My rating: 4 of 5 stars
Anthony Bourdain’s book is a guilty pleasure. Reading his sordid kitchen adventures reminded me of the lasciviousness of Life by Keith Richards. My cousin Violet, a budding saucier, loaned me her well-loved copy and I enjoyed every minute of it. I read it for an hour before bed each night and my dreams were filled with gigantic kitchens and thousands of carrots to to peel and dice. I kept my iPad handy while reading so I could look up the many French ingredients that Bourdain refers to. My favourite chapter though was the one where he goes to Tokyo. Having lived for 3 years in Japan, I know firsthand how completely OCD Japanese culture can be. They would be shocked at the cavalier nature in which I whisk my matcha. Regardless, you don’t have to be a cook or a foodie to enjoy this book, but being someone who can appreciate the complexities of food will certainly help. I plan to borrow Bourdain’s next book.