  Anthony Bourdain's latest book, Medium Raw, toggles between Bourdain’s bad old days and his struggles with his demons, to his present life. (Ernest Doroszuk/QMI Agency) |
He’s big, he’s ballsy — he’s Anthony Bourdain.
Brilliant chef, acclaimed writer, handsome TV personality, brooding rock star of the culinary world and now ... dad.
In town recently to promote his latest — if not most searing — account of the food world, Medium Raw: A Bloody Valentine to the World of Food and the People Who Cook (HarperCollins), Bourdain the enigma presents yet another astonishing side to his multi-faceted persona: The devout father to 3-1/2-year-old Ariane. And just talking about her sees his craggy face light up with joy.
Bourdain, 54, admits he’s over the top with his marriage to his second wife Ottavia, to whom his book is dedicated, and this tiny little girl who he absolutely adores — and dances with. There’s a chapter in the book describing how he’s doing the twist in a roomful of Filipino nannies, their charges, and he and his little daughter. He admits to being somewhat embarrassed to be awkwardly gyrating in a roomful of children, but it’s a touching and poignant scene, and draws back for a brief moment on the identity of a man who not only defies description, but fights it.
One knows instinctively that Bourdain is a deeply private man who uses his flair for the outrageous and his caustic tongue as a means to deflect, or even to hide who he truly is. A food reactionary whose sneering contempt for aspects of the culinary world is thinly veiled at the best of times, the reality is that Bourdain would not be where he is today were it not for this world with which he has such a love-hate relationship.
And, just to set the record straight, he knows this quite well. Sort of like the heavy person starting the conversation with a fat joke in order to set the conversational boundaries. It’s a fascinating paradox in which Bourdain holds total control.
Bourdain's newest book comes ten years after his classic memoir, Kitchen Confidential, hit the shelves, a tome that alerted the world to the whole subculture of chefs and cooks and, quite frankly, to the perils of eating out. (His book did for the restaurant scene what Jaws did for the movie industry.)
Bourdain’s latest book, which shows him on the cover smartly dressed in a dark suit, a knife in his hands and looking strangely like a young John Diefenbaker, does not let the reader down. It toggles between Bourdain’s bad old days and his struggles with his demons, to his present life. It’s a fat, gossipy read, smattered with more F-bombs than pepperoni on an all-you-can eat pizza, and it expertly tracks his own strange and unexpected voyages from journeyman cook to globe-trotting professional eater of things that range from the traditional to 'what the hell is that and is it supposed to breathe while you eat it?!'
Which brings us to this day, waiting to interview him in the offices of his publisher and, to be honest, we’re bracing for the best but expecting the worst — last time Bourdain was interviewed he seemed at his most brooding, restless self, with a Do Not Discuss list of questions practically nailed to his forehead. Just our luck it was during the breakup of his 20-year marriage, his tussles with Food Network and his struggles with his role as legendary food rock star and an elusive quest he didn’t really quite know what to call.
That and having to slip out occasionally to smoke in front of the restaurant just added to the tension and the deepness of his scowl.
“I don’t really need much,” he said at the time, a tad sadly, “I like my little spot in Hell’s Kitchen. Living out of a suitcase is my life.”
He ended the interview by musing that “perhaps I’ll take off and go disappear into a small village in Vietnam.”
That was then, and Bourdain has certainly lived a thousand times out of his proverbial suitcase. But today is today and the Bourdain we see entering the room is, well, content. Happy and gracious. Seated in front of a small repast of cheese, bread and olives, Bourdain smiles and apologizes for tucking into a quick bite between interviews, quickly offering up his food to share. There’s a newfound softness to his demeanour, a genuine warmth and quiet sweetness to him, which is a direct contrast to his wickedly nasty, deliciously funny book in which some of the most famous names in the food world are skewered with ruthless intent.
It’s a whole new world he lives in now; this former loner has found the sweet spot in his life with his remarriage and his new role as father. He quit his two-pack a day cigarette habit when his daughter was born.
“Wanting a child is easy,” says Bourdain, busy pressing soft cheese between excellent French loaf. “But I’d never felt that I was a suitably healthy person. I would think of fatherhood from time to time...but I didn’t think I was up to the job.” But, he continues, after having made “every mistake” imaginable —it was time. He embraced the role with glee, saying “I never looked back or had second thoughts.”
And — “I was the star pupil at Lamaze class!”
Has marriage changed Bourdain? “The responsibilities of marriage and fatherhood demand certain behavioural adjustments...but my timing couldn’t have been better. I live like a normal person.”
As for his daughter, she’s certainly a chip off the old block. “She has quite a palate for different foods,” says Bourdain with a grin. “She’s pretty fearless in what she likes to eat and her mother has fed her foods that include rabbit.”
The name Ottavia is quite distinct, he’s told. “Yes, she’s Italian, born in Italy. On her mother’s side she’s from the Lago Di Garda area, while her father is from Sardinia.”
Bourdain says “I’m never happier than when I’m visiting her family there, particularly hanging out in the garden with my father-in-law. They’re from the Nuoro region, and I love the country, the pane carasau bread, the sheep’s milk cheese and the famous pasta called malloredus. In fact, we did a piece on it for [Bourdain’s Travel Channel TV show] No Reservations.
Bourdain smiles at the memories. Doesn’t mention once about packing his bags at all.
