Anthony Bourdain, celebrity chef, author, and television personality, has made a career out of cultivating the image of a foul-mouthed blackguard. Whether he's slagging vegans, attacking ascendant Food Network stars, or choking down "Fear Factor"-type meals in exotic locations, Bourdain never fails to surprise, entertain, and even outrage his audience. A 28-year veteran of great and not-so-great kitchens in New York City, Bourdain's rise to fame began in 2000 with the publication of his "obnoxious memoir" (his words), "Kitchen Confidential." Success followed on the heels of success. In 2001 he made his television debut with Food Network series "A Cook's Tour." Bourdain's two-season long relationship with the Food Network, which he documented in the companion book to the series, was famously uncomfortable. Taking most of his crew with him, Bourdain broke with the network in 2002 and signed on with the Travel Channel, where he launched "No Reservations" in July 2005; the show is now in its sixth season.

In the past decade, Bourdain hasn't been in the kitchen more than a handful of times, but he's racked up some serious frequent flyer miles. On the road for almost 10 months a year, he spends much of his off-air life in airports, passing from one gig to the next and trying to shoehorn a family life into his schedule. We caught up with Bourdain on one of his infrequent trips home to New York City, where he was filming for an upcoming episode of "No Reservations" before hitting the road for Washington DC, Miami, Rochester, Columbus, Ohio, and then a quick hop to China and Vietnam. The reluctant television personality took a few minutes to talk about his upcoming lecture at the Auditorium Theatre, the meaning of work, the menace of junior foodies, and the prospect of finding himself back under the same corporate umbrella as the Food Network. An edited transcript of the conversation follows.

City Newspaper: The lecture circuit is a pretty old-fashioned way of reaching out to the public, particularly since your television show comes into the house at least once a week, not counting reruns. What can folks expect from your visit to Rochester?

Anthony Bourdain: Y'know, it's pretty chaotic. It depends entirely on what the audience is like. I don't know what I'm going to do until I get out there and take a look at the audience. If the room smells of smoked salmon, and onions, and garlic, and there are a lot of restaurant industry folks in the audience, I tend to loosen up, and it's going to be a rowdier, looser, funnier, and frankly better show.

I really just kind of speak extemporaneously about food and travel and take questions from the audience. Your audience always wants to hear the hits. I try to tailor my remarks to whatever I'm thinking about, or angry about, or happy about, or passionate about that day. That said, there are some consistent themes to what I've learned traveling the world, and what I've observed traveling the world, and telling stories. And if all else fails, there's always dick jokes.

When was the last time you put on chef's whites? And how did that go?

Probably for the show I did last year or the year before where I went back to my restaurant with Eric Ripert and worked my old double-shift at my old restaurant. It was tough. I was 52 at the time, and out of practice, and out of shape, and certainly no smarter or faster or more alert than I was 10 years earlier. Y'know, it's a young person's game in the best of circumstances. Even if I'd been working every day, even if I'd been in practice, it's a little old to be working the line. I made it through the shift. I made it through the 12- or 14-hour day without bringing shame to my clan, but would I have been capable of showing up the next morning at the same time and working the same shift? I don't think so, to be honest.

Was there a moment when you realized that it was time to leave the life of a chef behind?

In my case it was kind of decided for me: I was giving interviews half the day. Y'know, when there were journalists in a holding pattern at the Starbucks across the street, waiting to come over to take my picture and interview me for this book, this obnoxious memoir that I'd written. It took quite some time. I continued to work every day. I figured that this can't last. It's a fluke. I have to keep my day job here. But it reached a point where I was spending more and more of my time out of the kitchen, and it quickly reached a point where I could no longer pretend that I was the working chef of the restaurant. I was just in no way helpful, and if anything, probably annoying to the people who I was working with.

I always hated chefs, when I worked with chefs, who had anything else going on in their lives. I would resent it if they were going to swank parties, or going on TV, or even had any kind of a normal life. Your crew doesn't want to see that. Your crew wants to see the chef suffer longer and harder than they are in order to inspire them. And clearly I'm suddenly living the vida loca. That's not good for business.

You published "Kitchen Confidential" in 2000, but about a year before that you published an article "Don't Eat Before Reading This" in the New Yorker. How did that article come to be?

I'd written it for the New York Press, a free paper. I wanted nothing more than a hundred bucks for it and to entertain a few of my fellow chefs, and cooks, and bartenders, and waiters. I thought it would be a funny "inside baseball" kind of a thing. I had no more expectation than that. I was very excited when Sam Sifton, who is now the food critic for the New York Times, back then he was the food editor of the Press, said, "Yeah, we really like the article and we're gonna run it." But I just kept getting bumped every week, every week, every week for some other piece. And then, it was really a moment of drunken hubris, I sent it unsolicited to the New Yorker with no expectation they'd actually run the thing. So, when they did I had a book deal within two days.

