One for the road

Last night we watched an old episode of a Keith Floyd TV series from the early 80’s where in order to overcome a nasty hangover, he attempts (and in his mind, though not that of the viewer ) succeeds, in devising a three day detox programme by cooking and eating a selection of his very own (and mostly very alcoholic) recipes. 

This was one of the funniest things I have watched in a long time. You couldn’t manufacture his own particular charm and slightly dishevelled,  yet beguiling TV presence.  A bit like a foodie version of Columbo with ill fitting overcoats and a slightly bewildered expression,  as if somehow life had caught him by surprise. From time to time he spruced up his outfits a bit by wearing jaunty striped blazers with hideously clashing bow ties, or  flappy Sherlock Holmes type capes topped with a particularly bright green sun hat resembling something that had lived in a hedge or under a car for most of its days.You got the feeling that every make up artist expense or costume budget had been spared, but who cares? 

It was all filmed in his own kitchen, a 1980’s dream of beige and brown, with his hovering cameraman Johnny constantly being told to ” zoom in on the shrimps/ move away from the spinach”,and often having to stop mid film in order to wipe condensation from the camera lens if he got too close to the steaming pots and pans. The recipes involved for the most part shellfish, cream, sherry, vodka, egg yolks, garlic, gin , mint and vast amounts of fish, all of which allegedly are marvellous for cleansing the liver, and he seemed wonderfully stubbornly oblivious to the fact that if you are attempting to use recipes to de tox from alcohol, the one thing to not use as an ingredient is alcohol. 

Despite this fairly major error, and as time passed,  he cheerfully claimed to be feeling increasingly tip top, his health improving each day, as he waved a small glass of water and lemon juice at the camera, enthusiastically pronouncing on the absolute delights of fresh air and exercise, before setting off on long (all of 100 yards) bike rides, or went out fishing for his supper. The tiny little sardine like thing he managed to catch in his net was definitely not the large trout that he fried up moments later on the riverbank , but to be honest the whole programme was so wonderfully shambolic and utterly brilliant that I would have forgiven him anything. 

And it’s worth noting that he was pretty ahead of his time in culinary aspects as there weren’t many other cooks making food such as Thai green curry on television at that time, and despite the way he regularly managed to miss the bowl while ladling lashings of noodles and sauce from the pan so that most of it landed on the table, you could tell he know his stuff. 

At the end of three days, triumphant in his sobriety ( I use this term very loosely) and feeling that he deserved a treat for all his hardship and endeavours he summoned his car and driver. The final shot of this absolute diamond of a programme was of his large ancient mercedes pulling out of his drive on its way to…you guessed it…the pub. 

You just don’t get telly like this any more. For starters, the myriad of health and safety regulations would have washed the soul and point out of a programme like this to beyond recognition. His character would not have survived being stifled by do’s and don’ts,  as the chaos, unpredictability and charm of him were the whole point, and in that way it was utter genius. I also can’t imagine anyone being allowed to so blatantly swig alcohol on television these days to the extent that he did, but again, this was one of the reasons it was so very  funny. 

You only have to look at one of the hundreds of cooking programmes that are available on a daily basis to see that the more you attempt to make things look completely improvised and natural, the more you end up with something that is a bit forced and contrived. Because however hard they try to make it look homely,  and to fool you that the personable and friendly cook  has actually invited the TV cameras into their own spotless and inviting home, you know that behind the scenes  a stylist has re arranged the strings of garlic over the cooker and stacked jars of home made looking jams and artisan chutneys along  the back shelf.  Even the fridge magnets are perfectly presented and there isnt a spill or a grubby tea towel in sight. 

Not that some of them aren’t very good. I’m the first to stay home to watch The Great British bake off or Masterchef ,  I’ve always been a sucker for Jamie Oliver, and would watch Ottolenghi cooking ( or doing anything ) until the cows come home. It’s just that none of them would ever make me laugh quite as much as we did last night with Mr Floyd and that’s a great shame.