For forty-four years the royal yacht Britannia served Queen Elizabeth II and her family. It took the royal family to 135 countries and on 968 official visits, steaming a total of 1,087,623 nautical miles. I—lucky chef—got to travel on some of those trips. In fact, during my years as a palace chef, I traveled to Australia and New Zealand, America, Malta, Sicily, Iceland, and France. And while I’ll never be a hardy sailor—trust me on this—working on Britannia was an amazing introduction to people and places all over the globe.
HMY Britannia was a glorious vessel, able to accommodate nearly sixty guests for a royal dinner or as many as two hundred people for a “meet and greet” cocktail party. Stem to stern she measured more than 412 feet. The yacht was beautifully appointed with long sweeping staircases between levels; a grand formal dining room that hosted the rich, famous, and influential; and private suites used by honeymooning royals, including Princess Diana and Prince Charles.
I speak in the past tense because Britannia was decommissioned in 1997. By that time the yacht needed major retrofitting. The expense to do this was considerable, and the British government decided that the funds could better be used elsewhere. So, Britannia was sent to Edinburgh, Scotland, where she is now permanently anchored.
If Windsor Castle depicts all that is best about England, then Britannia put the “great” in Great Britain. The yacht would slowly glide into port with every sailor dressed up in pure white “number ones” and lined up side by side around the yacht, like a white ribbon around an immense gift. The Royal Marine Band, also in full uniform, would be playing on the top deck “Anchors Away” or “Rule Britannia.” The entrance of Britannia into port was always an unabashed moment of pure spectacle and a royal reminder of British imperial glory. For all of us on deck, well, we stood a little taller and our heads were held high. We were proud to be British.
SUMMERTIME SAILING
At the beginning of August every year, Britannia sailed out of Portsmouth, heading toward the Isle of Wight for the annual Cowes Week racing regatta. Cowes Week yacht racing began in 1826, and today is the longest running and most prestigious international sailing regatta in the world. The event, which lasts eight days, takes place in the Solent waters off Cowes. This locale was picked for its sheltered waters and unusual tidal conditions that make it a challenging spot for even experienced racers. About one thousand yachts compete each year and the participating yacht clubs assemble their best teams of seasoned sailors who compete in these waters year after year. The Duke of Edinburgh loved competing in the races and I think that Cowes Week was his absolutely favorite time on board Britannia.
An informal royal staff photo on Western Isles. I’m actually in the first row this time—very rare!
For the staff, Cowes Week was relatively easy. The Duke was often the only royal member of the family on board, and entertaining was primarily between the Duke and his friends, other avid yachtsmen. Tied to a buoy in the Solent, Britannia had one of the best views of the races, and the Duke and his guests were enthusiastic spectators when they weren’t competing. The yacht was anchored so close to the action that on one occasion another yacht named Scorcher got entangled in Britannia’s white flag, ripping it off altogether.
Her Majesty and the rest of the family would join Britannia later in Southampton, and then the entire family would sail for ten days through the Western Isles of Scotland. The Western Isles are beautiful. A lush landscape dotted with grazing sheep and green, green, green. But all that green means lots of rain, and I’ll admit that occasionally I would long for a bit of sunshine. Princess Diana felt the same way. I remember her commiserating with me one day on board Britannia.
Superman—with a little help!
“We always make a wrong turn on this trip, don’t we Darren?” She asked me once. “We should be making a left out of Southampton and heading to the Mediterranean, not up to the Western Isles!”
I didn’t hear any complaints from the rest of the family, though. The trip would be a leisurely zigzag from island to island, and the family would disembark for a picnic lunch or a hike about. Occasionally, while the royals were ashore, I’d watch the sailors fishing for mackerel, and if I was lucky, I’d persuade them to let me have a few to cook for the royal table. There were also fishermen who would pull up alongside the boat during the day, trying to sell a bit of their catch. It was really very peaceful. Meals were family affairs and there was very little official entertaining. Occasionally William and Harry would grow restless. I remember that once as a treat, a sailor dressed up as Superman and was tethered from a line of a helicopter flying overhead. The boys were convinced he was flying.
