Anthony Bourdain and The Price of Introspection

He wasn’t so much of a cook as he was a social critic. In fact, his cooking is by far, the least interesting thing about him. Having grown up in a rough upbringing tainted by depression and drug abuse, Anthony Bourdain catapulted to international fame later in life (in his early forties) through his bestselling memoir Kitchen Confidential.

The world was allured by the raw honesty and shrewdness of this ‘no-name’ chef with barely any pedigrees to speak of. His disdain towards celebrity chefs (ones who never worked in a professional kitchen before but call themselves chefs on TV) was made clear. His disdain towards well-done steak was even clearer. What was also clear was his intent to squeeze out every last drop of money he could from this ‘fluke success’ he had on TV. He was in under no illusion that his international fame was somehow well placed or well deserved. No part of being famous corrupted him. Because amidst all the Michelin starred dinners and VIP treatments, he continued to battle with the darker sides of his past, a battle he eventually lost in 2018.

One the one hand — the world fell in love with Bourdain precisely for his depth of thought. His humor was often dark but real, his criticisms often crass but true, his observations often offensive but obvious. But this depth of thought and complexity of mind was what likely pushed him towards his eventual act of self-destruction.

Introspection is a double-edged sword. Do too little of it, and you become a banal, superficial, ‘Paris Hilton-like’ character with no character to speak of. But do too much of it, and it can lead you to unnecessary misery. The world is indeed a more interesting place thanks to individuals like Bourdain — the ruminators and thinkers with a knack for illuminating the bottom depths of reality with blazing clarity. Nietzsche was like this. As was Orwell, Freud, Camus, Descartes, and all the great thinkers alike (yes, I just bundled Bourdain with Descartes).

Hardships are not necessary to bring you closer to reality, but the great majority who have managed to convey the greatest truths were those who indeed went through significant hardships.

How could it be any other way? Only an outcast is pushed to learn why people outcast. Only a victim of war wishes to fathom why any person would kill another. Only an addict would understand its vicious cycle. Only the neglected has a first-hand education on indifference. Mental scars are indeed the price one pays for bumping into the harshest corners of reality. But such scars bring with them an elegant level of understanding. And through those understandings, the great minds above remind us of the shades of grey necessary to ground us against the deceptive bright colors of superficiality.

“The unexamined life is not worth living” — said Socrates some 2,400 years ago. But then again, they also say that “Ignorance is bliss”. So, does that mean living in bliss is a meaningless life to live? Must we suffer, introspect, and ruminate to truly have lived a worthwhile existence? Such deep ponderings, I think, are the very ones that can incite an infinite loop of unnecessary introspection. The very kinds that Bourdain was indulging in when he committed his gravest, and final mistake.