Better to Fail Gloriously ✨

What Anthony Bourdain Taught Me About Taking Chances, Starting Over, and Trusting the Journey

“Sometimes the bravest thing you can do is simply try. — Anthony Bourdain

Chef Anthony Bourdain

There’s something about June that feels hopeful.

Maybe it’s the longer days, the farmers markets bursting with color, or the smell of freshly cut grass drifting through an open window.

Or maybe it’s because summer always feels like a fresh start.

A new season.

A chance to begin again.

Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about Anthony Bourdain and one of my favorite quotes from him:

“It’s better to try and fail gloriously than to not try at all.”

Every time I hear those words, they stop me in my tracks.

Because if I’m being honest, there have been plenty of times in my life when I almost didn’t try.

Times when I questioned myself.

Times when I wondered if I was too old, too late, too inexperienced, or simply not good enough.

Moving to New York City.

Starting The Artful Gourmet.

Launching a podcast.

Creating YouTube videos.

Applying for dream jobs.

Pitching magazines.

Putting myself out there creatively.

None of it came with a guarantee.

And that’s exactly why it mattered.


Anthony Bourdain Wasn’t an Overnight Success

One of the things I admire most about Bourdain is that his success story wasn’t neat and tidy.

For years he worked in restaurant kitchens, often struggling, often wondering what was next.

Before he became a bestselling author, television host, and one of the most respected storytellers in the world, he was simply a chef trying to make a living.

Then, at age 44, everything changed.

His book Kitchen Confidential became a phenomenon and launched a second act that nobody could have predicted.

Imagine if he had talked himself out of writing it.

Imagine if he thought it was too late.

Imagine if he never took the chance.

The world would have missed out on one of its greatest voices.

And that’s a lesson worth remembering.

Just because something hasn’t happened yet doesn’t mean it never will.


Curiosity Is Greater Than Fear

One of Bourdain’s most famous quotes was:

“Travel isn’t always pretty. It isn’t always comfortable. Sometimes it hurts. It even breaks your heart. But that’s okay.”

I think that quote applies to life just as much as travel.

Life isn’t always comfortable.

Building a business isn’t comfortable.

Changing careers isn’t comfortable.

Starting over certainly isn’t comfortable.

But growth rarely happens inside our comfort zone.

The most meaningful things in my life have happened because I was willing to get uncomfortable.

Not because I knew exactly what would happen.

But because I was curious enough to find out.

Bourdain approached the world with curiosity.

He sat down with strangers.

He tried unfamiliar foods.

He visited places most tourists would never go.

He listened.

He learned.

He stayed open.

What if we approached our own lives the same way?

What if instead of focusing on what could go wrong, we focused on what we might discover?

Progress Isn’t Always Visible

One of the hardest things about pursuing a dream is that progress often happens quietly.

You put in the work.

You show up.

You keep creating.

And sometimes it feels like nothing is happening.

I’ve felt that way more times than I can count.

But then I look back and realize something important:

The growth was happening all along.

The connections.

The skills.

The experience.

The confidence.

The opportunities.

They were all building beneath the surface.

Much like a garden in spring.

The seeds don’t bloom overnight.

But they’re growing.

Even when you can’t see it.

That’s why I think summer is such a beautiful reminder to keep going.

Everything around us is proof that growth takes time.

Spring Vegetable Soup

A Bowl of Soup and a Fresh Start

Whenever the seasons change, I find myself drawn back to simple recipes.

Food has always been my way of slowing down and reconnecting with myself.

This Spring Minestrone Soup is exactly that.

Fresh peas.

Tender zucchini.

Green beans.

Herbs from the garden.

Bright lemon.

A little Parmesan.

Simple ingredients that come together to create something nourishing and comforting.

And honestly?

It feels like a metaphor for life.

A handful of small things can become something beautiful when given enough time.

The same is true for dreams.

