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[title]This Saturday, I shared caramel popcorn, a diet coke and some nachos with Anthony Bourdain. Obviously, this choice of meal wouldn’t be my first.
I walked into TONY, a new film about Bourdain’s life, expecting to learn four new things about food I can't pronounce, and to walk out with enough material to philosophise about a complicated – sometimes hardcore, if I may – man.
I was wrong on both counts. TONY isn't really about the places he travelled to, the food he ate, or the larger-than-life persona we've built around him through his shows and the endless Bourdain-isms on social media. It's a film about one summer in his life. That coming-of-age, traumatic, heartfelt summer had me thinking about something else entirely: the impact Bourdain had on how I see the world.
Room for the unexpected
One of Bourdain's most interesting episodes (Parts Unknown, Season 4, Episode 6) has him landing in Iran, visibly confused by the warmth he finds in a place he'd only ever heard bad things about.
I remember watching it while planning a drive from Seattle to San Francisco down to the last detail. I’m talking bookmarked restaurants, a dozen open tabs, a running mental list. After that episode, ALL of it had to go. Except, maybe, my flight and a hotel booking. Everything after? Pure discovery. What finds me finds me.
I still think about that drive… stumbling onto the beach town of Carmel, the Danish pastries in Solvang, a little seafood shack whose name I've forgotten but whose sea urchin dish I haven't.
The art of finding out
People often get this wrong: Bourdain wasn't a food critic. He was a travel and food show host who happened to eat a great deal, but critiquing was never the point. He was in perpetual, cheerful defiance of his comfort zone, mostly through challenging his taste buds.
There’s some objectivity to taste – sweet, salty, sour, spicy. But food is also memory: childhood, holidays, places. Emotional eating’s a big part of many of our lives, like when sadness is met with sugar. Bourdain pushed me in the opposite direction: toward the feeling that comes after tasting something new.
There's not much I'd be scared to eat (I wouldn't touch dog, though). Kangaroo in Melbourne, babi guling in Bali, why the hell not? Watching Bourdain sometimes love and sometimes hate things made me realise the gift of it.
It really does baffle me when people order their own cuisine while travelling. An alarming number of my fellow Indians do this every third day abroad. I've heard someone rave about dal makhani… in Tuscany. Trust me, the smallest place can hide the tastiest food. Bourdain proved that throughout his career.
Talk, talk, talk
Story time: I'm walking through an unfamiliar city, no plans, ordering something I've never had. Something was still missing.
This was a few years ago. I landed in Goa after a red-eye, around 5am, starving, sleep-deprived. My driver took me to the nearest food spot he knew of. A small temporary settlement where Konkani locals were making bun samosas, living there because their families worked on the airport's renovation. Divine. I've never eaten anything quite like it since. I look back on that meal fondly, but with some regret.
I wish I'd spoken to the old lady who cooked it.
Bourdain had a rare gift for turning food into story, using it as a vehicle for something larger than the meal itself. Watch any episode of No Reservations, Parts Unknown, Layover – he's always mid-conversation with someone.
Cut to me in Old Delhi, a few days ago. This time, I made sure I talked – made sure the man behind the counter knew me, and I knew him. We built a small relationship. The jalebi was delicious.
Conversation is what keeps us alive. Don't believe me? Walk into any local dhaba and you'll find plenty of people eating alone, eyes glued to their phones. A global problem, but one we're uniquely equipped to solve. And in India, of all places, we should be doing this more than anyone else.
What we see on screen today is Bourdain, the cultural icon. But to me, he's simply a way to live. And perhaps the whole thing comes down to this: Be free. Wander. Eat the weird thing.