A feast fit for a king

Be it turtle soup or epic, six-course lunches, the Royal Family has long enjoyed superb food. Yet, as Tom Parker Bowles explores in his latest book, the current King and Queen's tastes are far more down to earth

- Tom Parker Bowles

PROCURE a fine, lively fat turtle,' reads the first line of a royal recipe for turtle soup, which runs on for many pages, including detailed notes on the slaughter (kill the turtle overnight so that it may be left to bleed in a cool place...) and exactly how to cut the flesh from the shell. Edward VII couldn't get enough of the stuff and was rarely without a flask to hand. Yet, even with a kitchen brigade of 42, making this soup took both time and toil.

This blessed broth, however, was nothing when compared with his favourite dish, Côtelettes de Bécassines à la Souvaroff.

Here, a snipe was deboned, spread with foie gras and game forcemeat, breadcrumbed, wrapped in pig's caul, grilled and smothered in a truffle-and-Madeira sauce. Hours of hard work disappeared in one ecstatic bite and the King could eat them by the dozen.

Back in Victorian and Edwardian times, a healthy appetite was not only a prerequisite of dining at the royal table, but a basic necessity. Breakfast sideboards groaned with silver chafing dishes, warmed by flickering candles and filled with everything from kippers, kedgeree and devilled kidneys to fried fish, eggs every way, steaks, sausages and bacon.

Lunch was equally epic: at least six courses, each featuring up to three different dishes.

Then, there was tea at five (one royal tradition that still very much endures), with the usual spread of cakes, biscuits, patisserie, sandwiches, crumpets, scones and potted shrimps.

All before dinner, the mightiest feast of them all: as many as 10 courses of truffle-studded, butter-and-cream drenched delight. Quite how anyone managed to get out of their seat, let alone waddle to bed, is beyond me.