Spring Vegetable Soup

Serving Size:
6
Time:
45 mins
Difficulty:
intermediate
  • 2 small carrots, diced
  • 2 celery stalks, diced
  • 1 yellow onion, chopped
  • 2 small zucchini, diced
  • 1 small butternut squash, diced
  • 1 bunch escarole, chopped
  • ½ cup peas, frozen
  • 1 tablespoon basil leaves, chopped
  • 1 tablespoon parsley, chopped ¼ cup Parmigiano Reggiano, grated
  • 6 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil, plus extra for bread and for drizzling on soup
  • 4 quarts chicken stock
  • 1 small ciabatta bread
  • Sea salt to taste
  • Pepper to taste

Directions

  1. Sauté carrots, celery and onions in a large stock pot over medium heat, for approximately 5 minutes, making sure that you stir the vegetables while they cook
  2. Add chicken stock to the pan. Increase the heat to high, cover the pan, bring to a boil and then reduce the heat to medium-low. Cook for 10-15 minutes.
  3. Slice bread into 1” thick slices. Brush slices with the additional olive oil on both sides and place in a sauté pan over low heat. Turn bread slices once and cook until they are golden brown. Place bread in a tray and lightly sprinkle with sea salt. Set aside.
  4. Add butternut squash to the stockpot and cook for 3 minutes.
  5. Add zucchini and peas to the stockpot and cook for 3 more minutes.
  6. Add escarole, basil, parsley, salt and pepper and cook for 4 additional minutes.
  7. Remove two ladles of soup from the stockpot and puree in a blender, then return the pureed soup to the pot (the puree will thicken the soup). Stir and cook for 1 minute, then turn off the heat.
  8. Add some grated cheese into the soup and stir. Ladle soup in individual bowls, drizzle oil and sprinkle additional cheese.

The same is true for healing.

The same is true for starting over.

Serve it on a warm June evening and make a toast to whatever new chapter you’re stepping into.

So Here’s Your Reminder

If you’ve been waiting for a sign to start something…

This is it.

Apply for the job. Launch the business. Write the article.

Start the podcast. Take the trip. Learn the skill.

Make the call. Send the email. Try.

Dreams take time.

Because as Anthony Bourdain reminded us:

“Your body is not a temple. It’s an amusement park. Enjoy the ride.”

Life is messy.

The path rarely unfolds exactly as planned.

But the alternative—never trying at all—is far worse.

Summer is here.

A new season is beginning.

And maybe your next chapter is waiting on the other side of one brave decision.

Here’s to fresh starts.

Here’s to curiosity.

Here’s to hope.

And here’s to failing gloriously.

Because sometimes that’s exactly how the best stories begin.

With gratitude,

Kristen

Continue the Journey

📖 Read the full companion essay on Substack

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Subscribe, leave a review, and share this episode with someone who might need a little encouragement today.

Because sometimes the biggest adventure starts with simply saying yes.

“The greatest risk isn’t failure. It’s never beginning.”

More recipes you might enjoy:

Gutsch’s Linguine & Clams

Rochester-Style Chicken French

Sweet & Spicy Shrimp Noodle Salad (Keto/Low carb)

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Beef Stroganoff Casserole: A Family Recipe, A Memory, A Song for Dad 💕

Beef Stroganoff Casserole

There are recipes we cook because we’re hungry.

And then there are recipes we cook because we miss someone.

Beef Stroganoff falls into the second category for me.

Dad in Vietnam, 1969

One year ago, on January 2nd, I lost my dad. And this dish—creamy, comforting Beef Stroganoff—was his favorite. My mom used to make it for our family dinners back in the 1970s, when evenings revolved around the table, music played softly in the background, and everyone was home.

Nothing fancy.

Just food made with love.

Every time I make this casserole now, I’m transported back to that kitchen. The smell of onions cooking in butter. Egg noodles steaming. A familiar song playing—“Ventura Highway” by America—floating through the house like sunshine.

Food has a way of doing that.

