Majestic meals

Her Woolly Majesty You may often wonder: ‘What will I do if the Queen comes to dinner?’ In fact, the Queen did once drop in unexpectedly, when a blizzard halted her progress in 1981. She sat in one of the bedrooms at the Cross Hands Hotel, near Chipping Sodbury, Gloucestershire, for seven hours, interrupted only by dinner in the two-star establishment.

But the four seasonal menus offered by the Royal Collection Trust’s newly published A Royal Cookbook could hardly be knocked up in a snowstorm. Plus there’s the question of presentation. The blackcurrant sorbet is shown in a sumptuous photograph sitting on top of the Queen’s writing desk (it’s not explained why) in one of a pair of silver-gilt stands with matching jelly or ice-cream cups, purchased by George IV in July 1824 for £275 16s 10d. Rather a lot of money. And if you’re thinking of apricot crêpes soufflé, then you’ll have to get hold of Queen Victoria’s Coalport dessert plates. The glassware and table linen are all equally historic and priceless.

How to achieve this standard at home? Don’t worry too much: the Queen doesn’t eat like this every day. We’ve heard about the Tupperware boxes in the breakfast room. When Ruthie Rogers of The River Café had lunch at Buckingham Palace, the Queen said: ‘I know it’s not what you’re used to.’ On another occasion, Paul Burrell, later Princess Diana’s ‘rock’ and butler, offered the Queen a piece of fish, which she banged with the back of her fork, so dried up and rock-like was it. But she wouldn’t send it back. ‘Somebody might get into trouble,’ she said.


I took one look at the book and determined straight away to cook one of its menus. My Royal Dinner was sadly without actual royalty, except Queen Elizabeth, the Queen Mother, in knitted form. Never mind – the occasion was surely a dry run for the great day when it comes.

I chose the spring menu, even though it wasn’t spring exactly, because it features Oeufs Drumkilbo, a favourite of the Queen Mother’s. I never knew this, but everybody I spoke to subsequently said at once: ‘Of course – Oeufs Drumkilbo.’ Indeed, the very day before the dinner, Sam Taylor, The Lady’s features editor, and I were having a fabulous tea in the Chesterfield hotel, Mayfair, with a distinguished gentleman. I mentioned the Royal Dinner.

Lo and behold – would you believe it? – he’d known the Queen Mother, had eaten Oeufs Drumkilbo with her and been given the recipe by one of her chefs. Could he perhaps come to the dinner? Yes, he could – powerful people are always available lastminute, you know. What’s more, he knew one of the other guests, who is close to the throne.


‘What is Oeufs Drumkilbo?’ you’re dying to know. Eggs aren’t really the main event – it’s more of a prawn cocktail, but with lobster and chopped-up boiled egg. There’s great debate as to whether ketchup should feature: A Royal Cookbook says yes, but the chef whose recipe the distinguished gentleman kindly gave me suggests Tabasco. Another source insists Heinz was used at Royal Lodge. The Queen Mother had more than one chef and I’m sure they all had their own particular ways.

I adhered slavishly to A Royal Cookbook. Trying to bash up three lobsters was enough to turn a person republican, I can tell you. And I didn’t have a set of glass dishes given to me by the government and people of the Netherlands in which to serve the oeufs. My tumblers from a French supermarket would have to do. Finally, though, a credible result was achieved. You add anchovy paste and Worcestershire sauce as well as chopped-up tomatoes, mayonnaise (I made my own) and fish stock with gelatine dissolved in it.


The main course, côtelettes d’agneau de Windsor with sauce Paloise, was more straightforward. Except that sauce Paloise is really Hollandaise with mint and, being egg-based, could curdle. You might balk at yet another rich sauce. I have no Dresden service with porcelain putti for the handles of the lids, but my mother’s entrée dishes (I’ve hunted all over for the silver mark. I’m sure it was there once; they can’t be plate) and my harlequin set of antique dinner plates were an adequate substitute. Then there was my Queen Mother, knitted from a Knit Your Own Royal Family kit by a lady of 99. At last Her Woolly Majesty found her place on the table. It’s not so hard to achieve the Buckingham Palace look, with a small amount of imagination and effort.


Then all that remained were the blackcurrant sorbet (to be offered in some quite nice glassware I found in my possession) and the flowers – tiny Queen Mother-type posies of roses, as well as the larkspur and Ammi grown partly by my mother before being planted out in my own garden.

Waiting in my front room for the guests, I did think, ‘What if a black limo with a flag flying inches into the street? She has somehow got to hear of the dinner and determined to come.’ But she hadn’t and didn’t. The real guests arrived. He who is close to the throne regaled me with delightful stories of Her Majesty. The distinguished gentleman and authority on Oeufs Drumkilbo pronounced my version good. The lamb cutlets were delicious with the rich egg-and-butter sauce and asparagus and new potato accompaniment. A cleansing full stop was provided by the blackcurrant sorbet, served on my Herend plates, picked up cheap after the fall of communism. I added lavender biscuits because Waitrose had them. I can’t say all the conversation was of royal affairs – some of it was unrepeatable. But the menu undoubtedly lifted the whole occasion on to another plane, and A Royal Cookbook will be invaluable for years to come.

