The preacher is a chef who prepares a meal
Like good cooking, good preaching is local, idiosyncratic, and diverse.
Last year the culinary world lost two of its brightest lights. Anthony Bourdain took his own life in a French hotel, and Los Angeles Times critic Jonathan Gold died of pancreatic cancer. It is hard to overestimate the loss of these two figures.
Bourdain made his name initially as an unremarkable chef and a great writer. His book Kitchen Confidential exposed the strange kitchen liturgies in a New York restaurant, which in Bourdain’s telling was partly a pirates’ galley, partly a form of high art. He found his true calling as the world’s best guest in kitchens across the world. With his shows No Reservations and Parts Unknown, Bourdain brought attention to diverse cuisines. His great gift was his ability to be as comfortable in the finest kitchens of France as he was in the tents of Bedouin hosts. As he played guest, he played host to the rest of us who longed to travel as he did and gain the access he had.
Above all, he was honest. If it tasted good, he let you know. If it tasted bad, or smacked of inauthentic food opportunism, his wrath was of Amos: I despise your fusion bistro. I cannot stand the stench of your avocado foam and truffle oil. Though you offer me your grass-fed bavette, I will not accept it. Food was an expression of truth, and Bourdain hated lies. Food wasn’t just a bodily necessity; it was a holy offering and sacred gift. Bourdain was able to convince us that every corner of the world was full of food that could nourish body and spirit alike.
