Floyd uncorked is a dish to die for

So there I was, sipping Domaines Barons de Rotschild (Lafite), Legende R Bordeaux Blanc 2004 when Keith Floyd bounces up to me and says, “Darling, you look like a dish tonight. I’d love to cook you.”

Stop. Rewind.

Sorry, that was just what I imagined happened.
What really happened was, he did shake my hand, asked after my health ever so cordially and enquired as to whether “they were feeding you enough, ducky?”

I nodded, tongue-tied. Floyd in person. The irrepressible, effervescent man who’s made a living from drinking on the job while cooking his way through the icebergs of Scandinavia to the mountains of the Himalayas.

The man, really, who made me fall in love with cooking shows because he made them ever so fun. The man who’s cussed and swore his way through paellas, tom yum kung and pickled herring.

He looked older than I remembered – but then of course, I have been watching re-runs of his programmes on Discovery Travel & Living. At 63 and live, he is as full of boundless energy as he comes across on television.

As the star of the “Uncorking Keith Floyd” dinner held as part of the World Gourmet Summit at the Grand Hyatt Singapore, he was also the consummate, professional and, of course, irreverent host as he regaled us with his alcoholic-laced tales and liver-pickled anecdotes and later took questions from the audience.

The five-course meal and six different wines were, even to me, a foodie, mere backdrops to the rich tapestry that is Floyd’s life.

Married four times and bankrupt once – “don’t come to me for marital advice or financial services”, Floyd, former barman, dishwasher and vegetable peeler told us of the last time he was in Singapore and was drinking at the bar at midnight when a man came up to him and said, “Call Room 2014.”

“I never speak to anyone after midnight. It’s a good way to go bankrupt,” he said.

But he did. And he called. And Ronnie Wood (of the Rolling Stones) answered. Ronnie and the boys were also in town for their concert.

“Imagine, Rolling Stones came to my cookery demonstration and people like that don’t get up in the morning,” he said, adding, “Mick didn’t though. He’s a total prat.”

He then dedicated the evening to his mother, “the greatest cook in the world”.

He talked about how things had changed since he was a lad, growing up in Somerset. At 10, “we were bleeding little boys with scraped knees” out collecting berries and mushrooms, fishing, plucking chestnuts from trees and ferreting for rabbits.

“There was no frozen food, no Hyatt, no TV. We hunted and foraged for food to supplement the meagre income of our parents. We were poor but we never starved.”

He then told us of his time in Australia. “Being a man of total principle, I wouldn’t advertise anything that was frozen or processed. But when someone offers you £110,000 to advertise pot noodles, well, your principles melt away.”

So he did that for five years. One day, flying first class on Qantas along with other luminaries such as Gough Whitlam, Kylie Minogue and Anna Murdoch, the crew came up and served everyone but him caviar, foie gras and roast beef.

“They didn’t give it to me. I wasn’t drunk or suffering from air rage or anything. Later, one of them came up with a trolley, lifted the cloth, revealing one of my pot noodles and he said, Floydie, you advertise it, now eat it, mate.”

Or the time he was in on the Thai-Burma border, trying to cook while bombs were flying as the Thai army was waging their anti-drug campaign against the Burmese drug warlords.

“It was one of the most interesting meals I’ve ever had. They opened the stomach of an ox, took out its still pulsating liver and presented it to me. Sometimes it’s a pain in the a… to be an honoured guest.”

Or the time in India two years ago. “Behind me was some Indian prince’s palace. In front was a lake with elephants bathing and squirting water. On my table in 44 degrees heat. I was trying to make the definitive briyani with 14 different spices.

I had my rice, my karahi (Indian wok) and our rather dubious gas connection ready to go. I get one hit, I can only do it once. I got the gas lit, I am ready to face the camera when the director – all directors are complete pricks – said, ‘Cut. Can you get the elephants back in position?’”

Or the time in South Africa when ostriches came up to attack him and ate his meal as well as cutlery. “Greenpeace wrote to me and asked, how could I cook an ostrich egg in front of its mother? Ostriches don’t give a toss. They are thick.”

Catch more of Yeoh Siew Hoon at her favourite spot in The Transit Cafe – www.thetransitcafe.com