Galloping Gourmet still has his old moves, and a few new ones

When I was 12, I fell a little bit in love with the "Galloping Gourmet."

Maybe it was his dreamy British accent. Or his charming, slightly naughty, banter. Or maybe I was just enchanted by the idea of a handsome, witty man who could cook.

At that time (1969), I didn't know that most professional chefs were men. The men I knew - in particular the ones I was related to - might cook an occasional steak or a fried egg. But not Rabbit Cacciatore. And certainly not Pineapple Eleuthera. And no way would they have even thought about serving wine, much less the right wine. And then there was that chair leaping thing: While holding a full glass of wine in one hand, the dandily dressed Graham Kerr would dash onto the television set, leap over a chair, and land, laughing, right in front of his live studio audience. Outrageous? Sure, but I was entranced, right along with about 200 million other viewers.

I wanted to tune in every day because I was afraid I might miss something. Like the day Kerr showed up wearing a suit of armor. Or the time he leapt onto the set wearing boxer shorts and a pair of swim flippers. It was as clear as clarified butter that Kerr and his producer (wife Treena Kerr) were onto something new. The charming and chirpy Julia Child already had taught PBS viewers to expect televised culinary demonstrations to be served up with plenty of personality and wit. But Kerr came along and raised the "cooking as entertainment" bar.

In addition to his costumed antics, Kerr told stories of exotic meals he'd sampled in far away places and then demonstrated how to incorporate those unique flavors into gourmet dishes that could be made at home. Near the end of each episode, he would select an audience member (often an attractive young woman) to join him at his table for a sip of wine and a taste of that day's culinary creation. This was food entertainment served with a dash of hedonism, a pinch of creative genius, a side of saucy innuendos, and a whole lot of fun. Oh, and a whole lot of cream, too.

Fast forward to last week. I'm doing a phone interview with Kerr. Now 77, he's just as charming as ever, and he's still quite handsome. And thank goodness he hasn't lost his dreamy accent.

Yes, he has indeed circled the world 28 times. And, yes, he has appeared in 1,800 cooking shows and sold 14 million cookbooks. And, yes, counting his new book ("Growing at the Speed of Life: A Year in the Life of My First Kitchen Garden," Perigee Press, $27), he has written 29 books. But, he said, what he most wants to emphasize right now is how much he and his wife of 55 years, Treena, are enjoying the slow-paced, community-nurturing world of kitchen gardening.

In the past decade or so, he consciously stepped away from competitive culinary pursuits so he could spend more time with his family and his neighbors in the small Washington community where he and his wife have built a modest home. He has learned, he says, that just like the kitchen garden he now tends and writes about in his new book, his children, his grandchildren and his great-grandchildren need consistent and caring attention.

Following are a few tidbits from my interview with Graham. And yes, he said it was OK if I called him Graham. And, no, I didn't mind one bit when he called me Renee. (Sigh)

American-Statesman: Although you and Julia Child have very different styles of cooking, I understand that both of you were `discovered' while demonstrating the art of omelette making. In 1962 Child's demonstration of how to make an omelet on a Boston PBS station's book review program caught the attention of a producer and led to her first cooking show. And a couple of years earlier, in 1960, while you were working as a caterer in the New Zealand Air Force, you were ordered by your superiors to cook an omelet on television. Would you please elaborate?

Graham Kerr: I had never heard that about Julia, but I'm thrilled to hear that. And I can give you complete assurance about my side. It was … the first week of television in (New Zealand). There was only one television station in Auckland, and that station only aired 2 hours a day. I certainly didn't want to go on. I had been doing radio programs about food. What happened was this: The physical training instructor was asked to go on and do some exercises. But then he sprained his ankle. So I was ordered to go on in his place, and I said no. But they said you can't say no because you're a serving member of the Air Force. So I went on and I made an omelet on a little silver flambe lamp with my little copper pan and the whole bit. And it was written up as the best live show to date. But there were only 15 television sets in the whole country.