Food History

The banquet was a raging success. I have had so many verbal reports from so many people, plus a queue of people who want to join the testing ranks for next year. We don’t have a theme yet for next year, but when we do, the whole process starts again. I ought to be terrified, but I am just excited.

Just under 90 people turned up. A whole heap of them were in costume (including Garth Nix, as promised) and most of us were photographed. When someone puts the photos online, I’ll link.

After the 2 courses that were served at table, we adjourned to the foyer and I took over a half hour to eat my desserts, simply because everyone had so many questions to ask. After that, I was kept there another hour or so by more questions. More and more came up during the following days, and everyone was deeply enthusiastic about it. This is an historian’s dream.

This post is mainly to tell you what instructions the chef was given. In the following posts (each day till I run out of recipes, though I might take a break in the middle) you’ll find my recipes and notes on what the differences between the home cooked versions (from the testing) and the chef’s interpretation were.

You’ll be able to spot the pages concerning the Regency Gothic Banquet because I’ll use the same picture for them all - makes it simple for me and convenient for you.

So, what did I write on my note to the chef? Firstly, I stuck to contemporary English. The chef wanted historical cooking, not a lesson in language. I pointed out that the recipes were all from recipe books and private notebooks dating c 1795-1820. I explained the standard menu and gave suggestions about service. I also explained very straightforwardly which option I preferred and why and he followed that suggestion.

My preferred form of service was each table served everything for that table (last year we had issues with dishes being spread unevenly and arriving at odd intervals). The only dish I suggested be actually put in front of diners by the waitstaff was the soup. Interestingly, the gap between the soup and the rest of the course it arrived with was long: I suspect the chef saw it as a palate cleanser rather than one of a set of dishes. This service worked brilliantly, despite the delay after the soup.

The table was set very formally (8 at a table, which proved the perfect number for a sociable evening - we had one of the convention guests at each table, too, which also worked well).

I took some liberties with the amount of vegetable served over an evening, to suit coeliacs
and with vegetarians, and both groups felt they had a good meal. The chef also took some liberties, mainly with the amount of butter he used. There was no way we could have eaten all those dishes if they had been as rich as they had been two hundred years ago, so it was a sensible decision, even if it took away from the authencity.

When convention-goers asked, I explained the loss of 40% of the fat, and there was a universal sigh of relief. To a person, they were happy to sacrifice flavour for lowering in richness. If I were cooking this menu at home, I would do it with all the butter and cream, but I would start eating earlier and finish much, much later. A four hour meal works with rich food - two hours for three courses needs less fat.

Tomorrow, some recipes. In the meantime (since some of you have come to the blog specifically to read the Regency Banquet posts) you might want to start your reading here.

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