On “Tony”
How a Young Chef Found His Voice in the Kitchen.
Vincent Tropepe chefvpropepe@gmail.com
I don’t remember the last time I went to the movies, but I do know that this movie holds a special place in my heart. The film is about a friend, a fellow chef, a champion for the underdog, and a man who told stories about food, culture, and the elements of life that mattered most. I am talking about Tony , a biopic based on one of the most formative periods in the life of Anthony Bourdain. For many people, Bourdain was the man they watched on television, the author of Kitchen Confidential , or the storyteller who traveled the world in search of food and culture. For me, he was something more personal: he was a friend, a fellow chef, and someone with whom I shared food, laughter, and conversations that I will always remember. As I sat in the theater before the movie began, I watched people slowly trickle into their seats. Some carried copies of Kitchen Confidential , while others arrived with friends and talked excitedly about their favorite episodes of No Reservations . They were fans of Tony. They knew him as the guy on television, the writer, the chef, and the traveler. What they did not know was the man behind the public persona, the person I was fortunate enough to call a friend. Tony and I would get together two or three times a year, and our ritual was simple: we would cook for each other and talk. There was no elaborate plan or need for anything formal. Food gave us a reason to sit down together, and conversation did the rest. Those meals became small but meaningful moments of friendship. Tony would text me, “Pepe, tell me what you need?” I would send him a list of ingredients, and when we got together, I would cook something reminiscent of my Nonna, such as Eggplant Rollatini. Tony, in turn, would make something provocative, usually something that challenged my idea of what food should be. One time, he made me a fried veal brain sandwich. When Tony tasted my eggplant rollatini, his eyes rolled back in his head. He sat back in his chair and said, “Pepe, this would
Photo credit Chef Vincent
make every Nonna in Italy cry.” Mocking him, I sat back in my chair, pointed toward the veal brains, and replied, “Tony, this would make a person cry for other reasons.” Tony, always ready with a quick and completely legitimate defense, responded, “Pepe, how bad can it be? It came out of a vat of oil.” It was, admittedly, a valid point. I still was not a fan, but I ate it anyway—not with enthusiasm, but I ate it. That was Tony. Food was never simply about eating; it was about curiosity, humor, challenge, and connection. The movie Tony focuses on Anthony Bourdain during a formative period that would ultimately change the trajectory of his life. What makes the story compelling is that the audience already knows where Tony will eventually end up. We know the writer, television personality, chef, and cultural storyteller he will become, but the young man in the film has no idea what his future holds. He is still trying to figure out who he is and where he belongs. The film therefore becomes more than a traditional biopic. It is a story about identity, insecurity, ambition, addiction, friendship, and the difficult process of becoming the person you were meant to be. Dominic Sessa’s performance as Tony captures that complexity. Playing a young Anthony Bourdain is not simply a matter of imitating his voice, mannerisms, or personality. The actor has to portray the contradictions that existed inside
Hospitality News / National Edition / Sept 2026 / Page 36
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