I have just finished reading Keith Floyd’s autobiography Shaken,But Not Stirred.
It was a fine read, and although ghost written, was an honest reflection of the infamous TV chef’s life.
Towards his later years, he spent time living in Spain, not a million miles away from where we are on holiday, and he talks about one or two places, which I wanted to try.
The first was the Roman Oasis, owned by a friend of his, and I quickly found it on line yesterday. I telephoned, but was greeted with a very polite English male voice:
“Oh sorry darling, last night was the last of the season – we had a 150 people here, and we had a real BEANO of a time!”
Suffice to say, we didn’t get there, but on further inspection, I noted that they did indeed serve baked beans on toast, along with other British delights, hence his description of a good time being a “beano” . My experience of the word is confined to the children’s comic, of which I am still a fan.
It would have been pleasant to follow a great foodie’s tracks, but this time it seems, it was not to be.
It has left me wondering though, that perhaps even the great Keith Floyd missed a taste of home, and that is why he went.