Spectator Life

It may not be as famous as the Martini or the Daiquiri, but the White Lady is a real treasure from the golden era of cocktails. Calling for just two bottles, it’s a drink of great elegance and simplicity – filled with charm and old-school glamour. The first White Lady landed on the bar in 1919, served by Scottish cocktail pioneer Harry MacElhone to a guest of the ultra-fashionable Ciro’s Club. The restaurant and drinking den on London’s Orange Street traded for only a short time before being shut down for being too fun (and violating its license) but it was an important proving ground for MacElhone. The White Lady on the menu there was a prototype which, according to the head boy of booze history David Wondrich, contained crème de menthe and no gin.

The French epicure Jean-Anthelm Brillat-Savarin, writing in the early decades of the nineteenth century, remarked, 'Read the historians, from Herodotus down to our own day, and you will see that there has never been a great event, not even excepting conspiracies, which was not conceived, worked out, and organized over a meal.' And indeed it is true that State Banquets are amongst the most important opportunities for discussion and diplomacy. Her Majesty The Queen has over the past 70 years received well over 100 inward State Visits. She has undertaken over 260 official visits overseas including nearly 100 outward State Visits, making her the most travelled monarch in history.

Whatever the problems faced by England’s Test cricketers on the field lately – and they are legion – the players know that one thing at least will go right in this week’s match against New Zealand at Lord’s: the food. The fare at the home of cricket is legendary. Ex-England and Middlesex batsman Mark Ramprakash says that in county matches he and his team-mates would sometimes deliberately get out just before lunch so they could ‘pile into’ the food. Even the two batsmen who were still in would promise each other, as they walked back out to resume play, that they wouldn’t run quick singles for a while. David Lloyd’s first lunch at the ground was accompanied by lager. He was dismissed soon afterwards.

I went to a garden party at Buckingham Palace once. It is coloured in my memory like childhood. There are good Canalettos and fitted carpets inside because that is self-confidence. In the garden the Queen stood with diplomats, safe from confessions, tears and requests for football tickets. (People do this. They write to her for FA Cup Final tickets. They think she is a witch.) She looks like a benevolent sweet from afar, but I am fond of the Queen of my ideation since she replied to my son’s birthday greeting with a very civil letter which he lost.

I love scones. I would go so far as to say they are my favourite morsel of all in the traditional afternoon tea spread. Yes the finger sandwiches are nice, and the mini tarts, eclairs and macarons often an impressive display of the pâtisser’s skill and finesse. But if the afternoon tea doesn’t have a scone, in my book it is not an afternoon tea at all. The appeal of the scone is partly in its simplicity. I can find the opera cake with multiple different types of ganache and the various mini tartlets that feature in hotel afternoon teas sometimes all a bit much.

Without 'drastic government action' a recent report has warned, obese adults in the UK are set to outnumber those who are a healthy weight within five years. By 2040 nearly four in ten adults in the UK, that's 21 million people, are projected to be obese, with 19 million classed as overweight. The so-called obesity crisis is costing NHS England more than £6 billion a year while according to a recent World Health Organisation report, within ten years Britain is set to become the fattest nation in Europe, overtaking both Turkey and Malta. Keen not to be seen to be too nannyish but knowing he has to do something if only 'to save our NHS' the government is caught between a rock and a heavy place.

Are fondant fancies passé? Can you make a vegan scotch egg? Does anyone actually like cucumber sandwiches? The announcement that anyone can organise a street party over the Queen’s Jubilee long weekend (2-5 June) has sparked as much debate as excitement, as neighbours start planning menus. It’s been ten years since the Queen’s last Jubilee (Diamond in 2012) and a lot has changed in Britain’s culinary scene since then. Follow our lowdown to ensure your street party spread is the talk of the block. Scottish smorgasbordWow the street with a fresh fish platter The Queen has a soft spot for Scotland (Balmoral is her favourite of all her castles).

In the West End of London there is an alley which insinuates its way between the Charing Cross Road and St Martin’s Lane. It is called Cecil Court, and the Salisbury pub is close at hand. Those are clues. The area around Cecil Court has been owned by the Salisbury branch of the Cecil family since the 17th century. For a long period, it was not a salubrious area. At least one local was hanged. Others were transported. There may have been a whorehouse or two. The ambience resembled a cross between Fagin’s kitchen and Mistress Quickly’s Boar’s Head, with Doll tearing the sheets. Then everything changed, thanks to Victorian morality and political pressure. The Third Marquess of Salisbury was a devout churchman as well as a prime minister.

History suggests the Royal Family have always been enthusiastic drinkers. The most obvious example is Henry VIII, a monarch who proved to be excessive in everything he did, and spent an estimated £6m a year on booze. And in more recent centuries you’ll discover an ongoing Royal appreciation. Queen Victoria for example was an eminent imbiber of alcohol, her preferred poison being an unusual mix of whisky and red wine. Together. In the same glass. She was particularly partial to Vin Mariani, a drink made by Angelo Mariani by steeping cocoa leaves in French red wine for six months. Alleged to be the original recipe for Coca-Cola, each fluid ounce once contained 7.

