As a travel enthusiast, food lover, and wannabe adventurer, I have been a longtime fan of Anthony Bourdain, and his show No Reservations on the Travel Channel. As a kid, I had gotten my wanderlust fix from National Geographic magazines and the oh-so-campy Samantha Brown, but when Anthony Bourdain burst onto the scene in 2005, my middle school self was both scandalized and delighted by this man who frequently cursed, chain-smoked, and brazenly ordered things like sheep brains and ate them without blinking. He was enchanting, daring, worldly, and confident—and I thought he had the best job in the world.
Fast-forward eight years, and I still find him as fascinating as I did in middle school. He is entertaining, intelligent, and often completely ridiculous, and his biting wit and brutal honesty have kept me fascinated for years. He’s a fantastic television host, and an even better writer. This past summer, I picked up a copy of his memoir that launched him into the public spotlight, Kitchen Confidential: Adventures in the Culinary Underbelly, and though I am normally a fiction-reader, this was one of the best books I’ve read in a long time.
Bourdain is brutally honest: he unflinchingly discusses himself and his long, meandering path to becoming a chef, not leaving out any unsavory details. He admits to carrying nunchucks and a samurai sword at all times through his college years, gleefully recounts stories of snorting lines of cocaine off kitchen counters while on the job, and describes what it is like to work in the so-called culinary underbelly. Not a single person is spared, himself included, as he goes through his personal history, from restaurant to restaurant, admitting to his own mistakes and reexamining what it was like to work at each establishment. A culinary career, so it seems, is not for the faint of heart—Bourdain illustrates the good, the bad, and the completely illegal aspects of what it means to work in a kitchen. Throughout the memoir, people are stabbed, burnt, punched in the face—even pantsed—while on the job. He discusses his career, his failed marriage, his addiction and subsequent time in rehab.
His honesty permeates his storytelling, and his sardonic sense of humor and ridiculous experiences makes the book hard to put down. Kitchen Confidential kept me thoroughly entertained while also educating me– I now know never to order fish on a Monday, ask for my meat well-done, or god forbid, send anything back to the kitchen. Also, it’s good to know that I would never be able to make it as a chef, or a restaurateur; my dreams of culinary school as a back-up plan were dashed twenty pages in.
But, regardless of my lack of a culinary future, I’m still a food lover with a willingness to try anything once—something Bourdain and I have in common. His sense of adventure, openness to new things and ideas, and biting wit make him one of my favorite authors, and certainly my favorite television host. Kitchen Confidential made laugh out loud in public, taught me how to appreciate food even more than I already do, and illuminated the truth of what it means to be a chef, both in the U.S. and internationally. Even if memoirs, or food, or non-fiction aren’t your thing, this is one book not to miss.