A Royal Cookbook: Seasonal Recipes From Buckingham Palace, by Mark Flanagan and Edward Griffiths, is published by Royal Collection Trust, priced £12.95

---

Cotelettes d’Agneau de Windsor
Serves 6

• 12 cutlets of lamb (French-trimmed)
• 100ml herb oil (to be made in advance, see opposite page)
• 36 spears of English asparagus 
• 750g Jersey Royal new potatoes
• 30g butter
• salt and pepper

For the sauce Paloise

• 1 small bunch mint
• 350ml white wine vinegar
• 1 tsp white peppercorns
• 100g shallots, finely chopped 
• 250g unsalted butter
• 3 free-range egg yolks
• a squeeze of lemon juice

For the sauce Paloise, pick the leaves from the mint and set aside. Chop the mint stalks, then combine with the vinegar, peppercorns and shallots in a pan. Bring to the boil over a high heat and then continue to cook until the mixture has reduced by two-thirds.

Blanch the mint leaves in boiling water for 10-15 seconds to soften, then quickly refresh under cold running water. Gently squeeze the leaves dry and finely chop with a sharp knife.

Melt the butter in a pan, skimming off any white solids that rise to the surface. Keep warm until you are ready to make the sauce.

In a heatproof bowl placed over a pan of simmering water, whisk together the egg yolks and the vinegar reduction until they form a pale yellow foam (sabayon) which should hold its shape when you lift the whisk. (You must ensure that the sabayon does not get too hot or the egg yolk will start to cook.)

Slowly trickle the warm butter into the sabayon with a ladle, whisking all the time. The sauce should acquire a consistency similar to that of mayonnaise. Add a squeeze of lemon juice and the chopped blanched mint.

Carefully peel and trim the asparagus, taking care to remove the woody stems at the base of the spears.

Wash the Jersey Royals well and bring to the boil in a large pan of salted water. Turn down the heat until the pan is just simmering and allow to cook gently until tender. Once the potatoes are cooked, strain them and return to the heat briefly to dry off, before adding a knob of butter. Cover and keep somewhere warm for at least 10 minutes before serving: this is so the potatoes can really absorb the butter.

Season the lamb cutlets with sea salt, freshly milled pepper and the herb oil before grilling in a hot griddle pan for 3-5 minutes per side (depending on how you like your lamb cooked).

Allow the lamb to sit and rest somewhere warm for 5 minutes. In the meantime, cook the asparagus in boiling salted water for 4-5 minutes, depending on the thickness of the spears. Serve the lamb with the asparagus, the Jersey Royals and a generous pot of warm sauce Paloise.

Herb oil

• 500ml olive oil
• 2 cloves of garlic, lightly broken
• ½ bunch thyme
• ½ bunch rosemary
• 1 large sprig of basil
• a few good sprigs of marjoram

Lightly bruise the herbs and garlic cloves before putting them into a saucepan with the olive oil. Heat very gently, allowing the herbs to infuse for around 10-15 minutes.

Do not allow the oil to get too hot as the herbs must not start to fry. Once the oil has warmed through, remove it from the heat and leave the herbs in it overnight (or for as long as possible) before straining the oil. You can use the rest of the oil with pasta dishes or for cooking a whole baked fish.

Oeufs Drumkilbo
There is a great debate as to whether ketchup should feature: A Royal Cookbook says yes, but the recipe given to one of my guests by one of Queen Elizabeth, the Queen Mother’s chefs, uses Tabasco. I reproduce his here. Oeufs Drumkilbo are best served as a first course, followed by something like coronation chicken. Eton Mess is very popular at Clarence House, too.

Serves 4

• 4 leaves of gelatine
• 150ml fish stock
• 8 hard-boiled eggs, diced 
• 4 tomatoes, skinned, seeded and diced
• 120g fresh prawns, cooked and shelled
• 120g cooked lobster meat
• 120g mayonnaise u salt and pepper
• a splash of anchovy essence
• a splash of Worcestershire sauce
• a splash of Tabasco

Soak the gelatine leaves in cold water. Heat up the fish stock and while hot, but not boiling, gently dissolve the gelatine leaves in the stock. Leave to cool. Add the eggs, tomatoes and chopped shellfish to the mayonnaise. Season to taste with salt and pepper, anchovy essence, Worcestershire sauce and Tabasco.

Mix in one-third of the cooled gelatine and stock mixture, setting the other two-thirds aside. Place in nice glasses or soufflé dishes. Allow to set, then cover the surface with a thin layer of the gelatine and stock mixture.

Decorate at will and serve with brown bread and butter or fingers of mustard-and-cress sandwiches.