Commentary: My mother, Anthony Bourdain and why food is everything

The other night, I genuinely screamed, scaring my husband and shocking my little girl.
“What!? What is it?”
“Anthony Bourdain killed himself!” I shouted.
“Who is Anthony Bourdain?” asked my Israeli man.
The truth? I don’t really know. He is a cooking saint I heard about through my mother. One of the many kings and queens of the kitchen she has revered. And like a lapsed Catholic, or a Jew who has laughed at, or spit on, or sat in awe and in ignorance of