I Love Anthony Bourdain

It's been said that women of all ages are swooning over Anthony Bourdain. Is it the debonair gray hair, so hard to pull off with panache? The blue jeans with shirt tails hanging out ever so casually? The allure of a man comfortable in his surroundings no matter where he takes himself, courtesy of CNN?

As for me, my own husband has enough pizzazz to keep me from swooning over Anthony Bourdain's physical appeal. It's more Bourdain's honest mind and it's transparent quality that is so engaging. What started off as a show about world cuisine has morphed into a serious commentary about life and death; the local cuisine simply part of the social fabric where the dramas, traumas, and celebrations of life take place. 

Bourdain takes the metaphor of food - we all need to eat to survive - and uses it as a springboard to shine a light on the underbelly of the worlds into which he voyages. He also reminds us that local culinary creations, shared meals, also strengthen bonds of caring and connectedness.

Famous for his off-the-cuff confessions, my favorite is when he embarks on a rickety train that winds precariously around Himalayan mountain tops; he recommends a hefty dose of prescription pills before boarding this train to heaven. 

He even gets away with saying "shit" on the show with no bleeper masking its sound. He has finally reached the pinnacle, that place of no return.

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