By Kelly Rausch

A disturbing trend has developed in my home over the past few weeks. My husband has stopped cooking.

In nearly nine years of marriage, my spouse has always been the primary chef. We each sort out our own breakfasts and lunches, but his claim on dinner menus and their preparation has been strong from the get-go. Occasionally, I step in and throw together sloppy Joes or taco salad but those times are so rare our 3-year-old daughter never fails to ask with wonder, “Mommy, are you making dinner? Where’s Daddy?”

I’ve been the envy of my friends and coworkers. When I bring in leftover crawfish pie or chicken enchiladas to work, I try to remain humble as those around me look on with envy. Not only do I get to eat such delicious food regularly, but I don’t even have to make it myself. I’ve lived a charmed life.

But lately, he’s avoided the kitchen. When we sit down to plan our weekly grocery list, he’s been withdrawn and uninterested. He’ll give a big sigh and simply mumble, “Whatever…” as he stares out the window.

What’s going on here? Has he been cooking for some other woman? Has he finally realized he and his culinary talents are too good for me? Did he wise up to the fact that his “I cook, you clean” policy gives him the short end of the stick?

The truth? Two words, Anthony Bourdain. Specifically, the Travel Channel television program “Anthony Bourdain: No Reservations.” My husband recently discovered this show (which first began airing in 2005) and he hasn’t been the same since.

Bourdain is something of a rock star in the world of celebrity chefs. Where people like Rachael Ray and Emeril Lagasse have made names for themselves in popular culture as chefs, Bourdain has transcended his kitchen roots to become something of a global citizen, touring the planet, exploring different cultures and their food. His show documents these travels.

Don’t expect to see Bourdain sampling the latest, hottest or most famous restaurants on his show. Instead, he seeks out more everyday cuisine. Often, the food he eats is prepared in people’s homes and he’s invited to eat with them and their families at the dinner table. It’s a much more personal experience that way, and it goes along with Bourdain’s belief that simple, traditional food is some of the best food.

The trouble for me is that the simple, traditional food at my house in Pflugerville pales in comparison with the flavorful seafood of the Azores, or the spit-roasted veal in Sardinia. While my spouse would love to experiment with locally crafted goat cheese or roasted bone marrow, our weekly grocery budget does not allow such indulgences. So instead of trying to get creative on a budget, he’s practically given up cooking altogether.

This has resulted in a few of my own near-disasters in the kitchen. Sunday, for example, I tried cooking mini turkey and apple meatloaves from our new “Southern Living” cookbook. The result can only be charitably described as “weird,” and what’s worse, I’ve got seven of these mini loaves left over so I’ll get to experience the weirdness for lunch all week.

I’ve started watching “No Reservations” to see what it’s all about, and I admit that I’ve started to feel the same ennui toward the boring old frozen Gorton’s fish fillets in my freezer. Why am I eating this junk when there are people in the world eating homemade sausage and fresh grilled green onions grown in their own gardens?

What’s more, I’m ready to renew my passport. While “No Reservations” isn’t going to give you any tips on how to score a great rate at a five-star hotel or tell you what museums you can’t miss in Paris, it will show you new and amazing places well off the beaten tourist path. It’s a fantastic travel show that way. We were planning to see our families in Arizona and California over Christmas, but now that just seems pedestrian. Is there any way we could travel to the South Pacific for the holidays instead? Is there any way our families wouldn’t kill us for ditching them at Christmas?

I enjoy “Anthony Bourdain: No Reservations,” but it’s made me completely unsatisfied with my life. Pardon me now while I cry into my mini turkey meatloaf. Maybe the salt of my tears will improve its flavor.