Introduction British royal food. For so long, the gilded pinnacle of gastronomy, a heady, regal extravaganza of excess where course after exquisite course emerged from cavernous kitchens--borne aloft by liveried footmen on plates of pure gold--to sate the whims of the richest, most powerful people on earth. For these banquets were no mere dinner, rather soufflé diplomacy at its most subtle, as kings, queens, and emperors, presidents, princes, and prime ministers quietly shaped history over Mousses de Merlan à la Dieppoise and Cailles Rôties sur Canapé. And it was here, at these glittering, candlelit feasts in ancient castles and grand palaces alike, that the great chefs of the age--Carême, Francatelli, and the rest--were given the freedom (and budget) to create some of the most ornate, extravagant, and complex dishes ever seen. The original haute cuisine, and the standard to which all other chefs aspired, this was cooking as both art and inspiration, an entente cordiale of British ingredients and French technique. These days, though, few of us have the time, skill, or inclination to debone a snipe, stuff a boar''s head, or roast a whole haunch of ox. Nor spend three days preparing Consommé au Faisan avec Quenelles . Of course, back in the days of Queen Victoria and Edward VII, with a permanent kitchen staff of forty-five, anything was possible and everything expected.

But as the years passed, brigades grew smaller, and lunches and dinners less, well, exhausting. Now, the King and Queen are positively abstemious. And although state banquets are still as important as ever, a direct link to the gilded gastronomic heights of the good old days, they never go on for more than three courses, plus coffee, fresh fruit, and petits fours. This book, first and foremost, will be a tome for everyday use. I''ve spent months combing through archives, letters, diaries, cookbooks, and biographies to glean recipes that appeal to the modern cook. And don''t require an entire kitchen brigade. Contrary to popular legend, it wasn''t all lark''s tongues and roast cygnet--although the latter was an occasional Christmas dish. No, the royal family, from Victoria onwards, have tastes like everyone else.

Victoria was a devotee of cake, fruit, and all things sweet. Edward VII loved roast beef and Irish stew, George V liked curry, and mashed potatoes with everything, while his son, George VI, preferred his omelettes plain and unencumbered. Of course, there are more recipes from the reigns of Queen Victoria and her son, Edward VII, as both were hearty eaters and ruled at a time when lavishly rich ten-course lunches and twelve-course dinners were par for the course. George V, in contrast to his father, had relatively simple tastes, although his wife, Queen Mary, was, in the words of royal chef Gabriel Tschumi, one of the "last great connoisseurs of food in England." Their son, George VI, was also a man who liked things straight and unadorned. And Queen Elizabeth II, while deeply knowledgeable about menus, special dishes, and state banquets (she never forgot a favorite dish eaten by any guest), had tastes that were many miles removed from extravagant. As for King Charles III, I could write a whole different book on his knowledge of, and support for, British food and farming. In fact, there is no one better informed on everything from rare breeds and heritage fruit and vegetables to cheesemaking, butchery, and brewing.

He is a genuine British food hero. But if food is a prism through which one can see history and economics, then the cooking of the royal family offers a fascinating glimpse into the lives and habits of British society''s upper strata. From the grand, if admittedly dyspeptic, excess of the Victorian and Edwardian ages, when cream, butter, foie gras, and truffles were used with giddy abandon, to wartime parsimony (no booze, and a mere two courses at breakfast!) and on into the modern world. Recipes are predominantly British and French (as French cooking was long seen as superior, at least in court circles), with occasional forays into India, Germany, and Italy. Not just a snapshot of the cooking of kings and queens, but a peek behind the scenes, an insight into royal kitchens, banquets, picnics, and barbecues. A taste of royal life. Most of all, though, this is a book about pleasure, the joys of cooking and eating, of sitting down together and breaking bread. It''s a celebration of the seasons, of great British ingredients, and a few French ones, too.

You may be surprised at the simplicity of many of the recipes. That''s the point. Food is the great leveler. I want to strip away the pomp and circumstance and get right to the meat of the matter--a collection of wonderful recipes that you really want to cook from over two centuries of regal eating. Eat, drink, and be merry. Oh, and God Save the King and Queen!.