Many of Anthony Bourdain's circumstances these days surprise him. Until his early 40s, he had a life not unlike many journeyman chefs in New York City: graduate from culinary school, spend 20 years moving around and slowly moving up, drink and smoke too much, dabble or even fully indulge in drugs, never get serious recognition or a healthy bank account. But today, at 53, Bourdain is a well-paid and idolized culinary figure, not for his cooking but for his food and travel journalism. His globe-noshing television series, 'No Reservations,' is in its sixth season on the Travel Channel, he has had multiple best-selling books since his eye-opening debut, 'Kitchen Confidential,' was published nine years ago, and he does a few dozen speaking engagements each year. 'I'm playing in theaters where I used to see bands I worshipped. I don't know that it's appropriate,' Bourdain says. He's speaking from home in Manhattan before flying to Ecuador for an episode of 'No Reservations,' and he says that such talks now comprise more of his income than the TV show and other areas combined. Although he enjoys the appearances and their resultant paychecks, he does not rehearse or otherwise prepare for them. 'I never have any idea what I'm going to say,' he says. 'If I smell smoked salmon and cooked onions, I know the audience is full of restaurant people and cooks, and the evening could go one way. If it's a quiet, distinguished crowd, it will be a very different experience.' Usually clad in his signature black attire, often with a leather jacket and cowboy boots, Bourdain typically tells stories from the stage for an hour or so, then answers questions from the audience. His anecdotes and comments contain the wisdom, contrariness and, sometimes, venom that made 'Kitchen Confidential' such a funny and refreshing read. Among the better lines from a 2008 talk he gave at Hudson Valley Community College in Troy, N.Y.: 'When someone cooks for you, they are telling you about themselves. They're telling you about their own personal histories, they're telling you about what their mothers made for them, their ethnic history, their national history, the history of their region, what they like. And they're giving you the purest expression of that by offering you food.' 'I thought I could drink, but every 90-year-old Russian grandmother can drink my sorry ass under the table and drive me home while rolling a cigarette.' 'The first person to eat a snail was one hungry son of a bitch. Some starving, country-ass (expletive) is so hungry he's watching a lone snail crawl by and he thinks, 'Well, maybe by slathering enough garlic butter on it, I can choke it down.'' On Rachel Ray: 'Aspiring to mediocrity is not a good thing, and that's what pisses me off. It's not OK to buy prechopped onions in the supermarket. It's just not OK. Garlic powder is not food. . . . It's her world, I just live in it. And on what she spends on (nail care) in a week she could have me killed, and she probably will. But at least I can watch her neck slowly disappear on television.' His vituperation for Food Network stars can be breathtaking. Referring to Sandra Lee, host of 'Semi-Homemade,' he wrote: 'This frightening Hell Spawn of Kathie Lee and Betty Crocker seems on a mission to kill her fans, one meal at a time. . . This is simply irresponsible programming. Its only possible use might be as a psychological warfare strategy against the resurgent Taliban -- or dangerous insurgent groups. A large-racked blonde repeatedly urging Afghans and angry Iraqis to stuff themselves with fatty, processed American foods might be just the weapon we need to win the war on terror.' Except for a few renegade actors -- Mickey Rourke comes to mind -- celebrities in America tend not to talk that way about others in their field. It just isn't done. Yet Bourdain says neither his agent nor his publisher nor Travel Channel executives have asked him to tone it down. It is, after all, his brand. Further, he says, 'All of them are so big and so successful, it's clear I'm not hurting their business. I'm not looking to get a Food Network show. I'm temperamentally disinclined to work at the United Nations. Nobody expects me to morph into Bobby Flay. I made it this far because I wrote an obnoxious and profane book.' Bourdain softens when he talks about his daughter, Ariane, who is now 2-and-a-half. She can be heard chattering in the background during the interview. 'She's going to be a weird kid. She already has been to Italy multiple times, and she's got more frequent-flier miles than most adults ever get in their lifetimes,' he says. 'It thrills me when she grabs an olive (or) when she turns out to like risotto, which she does. She also likes sardines,' he says. But, he adds, 'There's no convincing your kids to like something they don't want to like. If you're a foodie or you're trying to be all sophisticated about what your kids eat, it's not going to work. What it comes down is your kids are going to choose what they see you eating.' He'd rather she didn't become a chef. 'God, no,' he says. 'I'd feel perversely proud but also horrified at the same time.' (Steve Barnes can be reached by e-mail at sbarnes@timesunion.com. Visit his blog at http://blogs.timesunion.com/tablehopping.) 