Godfather of grub
Anthony Bourdain shot to fame after publishing his memoir about life as a New York City cook.
Bourdain’s fame, however, was already well-established by then, with his picaresque portrayal of life in the New York restaurant industry.
“I love the sheer weirdness of the kitchen life – the dreamers, the crackpots, the refugees, and the sociopaths with whom I continue to work,” he wrote in the New
Yorker in 1999, “the ever-present smells of roasting bones, searing fish, and simmering liquids; the noise and clatter, the hiss and spray, the flames, the smoke, and the steam.”
The New Yorker article and books caught on not just because of the vivid writing, though they were also full of tips for the unwary diner.
Never order fish in a New York restaurant on Monday, Bourdin warned in the
New Yorker. It may well be the leftovers of Friday’s delivery for the busy weekend.
Tuesday, however, he suggested as a good day for dining out – the chef was likely to be back from his day off and kicking off the week with creative dishes.
As for those ordering well-done meat, he wrote, they were likely to get the most miserable-looking cuts that the chef would be ashamed to serve to other customers.
Bourdain’s last Instagram post came after his arrival in France, and four days before his death.
“Light lunch. #Alsace,” he wrote beside a photograph of a plate of choucroute – the region’s traditional pickled cabbage – with bacon, pork and sausages.