I'm not an idiot. I was 44 years old and not getting any smarter or faster or better as a chef. The timing was good. I got a lucky break here, and I made the most of it. I'd already fucked up in every way a person can fuck up. I tried pretty hard not to fuck up this opportunity and make the most of it.

In your book "The Nasty Bits," there's an essay in which you state that you would rather put "habitual masturbator" on a visa application than "television personality". You are now six years into "No Reservations." Do you feel more comfortable with the role?

Nah, not really. It still feels sort of shameful. It's easy work. I know what work is. My expectations of what work is, my concept of work or a profession was formed by 28 years of standing on my feet really working. I still feel that whatever it is I do, I feel a little sheepish about calling it work. Especially as I'm leading a really good life. I have fun in life, whatever my job is. Television personality just doesn't sound like a job to me. You can call me whatever you want. I like making a living, and I like my life, and I'm raising a family. So, I'll live with celebrity chef, or television personality, but in my heart of hearts, I'd put it on the same level as lighting director on porn film, habitual masturbator, or aspiring arsonist.

It sounds like there was a come-to-Jesus moment, when you realized that the opportunity to capitalize on your success was available to you. Did you wrestle with it when it suddenly became apparent that you could do "A Cook's Tour," for instance?

There was a moment when I realized: this "Kitchen Confidential" thing is selling a lot of books. I was making my publisher money. I might actually be able to sell another book. To me, everything was a means to an end. I'd never really been anywhere. I spent my whole life standing in New York kitchens for the most part. I'd been to France a little bit when I was a kid. I'd been to the Caribbean for vacation. I'd been to Mexico for a week or two. But I hadn't been anywhere, really.

I saw this - television, writing, everything - as a means to a really romantic end: the ability, the freedom, the time, to see the world. To satisfy my curiosity about places I'd only read about or seen in movies. It was that simple. It's an easy price to pay, being on television. Writing for me is pretty easy. Being on television is even easier, compared to standing in front of a griddle on a busy brunch shift.

It sounds like it's difficult to keep a decent family life going with your schedule. And you've got a 2-year-old?

Yup. And I'm working really, really hard to find a balance there. You'll notice a suspiciously high number of shows in and around Italy where my wife is from, so I can bring my daughter, and spend time with family. I'm working pretty hard to get it right.

There are occasional references to your daughter on your blog. What's her diet like these days? What have you gotten her to eat?

She eats whatever she wants, basically. There's no convincing a kid to eat, y'know, sushi. They're either going to see it and make a grab for it and go "yum yum," or not. We eat pretty well around here, and we eat pretty diverse stuff. And we're in Italy a lot, and where we eat, I guess by American children's standards, some unusual stuff. So, she's as likely to grab olives, or anchovies, or pecorino cheese as the usual grilled cheese sandwich or banana. She's exposed to a lot of things. I would never try to convince her to eat - I think it's annoying, foodie kids. "Oh, look at little Hunter, he adores sushi...." Who needs that? Grown-up foodies are annoying enough, I don't want to make a junior foodie. I do feel proud when she grabs a chunk of pecorino, or something that I love.

What's the strangest thing she's made a grab for?

I think anchovies. Blew my mind. She likes oily, little fish. Olives, she loves olives. Tripe goulash. That blew my mind. I was very proud. But the next day she wants a slice of American cheese. As much as I try to convince myself that she's a budding genius, every parent thinks that.

Anything else you'd like to tell me today. Anything you'd like to close out with?

No, but I'm sure that I will be talking about how Scripps Howard just bought my network. The parent company of the Food Network just bought my network.

Is that going to create some discomfort for you, considering your relationship with the Food Network?

Um, yes. We are about halfway through shooting season six, ratings have never been higher, but I think... I'm definitely taking a wait-and-see [approach]. I'm not happy about sharing a hot tub with Guy Fieri, is what I'm saying.

Given recent developments, I would say that anything could happen. I'm giving the whole enterprise some serious thought. I know that my crew and I are really into pushing this season as far as we can go creatively. We are doing an entire show in black and white, dubbed in Italian. We really want to mess around, push creatively, rip off a lot of our favorite directors, have some cool people on. We got Bill Murray in one of the shows. So, what next in view of our new parent company? Hey, it's - what's that line from "The Mickey Mouse Club"? "Hey, it's Wednesday, it's anything-can-happen day!"

Anthony Bourdain

Friday, November 20

Auditorium Theatre, 875 E. Main St.

8 p.m. | $39.50-$49.50 | rbtl.org