The highlight of the trip was visiting the Queen Mother at the Castle of Mey. The family would pull into Scrabster Harbor on a Sunday at lunchtime and head up to the castle for tea. In retrospect the small town of Thurso was quite remote, but after docking at nearly deserted islands for a week, Thurso felt quite continental with its one streetlight and pay phone! The family would rejoin the yacht in the evening. As we sailed out of Scrabster Harbor we would pass by the Queen Mum’s castle. Britannia’s sailors would set off flares in front of the castle, and the castle staff would, in turn, set off fireworks to honor the passing ship. It was a lovely tribute from mother to daughter and made for a stunning nighttime sky.
SAILING ABROAD
On foreign trips, Britannia was the Queen’s home away from home. Though Her Majesty might be on foreign turf, she would also use Britannia to give her guests a sense of Great Britain. So we didn’t stray too far into local cuisine. I imagine, in fact, that some of our guests over the years thought the traditional British food we served was quite exotic! In order to replicate that English “feel,” the provisions that stocked the yacht’s larder were often packed and sent by the palace chefs before the trip.
For example, if the trip was to Australia, the dry provisions (coffee beans, sugar, tea, flour, Bendix bitter mints, Malvern water, etc.) would be loaded on board while the yacht was docked at Portsmouth as it readied to sail. For the next six weeks Britannia would wend her way down under and dock. Then the chefs would be flown from London to Australia, with hampers of all the perishable items and kitchen equipment we might need for Her Majesty’s tour stowed on board.
Very important Britannia safety information
Once abroad, all staff—whether on deck or on shore—represented Her Majesty and England. You were expected to be on best behavior and always properly attired. In fact, each staff member was fitted beforehand with a made-to-measure suit. If you weren’t in chef whites, then you were expected to be in a suit—especially when embarking and disembarking Britannia. I’ll admit it was a real pain having to shower and change into a suit just to pop ashore for a postcard.
Two especially memorable trips for me on Britannia were my very first trip in 1984 to France and a later trip to the United States in 1991. That first trip was a short one across the English Channel in June of 1984. Along with forty staff members, I hopped the train from London to Portsmouth. As I walked toward the yacht that first time, I was struck by its colors. Britannia had a dark blue hull with a red rudder sticking out of the water and a band of gold leaf encircling the top of the hull. I found out later that the Queen had chosen these colors to match Prince Philip’s dragon-class racing yacht, Bluebottle.
I headed up the gangplank following the other four chefs through the galley kitchen and down to my cabin located right next to the propellers. Their insistent thumping would lull me to sleep at night whenever I sailed on Britannia. The room was compact with a tiny bed, a closet, and a writing desk. On the desk was a booklet informing me to head to life raft station 12 in the event that the yacht began to sink. Funny, I hadn’t thought of that.
I started to feel slightly queasy and sat down for a moment on the bed, keenly aware of the slight rocking of the ship. Well, there was no way out now. I changed into my chef whites, grabbed my knife case, and headed back up to the kitchen. After wandering the ship for fifteen minutes, I conceded defeat and asked a passing sailor if he would be so kind as to take me to the royal galley. I was lost and embarrassed.
Of Mice and Men
In Tampa there was a rare free day when the Queen was being hosted at an onshore event. Several chef mates and I decided that a trip to Florida wasn’t complete without a trip to Disney World. A chauffeured Lincoln Town Car was at our disposal, and properly suited up, we all piled in. As we approached Orlando, we asked our chauffeur to please pull into the nearest McDonald’s.
We received plenty of stares as the black limo pulled into the parking lot and out stepped half a dozen men in finely cut suits all carrying small bags. Once inside McDonald’s, we all ducked into the nearest restroom for a quick change into shorts and summer shirts. The suits just had to go! Now we were ready for a day with the big mouse and we jumped back into the limo —burgers in hand.
By the next morning the yacht had pulled into the city of Caen, and a crowd was gathered on Pegasus Bridge to greet us. We docked early and got busy preparing a lunch banquet for the king of Norway, the king of Belgium, the queen of the Netherlands, the Grand Duke of Luxembourg, and others. On the menu was Avocado Britannia (quite fitting), a tender braised stuffed chicken in a Champagne sauce, carrots and broccoli in hollandaise, and parsleyed jersey potatoes. For dessert I made an ice cream soufflé with wild strawberries. It was a menu befitting our royal guests and a well-dealt response to our French critics who always said that the Brits couldn’t cook!
