I spent this past summer with Anthony Bourdain.
He was with me as I drove 140 miles roundtrip twice a week to Syracuse to teach a news reporting class. As I flew to Palm Springs and New Orleans for work trips. He was with me as I unpacked boxes from a move, built patio furniture and replaced the floor in my kitchen. As I walked the four blocks to meet my sister, brother-in-law and tiny niece for sunset ice cream jaunts on Park Avenue.
Hear me out. There may be no better person to have in your ear during an unusually chaotic summer than an irreverent, reticently famous chef-turned-author-turned-TV star who died by suicide in the prime of his life. Bourdain’s voice, reading his audiobooks in my car and in my airpods, was the companion (or perhaps, distraction) I could not otherwise find. The ghost in the machine.
And before the release of the Bourdain quasi-biopic “Tony” last August, I wanted to revisit his work. I credit my friend Abby Quatro, who shot the photos accompanying this piece, with the nudge to listen to Bourdain’s audiobooks rather than reread the physical copies. Normally I prefer to smell the pages and feel the weight of a book, but my time was at a premium — and this was different. It felt like welcoming back an old friend. In those hours of listening, I was reminded of wisdom and insight that still applies, even from a past era.
Concurrently, an interesting thing was happening in the local food world.
Ryan Wilson, a 20-something influencer (and Rochester native) who goes by @dodgydines, began filming restaurant reviews around town. His videos quickly caught fire after he semi-panned a popular Brighton spot in June; from there, he had a captive (if savage) audience; there to watch when he had crumbs on his face, when he found a hair in a pizza slice or took the audience along to Sunday dinner at his grandparents’ house.
And, whether they loved, hated or rolled their eyes at him, Wilson got people talking. Among the most-asked comments: Is he a journalist? A chef? Is he “qualified” to review? To the surprise of my restaurant friends, I played devil’s advocate. Did it matter? Wilson was spending his money to eat, his time to record and edit the videos and his energy to keep it going all summer. Not many people have that kind of commitment to, well, anything. And in 2026, you don’t need to be a “New York Times” food critic to start reviewing. You just need an iPhone, a mic kit and some knowledge of editing.
Give me these videos over someone who is only saying good things because their friend or cousin ‘knows a guy.’ Or because a company is sponsoring them to say something. I’d rather watch Wilson’s hot takes or an unedited car review from someone on their lunch break or even a lip-smacking, wide-eyed mukbang from Ivana (@upstate.eats) — because at least it’s genuine.
It’s almost impossible to critique something here, even constructively, because it’s the world’s biggest small town. Your roommate is a server. Your friend’s boyfriend is a bartender. Your aunt owns a restaurant. That barista you forgot to tip is a top Reddit contributor and recognized you.
Make no mistake, I’m empathetic to defensive reactions from restaurants. The job has long hours, there are consistent staffing and cost challenges and restaurants are also often the targets of unfair guest criticism and bullying. For fine dining to work — even succeed — in this economy of higher food costs and higher menu prices, all parts of the ecosystem have to agree on higher standards and consistency. And that means the dining community holds the restaurants to a certain echelon.
In the introduction of his 2001 memoir, “A Cook’s Tour: In Search of the Perfect Meal,” Bourdain wrote, “The entire food business is show business. It’s what my friends and I have been doing our whole lives.”
I’ve seen enough talent here in town to know the hands in our kitchens are talented; they are up for the challenge. They spend years on the line; chopping, washing, prepping, experimenting, bonding, breaking, building.
Bourdain, again, sums it up best in “Kitchen Confidential,” his first book that catapulted him to fame:
“I’m asked a lot what the best thing about cooking for a living is. And it’s this: to be a part of a subculture. To be part of a historical continuum, a secret society with its own language and customs. To enjoy the instant gratification of making something good with one’s hands — using all one’s senses.”
I watched “Tony” with two friends who had never read Bourdain’s books, and had only seen a few episodes of his TV shows. No spoilers, but at best — “Tony” is an interesting indie flick that made me want to eat lobster thermidor and visit Cape Cod. At worst, it’s like the writers ripped out all the pages of “Kitchen Confidential,” balled them up and picked them out of a hat. A real Frankenstein job in terms of creative license. The inaccuracy made me squirm at times.
But again, I walked out playing devil’s advocate. Because now, my friends were so taken with Bourdain that they were looking up his books and TV shows. And if an “unqualified” voice on social media or a Frankenstein’d biopic makes people pay attention and brings them back to the source (the books, the takeout counter, the dining room), that’s a win for everyone.
In the pages of CITY’s November issue, we give our annual snapshot of the local food and bev industry. It’s by no means an exhaustive account, but it’s a small bite that hopefully brings you back — and sends you out looking — for more.
The post EDITOR’S LETTER | Consider the lobster thermidor appeared first on CITY Magazine. Arts. Music. Culture..
