ROBBIE MILLAR's tragic death, at just 38, has robbed Northern Ireland's hospitality industry of its finest, friendliest chef and restaurateur. He was a truly gifted and creative cook whose innovations and influence, thank God, will endure through the brigades of young chefs and servers he trained in Shanks, the superb restaurant he tirelessly built up with his lovely wife Sylvia.

Regular readers will know that Robbie was my favourite chef. Every January since the late 1990s I have been nominating Shanks as Restaurant of the Year in these columns. These wee mentions may not have given him as much pleasure or as his unprecedented run of 10 Michelin stars, but he never failed to give me a big sincere Robbie-style 'thank-you' every time we met.

For special occasions, I would never think of dining anywhere else but at one of his tables overlooking the Blackwood golf courses near Bangor. I have written here and elsewhere of many memorable meals in the company of people who appreciate fine cuisine presented with flair. Typical is Heidi Patton, my sophisticated Swiss friend, who told me that she had never enjoyed such excellent food and service anywhere else in the whole world. Robbie was particularly chuffed at this personal accolade, as he had trained in Switzerland before joining friend and mentor Paul Rankin at Roscoff in Belfast. It was there they cooked up the revolution which has totally transformed Ulster cuisine.

I have celebrated more birthdays in Shanks than in my own home over recent years, including my latest milestone just a few weeks ago. As always, Robbie joined us for a bit of birthday banter and a ritual photo at the end of the evening. If my beard ever gets as grey as yours, John, I'll shave it off with my sharpest knife, he laughed over coffee in the upstairs lounge.

Alas, Robbie Millar will not live to see his beard go grey or watch his three lovely children grow up, but many thousands will remember him with affection and his legacy to the local restaurant scene will endure forever.

By John Trew