“Any restaurant people in tonight? I smell onions. I see haunted, nine-mile stares…”

Anthony Bourdain freely admits he was a journeyman chef who got lucky by publishing a damning expose of the crime, drink and drug addictions behind the scenes at top New York restaurants.

Now he writes books, both non- fiction and crime novels, and indulges passions for exploring, beer-drinking and exotic foods while making travel documentaries.

There’s nothing more appealing than a witty reformed bad boy, so it was a larger-than-usual City Books audience that packed the lushly-carpeted Hilton function room to hear him speak.

Like a pantomime villain, he selected a rant against vegetarian travellers from his new “nasty, bitter, evil” book to perform, ducking and weaving about the stage.

As the tirade against disrespecting ancient cultures’ meat-preparation techniques built, he bent his lanky frame backwards, finally hurling himself forward while yelling the ultimate expletive.

In fact, he was more thoughtful and respectful than his image suggests: it emerged that memories of filming in Beirut at the moment war hit the Lebanon still cause him pain. Future programmes will explore Kurdistan and the Congo.

With poetic regret he described the sense of flow and immediate gratification of cooking well and satisfying 400 diners in one evening.

Despite parenthood, greying hair and a dignified suit jacket, Bourdain expressed his opinions as fluently and nostalgically as ever: “Ah. Tokyo sushi. It’s like dropping acid for the first time.”