Royal Gifts
I was always amazed by the gifts Her Majesty received. Some were lavish, like the gold figurine of a camel underneath two gold palm trees—a gift from the emir of Qatar. Some gifts were useful, like ties, scarves, and cufflinks; and some gifts were downright weird. In Florida, Her Majesty was presented with two sea cows to commemorate her visit. When we heard this, we chefs looked at each other in puzzlement. Were we expected to cook them? Fortunately they were just to be named by the Queen and then released back into the wild.
The Queen always gives a gift in return, and it is always the same — a signed photo of herself.
Later that day, Britannia weighed anchor and headed to Arrowmanches to take part in the fortieth anniversary of the landing at Normandy and then sailed back home. It had been a successful first trip for me. The banquet had gone well, I hadn’t been seasick, and the yacht had stayed afloat. I never did find out where life raft station 12 was.
By the time I traveled to the United States in 1991 I was a seasoned chef on Britannia. That trip, however, marked my first time to America. The yacht docked in Miami for a week and then sailed on to Tampa. I’m not sure what I expected, but Florida took me completely by surprise. It was so tropical with lush vegetation everywhere. Warm breezes blew off the water and the night sky was a soft blue. Even though I was working hard, I felt completely relaxed and totally spoiled. I had flown from London on the Concorde, and now here I was with brilliantly clear waters beneath and sunshine overhead.
I remember that the trip was a big success for the Queen. There was a beautiful banquet for Presidents Ford and Reagan and their wives, Governor Lawton Chiles, future Governor Jeb Bush, Senators Bob Graham and Connie Mack, as well as a host of others. For that event we prepared Oeufs Drumkilbo, using the finest Maine lobsters. That was followed with a saddle of lamb, which had been boned and stuffed with a chicken mousse and then garnished with asparagus tips and a Madeira sauce. I remember sending out a beautiful cold lemon soufflé as dessert.
Menu for Presidents Reagan and Ford
After the banquet, the Queen hosted a formal cocktail party on deck for two hundred guests. That wasn’t at all unusual, but it meant we chefs had to move quickly. So as soon as the royal dining table was cleared (including all twenty-four fruit bowls, which were dismantled and the remaining fruit stowed back down below) we turned our thoughts to canapés and food for the reception. Guests would arrive on board expecting lots to drink and eat while enjoying music performed by the Royal Marine Band. Appetizers had to be small, single-bite affairs, which could be swallowed quickly should a guest suddenly be introduced to a member of the royal family. Popular canapés were things like tartlets filled with finely chopped chicken in a mild curry sauce, smoked salmon roulades, or the ever-popular mini sausage roll.
Several years later when I was working for Princess Diana, we would have a recurring conversation about America. “Really, Darren,” she would say, “we must go live there someday.”
My reply was always the same. “Yes, your Royal Highness. I would like that.” That trip to Florida had made a strong impact on me indeed!
IN THE GALLEY
It was amazing how much food five palace chefs could produce in Britannia’s tight kitchen quarters. There were two kitchens as part of the royal galley, one for pastry and the other, the main kitchen, for everything else. The pastry “kitchen” was really a pastry workspace since it had no oven. It was just a ten-foot-long galley with a small scuttle hole that let you look outside onto the sea.
The main kitchen was about twice as big as the pastry kitchen and included a scullery area, a vegetable prep area, and the main cooking space. In the center of the galley was a square stainless steel table that four chefs worked around. It had lips on the end to stop any dishes from sliding off. Behind that worktable were two stoves with two ovens underneath, and off to the side were two convection ovens, primarily for pastry and always kept at 350 degrees. Two broilers, two small refrigerators, and a bain marie made up the rest of the galley. Not much equipment for a floating palace kitchen, but we made it work.
Beat Retreat
At a cocktail reception, the Royal Marine Band always finishes the evening with a drum cadence to “beat retreat.” This military tradition dates back to the 1500s when Britain was often engaged in wars against its European neighbors. It was agreed by both warring parties that as soon as it got dark, fighting would end. So drums would beat a cadence at dusk to signal troops to halt fighting and “retreat” back to camp.
