Keith Floyd Requiescat in pace

The world is a little poorer today. One of those who added a certain piquancy of flavour to it's sauce is no more.

Keith Floyd, at least in my household, was always compulsive viewing. A cook who could Martini-style, cook any time, any place, anywhere. Always with a large glass of something alcoholic at his elbow, and always with a certain ebullient irreverence.


Keith was the best booze fuelled bon viveur of his time, and backed it up with no little erudition and wit. He had what is so sadly lacking in TV (Which is probably why haven't watched it in five years); character.

He inspired my own amateurish culinary style which relies not so much on the studied Delia Smith, cook-by-the-numbers method as the "taste, texture, and let's try a bit of that" intuitive method of preparing meals. Mrs S seems to like it, but she does get a bit exasperated when I won't cook certain dishes the same way twice. She doesn't seem to understand that my slightly experimental approach to cuisine is because the dishes aren't 'perfect' yet. Good, maybe, but not perfect.

I owe a good deal of what I know about food preparation to Keith Floyd. I shall mourn his passing but celebrate (With of course the odd glass or two) the fact that he lived.