Padilla: Bourdain-ing Anthony

SOME people have become a verb and an adjective when they have substantial influence in one’s life whether good or bad. One of mine is Anthony Bourdain. When finding ourselves in not-touristy places in the country, my friends and I would be engage with the cooks or food servers about the food and eventually about the locale and then their lives. We’d call it Bourdain-ing, the verb. Because we all cooked (or so, we think), we would always remember to limit it to 4 ingredients or followed his 6-step art (7, to include cutting) of grilling a rib eye. One time I watched a male friend cook steak for dinner and when he started poking the meat on the grill my mind went: oops, not Bourdain-like (the adjective).

Though he came from one of the best culinary schools, Bourdain never showed off his culinary training while watching street food being cooked in front of him. He’d just watch, ask about the food, about the place, the cook, and anything that comes to his mind which would bring the places he visited right into our homes. His schooled palate was not cheeky as he advised that when ordering food at a foreign place he said it was wise to order what the locals were having or to point out at the next table and order “what she is having”.

“It’s those little human moments that are the ones that stick with you forever, the random acts of kindness,” he said. I did this while we were in Marawi City but my palate burned and was no match to the locals who seasoned everything they ate with chili-hot palapa.

Bourdain hanged himself by the belt of his bathrobe in his hotel room in France. When I read about it, I was in a hotel room too and the WHY in my mental billboard loomed larger than Bench’s outside my window. Why would someone with such an astute mind, exciting life, effortless insight of social issues, and compassion for the oppressed -- kill himself?

This time Bourdain served me a not so savory but familiar dish called depression. I didn’t know it was in his menu too. But no one really knows how it should be plated or how often one has been eaten by this searing emptiness. Bourdain just got lost in it. Though it leaves a bad taste in the mouth, he left us a reminder to be more mindful and compassionate because it’s not always about the food but the conversations we bring to the mind that would matter to whom we share the table.

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