Anthony Bourdain's Favorite Books Novels & Stories

“Oh? And how do you find it?” “Depressing. But it was either that or War and Peace, so.” A low chuckle left his lips. “My personal recommendation would be Crime and Punishment, but we do have more to our library than Russian literature, you know.” Dani played with her soup, changing the topic. “You said you had some business to attend to in the area?” One of the servants returned, carrying a plate of steak. It was perfectly cooked to her request, garnished with shallots and carrots.

I was hoping that he didn’t have to go back to work so quickly, but I know his work is important, vital to the man I love and I wouldn’t want to ever change that. So, I settle in to make some coffee and skim my fingers over the bookshelves lining the walls in the spacious living room. I’ve never seen Gavin with a book in his hand and it surprises me that he has such a large collection. Charles Dickens, Ray Donovan, Marie Barnes, Nicholas Sparks, the authors range from one genre to another and somehow I know that most of these couldn’t be Gavin’s. I couldn’t imagine him reading a full length novel like Great Expectations. He thrives on action, solving problems, making strides in whatever he i

She inquired, cutting her fingernails. "Any homemade food" he replied, he didn't care if she knew how to cook or not. He didn't marry her to be his cook or maid. He would cook if she didn't know. He grinned at the thought. He would be the chef and served her on the bed and dining room. "Your favourite book?" "ARB101 and Adiya Amir by Um_royhan" he replied. "Awww, who could take you like a romance sucker" she snickered.

He asked. "I have a lot of favorite foods," I murmured, taking care to pick up the glass of wine and hold it over my lips again. "Be more specific.” "Hm..." he raised his eyes up, reflecting. "Your favorite savory.” "Coxinha," I replied. "Your favorite pasta?” “ Lasagna.” "The dish you would eat for the rest of your life without complaining?” “Free-range chicken.” Flynn laughed. "Is it serious that you like this?” I made an offended expression.

"I used a chocolate wine to sauté the chicken. "Interesting. I love what it does to the taste." Dad winked at Brynne. "So you're a gourmet?" "Thank you, but not really a gourmet. I enjoy it and learned to cook for my dad when my parents split. I have these marvelous cookbooks by Rhonda Plumhoff on my e-reader. She links her recipes to popular books. She's famous from where I'm from. I just adore her recipes." He tilted his head at me. "Smart son I raised."

And then she saw the books. She gasped, her eyes widening and her hand covering her mouth. Leather-bound volumes with gold-embossed titles: Escoffier's Le Guide Culinaire, a culinary Bible. She knew the name. Every chef did. More treasures followed: Essentials of Italian Cooking, and tomes of French, Japanese, African, Latin American cuisine. The collective knowledge of culinary masters from around the world. A lifetime of learning, pressed into the spines right before her eyes. She felt her throat tighten so much that she was breathless for a moment.

“I’m decent at it. I can get by in the kitchen but it’s not my favorite place. I’d rather be reading a good book.” “That’s why you’re a librarian?” She nodded. “I have a maid who cooks so you don’t have to worry about that, and I do have my own library that you may check out.” Her eyebrows rose in interest. “What kind of books do you read?” “I have some biography, history, and science books but my enjoyment comes mostly from the classics.” “Greek literature?” “And Shakespeare. Along with others.”

I've always loved reading because it's such an escape from reality. I stifle a yawn, and turn the page. “Are you hungry?” he asks. I realize I haven’t eaten since breakfast. “Starving.” “I could make us some dinner.” Anthony gently disentangles himself from me and stands. “If you want to help, we could cook together. I seem to remember you mentioning to Martha an interest in learning how to make tomato sauce from scratch.” “You remembered that?” I’m touched by this small detail. Anthony isn’t usually the sentimental type.

“I know what you mean. I had one too—it was a family outing for us, going to the library. My mom insisted my brother and I read books if we wanted to play video games. I was that nerdy kid who actually preferred reading to gaming. I guess it carried over into adulthood.” Fiona’s gaze focused on his face, and one side of her mouth smirked. “Nothing wrong with that.” Handing the book back to him, she continued to investigate the books lining the shelves. “Do you have a favorite in here or in one of the boxes?” Chris chuckled. “Well, having a degree in English Literature, you’d think so. But I love so many of them. I’m partial to the classics—Keats and Shelley, Lord Byron, Shakespeare…”

"I know it's easy for me to say, but try not look back at the past." Byron laughed with a touch of bitterness. "You're right. I'm sure my father will just bring some new troubles into my life, so I can focus on present trauma instead." "You're such a sweet ray of sunshine! How about we get some pizza?" "Sure!" Byron agreed at once. He often enjoyed caviar wrapped in the finest crepes prepared by his personal chef or making his own gourmet creations such as eggplant lasagna or sauteed scallops. But once in a while he craved fast food burgers or a good old fashioned pepperoni pizza from some humble family restaurant. It might have been temporary insanity, but Emily could see where he was comin