Normally when someone is brilliant at something I'm mediocre to merely pretty good at, I console myself by saying, "Sure, that's a brilliant chef, or a gifted singer, or whatever, but I bet they can't write as well as I can," and I feel better. Because while it would be nice to be able to create brilliant meals, as opposed to adequate ones, or to be a professional singer-songwriter instead of a decent choral alto, I'd rather be a writer than a chef or a professional musician.
But this doesn't work with Anthony Bourdain. Not only is he far superior to me in front of the stove, I have a sneaking suspicion he's a better writer than I am, too, though at least the gap isn't as large. The Nasty Bits (2006) is a collection of his essays on food, travel, and traveling to eat, and it's snarky and wonderful and often made me hungry.