When Anthony Bourdain first broke into the celebrity foodie scene with his best-selling Kitchen Confidential some 10 years ago, he made as many New Yorkers fume at his chutzpah as he had readers who admired his cool, stylish writing. The subtitle of the book says it all: “Adventures in the Culinary Underbelly,” and it was just that. With enormous zest and a macho swagger, Bourdain set about exposing what really goes on in the kitchens of major restaurants.

A decade and three novels, five books and a major TV series later, the now-famous chef has produced the second volume of his autobiography with Medium Raw: A bloody valentine to the world of food and the people who cook. This book, sadly, is more self-indulgent and less focused than Kitchen Confidential. Using a scattergun approach, Bourdain rubbishes other chefs, media figures and restaurants with gay abandon. But he also philosophises about fatherhood, wealth, the evils of the big food industry and the state of the world in general. When Bourdain is writing about food he is on surer ground than when he is pontificating about a host of other issues.

Bourdain is gifted with a tough, edgy style that has made the transition well into his TV series, “A Cook’s Tour”. But do we really need him to dilate on how protective he feels about his little girl, and how determined he is to shield her from the dubious offerings of McDonald’s and KFC? The author of Medium Raw is free and easy with expletives; it is hard to find a paragraph without a liberal sprinkling of four-letter words. But here’s Bourdain, describing the new CEO of the Food Network, the TV channel that sent him around the world to shoot his popular and entertaining series:

“Ms [Brooke] Johnson was clearly not delighted to meet me or my partners. You could feel the air go out of the room the moment she entered. It became instantly a place without hope or humour. There was a limp handshake as cabin pressure changed, a black hole of fun — all light, all possibility of joy was sucked into the vortex of this hunched and scowling apparition. The indifference bordering on naked hostility was palpable.”

Unsurprisingly, Johnson soon axed Bourdain’s programme from the network. Presumably, this has limited his visits to Vietnam, his version of foodie heaven. In the book, A Cook’s Tour: In search of the perfect meal, Bourdain is eloquent about the variety and excellence of Vietnamese cuisine. In one memorable chapter, he described how a beating heart was cut out of a cobra squirming in a pair of tongs by his table, and served to him while it still palpitated.

According to him, it was a bit like an oyster. More basic and universal is pho, a hot-pot served in different forms across the country. Bourdain sings its praises in Medium Raw: “What is not debatable is that a perfect bowl of Hanoi pho is a balanced meeting of savoury, sweet, sour, spicy, salty, and even umami — a gentle commingling of textures as well: soft and giving, wet and slippery, slightly chewy, momentarily resistant but ultimately near-diaphanous, light and heavy, leafy and limp, crunchy and tender…Were this already not enough to jerk a rusty steak knife across your grandma’s throat, empty her bank account, and head off to Hanoi, consider the colours: bright red chillies; the more subdued, richer-red toasted-chilli paste; bright green vegetables; white sprouts. Pinkish-red raw meat, turning slowly grey as it cooks in your bowl, the deep brown colours of cooked meat, white noodles and amber broth. Nearly all God’s colours in one bowl.”

When I read this loving description, I was all set to pack for Vietnam, too.

One lasting regret that runs through the book is that Bourdain no longer considers himself a chef. After graduating from the prestigious Culinary Institute of America, he went off on a drink- and drug-fuelled binge that took him lower and lower down the restaurant chain until he was slinging burgers and hot dogs at cheap cafes. After years of wasting his time and talent, he was eventually redeemed by getting a job in the three-star Les Halles. From this vantage point, he saw the inner workings of some of the top restaurants in New York, and described his experiences to such telling effect in Kitchen Confidential.

For me, the most useful chapter in the book contained his advice to food enthusiasts who enjoy cooking and think they would like to start a restaurant. Bourdain gives several reasons why these foodies should stay well away from the business, listing all the many ways they’ll be ripped off. Having once vaguely considered this possibility, I was immediately and permanently dissuaded.

Mostly, Bourdain’s musings on food, cooking and the restaurant business are amusing and instructive. Even his rants against people in the business are fun. But anybody expecting a book of recipes, or a companion volume to Kitchen Confidential, will be disappointed. Mostly, his observations are limited to the American food scene, with the occasional foray into Japan and Vietnam. So while fans of Bourdain will find much to savour in Medium Raw, newcomers to his books are likely to be disappointed.

The reviewer is a Dawn columnist and food critic

Medium Raw: A bloody Valentine to the world of food and the people who cook (AUTOBIOGRAPHY) By Anthony Bourdain Bloomsbury Publishing, London ISBN 978-1-4088-0934-1 281pp. £12.99