Through the years, this drumming tradition became associated with the lowering of the British flag each evening. On Britannia, all guests would stand on the two upper decks and look out on the floodlit mast. The Royal Marine Band would march back and forth on the quay side until the flag was lowered. Once done, guests knew the party had come to an end and it was time to disembark.
In the pastry kitchen, laughing at the “bullet hard” mangoes they had sent me for royal dinner
Oddly enough, the main storage fridge was located three decks below, shared with the yacht’s other two galleys. Need more tomatoes? You would have to contact the dedicated sailor assistant, with the rank of “leading hand,” to go down and bring it up for you. Want to take a look at the pears and make sure they will be ripe for tomorrow’s banquet? The leading hand would have to negotiate three flights of stairs to fetch them for you and the same again to take them back—regardless of how calm or rough the sea might be.
Now when I say three flights down, it wasn’t via the ship’s staircases. The actual route from one floor to another on the working part of the yacht was via ladders. On Britannia you climbed up and down ladders all the time. But it was a little tricky to climb when you also had your hands full with a tray of chocolate mousse. The leading hand would balance food boxes and trays on his shoulders and climb up and down the ladders balancing his load as best he could.
Occasionally a tip in the swelling seas would result in a box flying off his shoulders and back down onto the floor. More than once I would get a box of really bruised fruit, but I didn’t dare complain. Being the leading hand was a brutal job and that sailor had all my sympathy. Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to fetch them myself. Civilians, “civvies” as the “yachtees” affectionately called us, were banned from going below decks and carrying food up. It was deemed unsafe.
Waves Outside and Inside
I loved Britannia most when we were docked! I’m a chef, not a sailor, and I’ve never been able to handle sailing in bad weather. Once after a successful state visit to Australia we set sail for New Zealand and headed out to the Bass Strait, a body of water notorious for its rough swells. Cheese soufflé was on the menu that night for dinner instead of something easy like cold pudding.
As I was cooking, the Queen’s page kept coming through the galley and announcing that the head count for dinner was dropping. By this time I’d broken out in a sweat and my hands were clammy, but I was determined to see the soufflés finished before heading down to my cabin. Just to check, I opened the oven and saw the soufflés wobbling back and forth in their silver dishes, in tempo with the yacht’s sway. That did it. Everything in the room started to wobble. I was able to serve the soufflés, but shortly thereafter I joined the others who couldn’t stomach the seas.
There was a certain rhythm to cooking on Britannia. As soon as you boarded you checked all your provisions to make sure nothing had been lost between the palace and the yacht. Chefs traveled with their own knives and chef whites for just that reason. After that you started getting tea ready. The timing was tight. If the chefs were on board, that meant in a few hours the Queen and the rest of the royal entourage would be boarding.
So you finished prepping for tea (the tea cakes had already been made and transported) and you immediately began setting up fruit bowls, which would be sent to all the royal staterooms. Tins of fresh leaves would have been packed alongside the food, and we used those as decoration. There wouldn’t be any more once we were out at sea. When that was done, we put up gallons of lemon refresher. Lemon refresher is a kind of early lemonade with the unusual addition of Epsom salts.
Civvies at work in the royal galley
Since Epsom salt is also a slight natural laxative, we always had to be right on when measuring out this recipe! The family loved it and we always made up a big batch once on board. We would also take out the butter pats and make hundreds of tiny butter balls which could be frozen ahead and used on bread plates for dinner. Some chefs would be making quarts of salad dressing, either French vinaigrette or a creamy chive dressing. Salad was always served at mealtimes, and making lots of dressing in advance saved time.
I would fall into the routine after a few days. It always took me a little while to get my sea legs and to figure out how to work the tight quarters. Also, I had to adjust my cooking to take into account weather conditions. Cooking in warmer climates could be difficult. If the weather was hot and muggy, icings and gelatins wouldn’t set and refrigeration wasn’t close by. Sometimes I’d sneak a cake into the air-conditioned dining room just to cool the frosting down to the right temperature.