“If I am an advocate for anything, it is to move. As far as you can, as much as you can. Across the ocean, or simply across the river. Walk in someone else’s shoes or at least eat their food. It’s a plus for everybody.”
~ The Late Anthony Bourdain
June 8, 2018, was not a good day for me. Like many others around the world, I wept and mourned a man I’d never met, but who made such an enormous impact on my life as a traveler and a foodie.
I have followed Anthony Bourdain since his Les Halles days. I read Kitchen Confidential and all his subsequent best sellers. I faithfully watched his shows on the Travel Channel and CNN’s Parts Unknown. He had an effortless style and swagger about him. He spoke with people from all spectrums of society – from political activists to food truck owners to heads of state. I especially loved the Vietnam episode where President Obama dropped in at a hole-in-the-wall to eat a bowl of rice noodles with Bourdain.
When he asked a family of five in Japan what they would choose for the last meal of their life, all five responded with a resounding, “Mochiron, soba. Soba noodles, of course.” Right then, I started eating soba noodles more often. On my first visit to Osaka, I hunted down the eateries Bourdain mentioned, including a tiny 6-seater sushi counter tucked away underneath the train tracks of the East Exit. When I told the owners Anthony Bourdain had recommended their place, they asked, “Who? Anthony Bourdain?” I was immediately disappointed. Then their faces lit up. “Ahh. Tony-san? Oh, yes. We like Tony-san.” On my recent trip to Sapporo, I had the best bowl of ramen at a noodle shop with a wall poster of a much-younger Bourdain, captioned “Anthony Bourdain came here.”
When Bourdain and Eric Ripert performed a hilariously fun show in Las Vegas, I was there. I laughed out loud watching an episode of Ripert in the Sichuan province as he grimaced and almost spit out his very spicy pork stew while Anthony Bourdain egged him on. He called his friend a coddled Michelin-starred chef. Poor Ripert was sweating profusely and his face was beet red.
Bourdain traveled the world fearlessly, introducing me to cultures I will never experience in my lifetime. He inspired me to be relentless in seeking destinations out of my comfort zone. By sharing stories of people’s lives so distinctively different from mine, he instilled in me a sense of culinary adventure – eat what the locals eat without judgment.
He once said, “If I had to die midmeal anywhere, it would be Tokyo. If you were to ask most chefs if they had to have house arrest for the rest of their life in one city and eat all of their meals there, just about everyone I know would pick Tokyo.” On my next trip to Japan, I am going to savor a bowl of soba in his honor.
