Dear Anthony Bourdain
In Memoriam

I was seventeen years old when I read your writing for the first time. It was the summer of 2000, and I had just finished my junior year of high school. You blew me away. Let me tell you why.

Since I was a child, my passions in life have been two-fold: the arts and creativity, especially the written word, and food. Truly much of the bonding and connection within my immediate family has been through food. Many of the members of my family are accomplished and adventurous cooks.

We would often try different restaurants, reading reviews and purchasing Zagat guides, paging through cookbooks at Black Oak Books (RIP). Living in Berkeley during the golden heyday of Alice and her Chez Panisse has steeped me in this culture, and way of thinking ever since I was tiny. I would tell people who asked that I wanted to be a chef when I grew up.

Then you came along. Cussing, ripping the shiny veneer away from the back of the house, and telling us all how the kitchen really worked. Reading Kitchen Confidential that summer made me realize that I did not want to be a chef, but that I did love food. More than just loving food, you helped me see that it is possible to see food as an art and to write about it. Really, you taught me that my passion in life is one-fold and that food can be written about and celebrated creatively. I’m sure there were other authors before you who wrote about food, but for me, you were the first.

You celebrated it. You were honest. You didn’t give a fuck. As a teenager, I worshipped that. I loved you. Over the years I would always smile as you popped up here and there. First, on the Food Network, then having issues with Food Network for being too ‘raw’, then leaving the Food Network, then landing at CNN. No matter where you were, you always kicked ass. You never gave a fuck, and that was who you were.

Early this morning, the news exploded- Eric Ripert found you dead by your own hand, in Paris. You were in the middle of filming the next season, and you were just 61. My phone started to explode with texts from friends who knew how much I loved you, and for how long. Eighteen years is a pretty long time.

As I thought back on all of the memories and times I pored over your words, I realized that the best tribute I could give you is this. Writing about you. It has been so long since I wrote something like this. I’m glad I did.

I would say Rest in Peace, but you hated peace. You were not peaceful, and you left quite a mark on this world, and on me. So I will say this, you left us too soon, and you will be missed. Rock and roll into paradise and beyond, you fuckin’ legend.

💔