Mixing red wine with Coca-Cola would have the great Roger Scruton turning in his grave. He wrote the wonderful book I Drink Therefore I am: A Philosopher’s Guide to Wine about the purity and life-enhancing joy of drinking wine properly. 'It enacts for us the primal unity of soul and body—the heart-warming liquid stirs us to meditation, seeming to bring with it messages that are addressed to the soul,' argued Scruton. Indeed, as I learned on my Camino through the vineyards of Spain and Portugal, imbibing for 11 months endless variations of remarkably affordable quality wines across the Iberian Peninsular, we are truly blessed to have wine. It was, after all, the centre piece of Jesus's first miracle at the marriage ceremony in Cana.

Cherries Jubilee is a dish with real heritage. Perhaps unsurprisingly, given its name, it was created to celebrate a jubilee: it is thought to have been created by Escoffier for Queen Victoria’s golden jubilee celebration in 1897. It consists of cherries cooked in flaming brandy, and then served warm over vanilla ice cream, although in the original dish it was even more pared down, lacking the ice cream element. The dish is flambéd, which means that the alcohol from the kirsch is ignited with an open flame, and cooked off quickly.

I went to a well-known Michelin-starred restaurant a few weeks ago and I hated every minute. The food was remarkable, of course, with every dish a picture and each morsel technically perfect. But the restaurant itself was ghastly and sterile. Fellow diners stared glassy-eyed at their plates, terrified of raising their voices. The prices were eye-watering and the staff arrogant and complacent. They seemed to hate us all. Two days later, I found myself in a much humbler establishment. The fare was first rate and the atmosphere jolly and bustling, but it was the warmth of the welcome that really struck me. It’s easy to find fine food; it’s less easy to find places that welcome you as if all they want in the world is your happiness.

There are many slightly pretentious ways to make an ordinary plate of food look beautiful. Powders, foams, and gels are all much favoured by Michelin chefs – though they generally don’t improve anything and make it look as if someone has spilt something on your dinner. But edible flowers are one cheffy trick that I do employ when I want to make something look special. Choose carefully and they provide not just a feast for the eyes but flavour and texture too. In the spring and summer months they bring a welcome floral elegance. And if you’re hosting a dinner party and don’t want to rely purely on the silkiness of your homemade pasta or the rise of your soufflé to wow your guests, a few edible flowers will leave them suitably impressed.

Put simply, a meal can be too much: too much pressure both on digestion and on the person you’re with. Europeans understand this, which is why they have such an exquisite pre-dinner offering – aperitivi that can extend late into the night, where non-committal drink follows non-committal drink and a lovely slew of small bites keep the hunger at bay. Aperitivi is also an opportunity to try some of the nicest drinks on offer, at least if you like quirky fizzy local wines, delicate roses, and homegrown cocktails. Can the bliss of aperitivi hour – or hours – be replicated in London, somewhere between pubs and restaurant meals? The answer is yes, and the capital offers varying degrees of decadence both of food and small plates.

We seem to need little excuse for a party here in the UK, and HRH Queen Elizabeth II’s 70-year shift on the throne is set to be no exception. Whether you’ll be raising a lunchtime gin and Dubonnet to our sovereign’s stamina or simply making the most of the bonus day away from your desk, the Jubilee is the perfect pretext for baking. While you’ve left it a little late to enter Fortnum & Mason’s rather fabulous sounding Platinum Pudding Competition, I urge you not to be deterred from donning your aprons and dusting off your cake tins.

I have been labouring under a misapprehension for some time, perhaps my whole life. I thought that the ‘offe’ in ‘banoffee pie’ was a reference to the thick, gooey toffee layer that sits between the biscuit base and the cream. But no, the ‘offe’ has nothing to do with what is, in any event, really a caramel, but the coffee flavour that should be folded through the cream topping. I’m not sure I’ve ever had a banoffee pie that features the sort-of-eponymous coffee, and I am relieved to discover that wide swathes of the internet (including the fallible wikipedia) has made the same mistake.

Being a city with tightly-packed buildings and frankly aggressive weather, London doesn’t immediately announce itself as a place to grab an alfresco drink. However, a renewed love of the great outdoors – something to do with being inside a lot recently, I imagine – has seen Londoners flock to the city’s terraces at the first rumour of spring. The good news is that among our optimistic outdoor drinking spaces there are some real gems, from rooftop bars to manicured terraces. These are some of the best. Roof Garden at Pantechnicon – Belgravia Head mixologist Gento Torigata – seen lately at Gibson Bar in Singapore – has put together a seriously impressive cocktail menu that unites Pantechnicon’s Japanese and Scandinavian influences.