When Keith Floyd burst on to the scene, what seems like an age ago, he transformed the way we think about food. Elizabeth David invented it, Egon Ronay pronounced on it, but Floyd turned it into fun. Posing as a sybarite, Floyd was anarchic, boozy and occasionally boorish, but never dull. (If you want to know what my father was like, Floyd was an uncanny clone, replete with culinery skills, real bow tie, bonhomie, a very nasty streak and a lifelong attachment to alcoholism, fags and women.)
He demonstrated that cooking was best done with a glass of wine in one hand and a naughty leer in the eye. There is no doubt he was the first celebrity chef and more or less fathered the genre (and probably some of the chefs).
Keith Floyd did not so much teach you how to cook (Delia did that). What Floyd did was to teach you how to enjoy cooking.
May he rest in peace, surrounded by ladies and good Burgundy.
Posted by Wrinkled Weasel on Tuesday, September 15, 2009