It brings people back.

Me, my Sister, & Dad 1977

The Story Behind This Beef Stroganoff

Beef Stroganoff has a long history, but like many classic dishes, it became something entirely its own in American home kitchens—especially during the 1960s and 70s.

In our house, it was practical and comforting. Ground beef instead of expensive cuts of steak. Mushrooms, sour cream, egg noodles. Sometimes served straight from the skillet, sometimes baked into a casserole so it stayed warm while everyone gathered.

It wasn’t just dinner.

It was routine.

It was togetherness.

It was my dad asking for seconds.

And the smiles on our faces as we enjoyed our delicious homemade meal together at the kitchen table.

This version honors those family dinners—the kind where no one rushed, where conversation mattered, and where love showed up night after night in the same familiar dishes.

Me and Dad, 2001

Why I Still Make This Recipe

Grief has a funny way of showing up when you least expect it—sometimes in the quiet moments, sometimes while stirring a pot on the stove.

Making this Beef Stroganoff Casserole doesn’t feel sad to me. It feels grounding. It feels like connection. It feels like my dad is still nearby, leaning against the counter, waiting patiently for dinner. Or out on the patio listening to his favorite music while enjoying a dram of Scotch and a fine cigar.

If you’ve ever cooked a meal to remember someone, you understand.

And if this dish reminds you of someone you love, I hope you’ll make it for them.

Dad’s 80th Birthday

1970s-Style Beef Stroganoff Casserole

A comforting, classic family dinner—perfect for sharing, remembering, and slowing down.

Prep Time: 15 minutes

Cook Time: 1 hour

Servings: 6

Ingredients

2 tablespoons butter

1 onion, chopped

2 cloves garlic, minced

1½ pounds ground beef

8 ounces mushrooms, sliced

2 tablespoons all-purpose flour

1 cup beef broth

1 cup sour cream

1 teaspoon Dijon mustard

Salt and pepper, to taste

8 ounces egg noodles, cooked and drained

Instructions

Preheat the oven to 350°F (175°C).

In a large skillet, melt the butter over medium heat. Add the chopped onion and garlic, cooking until soft and translucent.

Add the ground beef and mushrooms. Cook until the beef is browned and the mushrooms are tender. Sprinkle the flour evenly over the mixture and stir well to combine.

Slowly pour in the beef broth, stirring constantly to create a smooth sauce. Reduce heat to low and simmer for about 5 minutes, until thickened.

Remove from heat and stir in the sour cream, Dijon mustard, salt, and pepper. Add the cooked egg noodles to a greased casserole dish and pour the beef mixture over the top. Stir gently to combine.

Bake uncovered for 30 minutes, until hot, bubbly, and lightly golden around the edges. Serve warm and enjoy.

Nutrition (Approximate)

Calories: 450 Fat: 23g Carbohydrates: 32g Protein: 30g

Serving Notes & Variations

– Serve with a simple green salad or buttered peas for a true retro dinner.

– Leftovers taste even better the next day.

– This casserole freezes beautifully for future comfort meals.

A Song to Cook By

While this dish bakes, I always play “Ventura Highway” by America. It’s one of my dad’s favorite songs—and now forever tied to this recipe. Music, like food, has a way of holding memories gently. And transporting us back in time to happy memories of the people we loved and cherished the most in our lives.

👉🏻 Download printable recipe PDF

(Perfect for your recipe binder or to pass down as a family keepsake)

Food as Comfort

Food doesn’t fix grief—but it can soften it and comfort us when we miss them the most.

If this recipe brings you comfort, or reminds you of someone you love, I’d be honored if you shared your memory in the comments. We carry people forward in so many ways—and sometimes, it’s through the meals we keep making.

This one’s for you, Dad. 🤍

Ventura Highway, America 1975
Me and Dad, 1998
Dad’s last Christmas, 2024

1970s Spotify Playlist to listen to while cooking this recipe 🌟

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