Learning that he applauded the work of William S. Burroughs was all of the proof I needed to consider that he walked that fine line between madness and genius, as many famous artists and writers do. 

He allowed his eccentric artistic appreciations to influence the artistic angles and aesthetics of his own work—whether that be his interest in “Japanese tentacle porn” or murderous rampages from his favorite action films. He never cared what others might think, least of all his own confused crew members, which was hilarious to watch.

You cannot replace somebody who was so unapologetically himself.

He never claimed to know it all. In fact, his tattoo, “I’m certain of nothing,” exemplifies that notion. The world will never have another Bourdain, in some part because there is nobody with his level of humility. Every travel enthusiast claims to be an “expert” while Bourdain was completely comfortable and confident, even with his years of travel experience, to assume the role of a perpetual learner. He was authentically curious, candid, and humble. His ability to not see himself as an expert, but as a novice to all experiences undoubtedly made him relatable and reliable as opposed to preachy and elitist. 

He allowed his own genuine interests and curiosities to guide his expeditions. THAT is what made him successful, along with his uncanny ability to be true to himself. I always admired that he was so at ease with everyone with whom he broke bread. Where most people take comfort in a script or plan in case matters go awry, Bourdain has admitted several times the great anxiety he felt whenever a producer would suggest “staging” a scene for the show. 

So, as someone who was mercilessly teased for being myself, I still mourn the loss of Bourdain. So many of us still do. He showed us the most remote parts of the world, and yet, covertly inspired us to turn a mirror on ourselves. Beyond where to visit and what to eat, each week he solidified the importance and strength of being true to oneself. The message I, and so many others, received went far beyond the culinary, or even the travel-related realm. Watching his travel show was the first time that I ever felt it was okay to be different. I had never seen a public figure talk confidently about their insecurities and imperfect past. So much of my ability to talk openly about my own past and insecurities comes from seeing his strength. 

And so, while others tip back a cocktail or whip up a meal in honor of the late, great, chef—I do not. I pick up my pen, and I write. I’m a writer by nature, and after all, so was Bourdain. I write about the things that bring me joy and solace, and I don’t worry about what others think about my creations. That is the best way perhaps to honor such a man: with small acts of defiance and creativity. He was never the flashy, braggadocious type anyway.

If someone seeks to emulate the genius of “Uncle Tony,” you have already missed the point. It is an unattainable feat. However, we can all stand to gain a lot by celebrating not just what is on the dinner table, but who is around it as well. What is their story? What scares them? Or brings them joy? And, finally, how do they like their eggs cooked?

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