Rick Stein is TV’s kindly and groovy old uncle. He occasionally pops ’round and is really engaging and sweet and is always a joy. He’s always been like that. In the testosterone fuelled world of male-run kitchens, or the doe-eyed nonsense of women ‘home-cooks’ (the only two types of TV cook there is), Stein ambles past, eschewing both notions to reveal to us all the things he really loves. He’s got the pastoral breeze of Fearnley-Whittingstall, the Great British Boy’s Own-ness of James May, all wrapped in a ball of enthusiastic ball of jolliness… or so you’ve thunk all these years. Fact is, in Rick Stein’s Memoirs of a Seafood Chef (BBC Two, Wednesday, 7 January, 9pm), we got to see what Rick’s like away from the recipes… and he’s a bit of a bugger… a hugely pleasing bugger at that.

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Weirdly this show felt like a tribute to Rick Stein, like he’d died or something. Tributes from those close to him, a look back on his life… all in a show 90 minutes long. Do the BBC know something we don’t? Of course not. Basically, in the post festive funk, BBC Two wisely thought it would be a good idea to give us some glorious stodge to sit in.

Stein, in relaxed mood, underlined why we all love him. He championed the unsung heroes of British food, showed off sumptuous dishes, went fishing, horsed around on a beach with a load of friends and generally said thanks to all who helped him to shape his career as The Fish Man. In that number, were a whole host of cool old fishermen who not only showed how brilliant they are at their job, but what a raucous bunch they are, sharing tales of fist-fights and singing old Cornish folk songs. The waitresses were also a good craic too, spilling the beans and chuckling away at fond memories.

However, we know all that, or at least, have imagined all that. The fact of the matter is, this programme showed us what a bugger Stein is. He regaled with tales of doing shoots with monumental hangovers and how he still doesn’t feel like a chef, rather, someone who likes eating. That said, the juiciest tales came from his time as a nightclub owner, which were filled with drunken scraps, lock-in sessions and trouble with the police. The Great Western sounded (literally) more like a saloon than a night spot!

Elsewhere, one bit particularly sticks in my mind, and that was the scene that saw Stein’s finger getting sliced open with a Japanese guillotine. It made my hand feel weird for a good 10 minutes, with an added 15 minutes of wincing. Remembering it now, and my hand has gone into sympathy mode again, with a slight tingle. Also, it has to be said that Stein’s ex-wife, Jill, is a hottie. Yowzer! She went onto my list of fit older women I’ll daydream about (which includes Sheila Ravencroft – John Peel’s wife, Pru Leith and Germaine Greer)

All this said, the was someone effortlessly stealing the show, and that was Chalky. Chalky, Stein’s departed dog, is one of the reasons why humans should never work with animals, mainly because they can trump you at every turn. Chalky played the dream boat in sunsets, cocked his leg up on a dish prepared by his supposed master, and once more, we were showed the much seen, but still brilliant gnashing of teeth at a boom. The close of the show was dedicated to Chalky with a hokey, but ultimately sweet song… which is a decent enough wrap of what Stein’s show is all about. Big heart, if a little saccharine at times. Hugely enjoyable all the same.