My Big Fat Royal Wedding Celebration

Julia didn’t get her invitation to Will and Kate’s royal wedding, so she held a big, fat wedding celebration for herself and a few friends, in France…

As a spectacle it was global. France, which put its own royalty to the guillotine, was so enamoured of the wedding of Prince William and Kate Middleton that the event was broadcast live on three separate television channels. Since the commentary is not always understandable because French TV pundits all talk at the same time about nothing and don’t know enough about British celebrities to keep us informed, we decided to watch it in English on our newly acquired box.

As we are not really committed royalists, we used the occasion to invite various French friends over for drinks and nibbles. Unlike the Royals, we didn’t dis-invite anyone. However, the ambassador of Syria shouldn’t feel too bad about his invitation to the wedding being re-called – we weren’t even invited to start with, so like gazillions of Brits we had the party chez nous.

Watching the Royal Wedding from Julia's home in Normandy

Like Kate Midddleton herself, I was “wowed*” by the number of people who travelled from far and wide, by plane, train, coach and car to BE there. The couple had actually wanted a quiet wedding! There were Aussies, Kiwis, Frogs, Yanks, Canooks, Taffies, Paddies, Jocks and all sorts. There were pop-up tents all along the Mall, bunting galore, flags and flasks phenomenal, lots of noise, jollity and revelry.

Prince William, appeared from his club on the Mall and strolled along shaking people’s hands and greeting them about 11pm the night before. The crowds were thrilled. There were campers in St. James Park, Hyde Park, and a really glamorous camp site on Clapham common where the Times reported “celebrity campers, rumoured to include Jade Jagger, have paid £3500 to “glamp” on the common.” They stayed in luxury tents lined with Rajasthani silk and carpeted in sheepskin. Champagne and cocktails were served on demand.

We just set out 10 chairs we have and invited 10 people to fill them. I rushed about like a wild cat in the preceding days – up and down to the shops. We had a big champagne** party (actually, mostly sparkling wines as I am too mean to pay for champagne as it gives me indigestion – from which I am suffering as I type. I nevertheless got stuck in and raised my glass (several times, in fact) between serving up an excessive amount of amuse-bouches – little tasty nibbles. I say excessive because I had loads left over so was obliged to continue quaffing and tasting for the following few days. That might explain the indigestion.

Food for a king is the fare at Julia's royal wedding watching party

On the Big Day I was up and in my kitchen by 8 am, albeit in my nightie and curlers surmounted by my chef’s apron. A few weeks ago, I had tried out several shop prepared pastries to save me all that rolling out folding and turning and prepared what looked like mince pies but which were three types of meat pie — wild boar (I cleaned out the freezer), curried chicken (left overs), and rabbit and mustard (a traditional Norman dish but not usually served in a pie).

Wedding watcher food, truly royal

I saved up the pastry off-cuts and filled up tiny tart moulds (about 2 cms across) ready for fillings on the day. I usually put a tomato salsa in one set, bake it off and then put an olive on the top just before serving, make another set into tiny Quiche Lorraines, fill others with that gorgeous olive paste called tapenade (which I can now buy ready made) and garnish the top of these with half a small cherry tomatoe or a small piece of goat’s cheese. You can fill them with anything tasty and piquante. I baked and froze all the tartlets and filled and garnished them on the day, when just before serving I shot them into a very hot oven for seven minutes to crisp up the de-frosted pastry.

Verrines are all the rage now so I had to be up to date. These are little plates or glasses whose fillings are layered and eaten with little spoons and forks. These have to be carefully prepared to prevent seepage and kept very cool to avoid food poisoning. I put a prawn and cream cheese base in some, topped by cooked, pureed zucchini with dill and trout eggs. Another had ratatouille topped by spicy couscous and tiny spicy olives.

Regal Amuse Bouches

I used some traditional things like andouille slices (a sausage made of coiled intestinal casings which can taste awful but lots of people like the strong taste) topped with salsa or slices of black pudding topped with home made apple puree. In some dishes, I put blinis (pre-toasted) topped with foie gras and apple and ginger chutney.

Then I launched into the tapas made on toasted French baguette: these were covered with either fine-ground tinned sardines or finely chopped tomatoes (as for bruschetta), or foie gras/aubergine puree/ ratatouille and I topped them with slices of Feta, anchovies, quail eggs, half cherry tomatoes, and home-made mayonnaise.

There were two verrines of desserts – one was a small sherry trifle and the other raspberries cooked in Sparkling red wine and mint topped with almond macaroons and a blob of Benedictine-flavoured cream mixed with dried fruit and chocolate shavings.

When the first guest arrived at 10.30, I was caught in my curlers and nightie running up the driveway from the old house with trays of food. I managed a shower (but not a tooth clean) before the onslaught. Bleary-eyed and bushy haired, I greeted and seated my guests. I must say that Auntie Beeb (as the BBC is affectionately known) also put on a good show. So that made three of us.

The interior of Westminster Abbey was filmed to perfection. The long shots of the bride and father processing down the aisle towards the gilded rood screen, through the grove of trees and flowers, were breathtaking. Parry’s music was brazen, thunderous and grandiose, filling the cathedral to the rafters. Several shots, taken from high in the nave were spectacular, dramatic and worthy of a Spielberg film (I was actually reminded of the scene in Lawrence of Arabia when Peter O’Toole rides, mirage-like, over the shimmering horizon to huge music).

Parry’s rousing music and my favourite moving hymn “Guide me, O thou Great Redeemer” were suitably contrasted by the beautiful motet “Where there is Love, there is God” (Ubi Caritas, see it on Youtube) so gently and sweetly rendered by the Westminster choir as Kate and William went off to sign the register next to Edward the Confessor’s tomb. I loved too the singing of the hymn “Jerusalem” which carries such resonance of the last war, when it was often sung to stir hearts and inspire patriotism. It didn’t miss the mark this time for the crowds outside joined in too. I adored the “Wilt thous” and the St. James version of the Bible, especially the St, Paul epistle so beautifully read by Kate’s brother.

On the whole, this royal occasion was suitably theatrical, and the Beeb’s follow ups in the evening news with scenes of ecstatically joyous street parties and some equally fun-filled Republican parties fulfilled the function of a chorus line ending to the show. Although the crowds in Central London were as racially mixed as one would expect, there was only one street party in Hall Green in Birmingham that had different races present and the street parties shown from Yorkshire had only white faces.

Some music journalists found the music saccharine and slick in places, some carped that it was a very Sloaney wedding (for the young, monied and tasteless in-crowd, I suppose – the remark was certainly not a compliment); one famous historian found that instead of uniting Britain, the wedding showed a nation divided into haves and have-nots and even went so far on television to say the Middletons were really more American than true British. (The British are sometimes quite jealous of people with “can-do” attitudes and who make their own money). Some journalists also mentioned that some palace people or minor royals were not happy about the “balloon-touting family from Berkshire”.

Poor Kate and William. Starting their life together and already people are being critical, censorious, carping, and snide.

Well, most of those attitudes are what did it for Diana, who wasn’t mature enough to cope with over the top criticism plus an unfaithful husband.

Sweet Kate is a horse of a different colour and, let it be said, a different breed.

So, as the Beatle’s said, “Let it be.”

* One newspaper employed a lip-reader and Kate said ‘Wow’ when she came out on the balcony.

** Alternatives to Champagne: Spanish Cava, Clairette de Die, Blanquette de Limoux, Prosecco – Italian, Asti Spumante – Italian, Lambrusco – Red Italian

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