Anthony Bourdain passed through the sieve of humanity recently with both accolades and "I told you so"s. He developed a seedly, tattoed, chain-smoking, underbelly-of-life, Kerouac-inspired public persona, even though he lived the privileged life of celebrity and wealth. Part beat poet, part philosopher, part Lower East Side. Some say he was a cook who couldn't, so he wrote about it. He was a vagabond, for sure. You could see signs of the depressive personality in his presentations... grim expressions, smoking, drinking, pensive poses... always searching. Occasional laughter but never much joy or bliss. Perhaps he found it. Perhaps not.
He did show us the world and its food. That's something.