Charles and Camilla’s coronation quiche. What a mouthful. There is absolutely nothing regal about a quiche; the stalwart of beige lunch food. It is suited to street parties; it can be eaten hot or cold. It is pre-preparable and lasts days without going off. It could also double up as a doorstop to let your neighbours in when your street party is inevitably rained off. Why do we not question why this kitsch 70’s food still exists? It is essentially an omelette in a pastry case!? Madness. The Royal’s choice of quiche is niche. But, what does King Charles’ signature dish tell us about the state of our nation?
It feels like it’s supposed to be a ‘safe’ choice. Described as a ‘delicate’ combination of eggs, cheese, spinach, broad beans and tarragon, it sounds as if the aspiration was create something as non-controversial as possible. Charles and Camilla would have struggled to land any dish well after their own family outed them as part of a Netflix PR campaign. Not to mention that last year their sexy phone call story was re-leaked via The Crown (just in case anybody missed it the first time). They were never going to win, whatever culinary fare they chose.
Queen Elizabeth had coronation chicken, which, in my opinion, is equally as disgusting a dish. At least it has a pop of colour. It’d look lovely with the Paris filter on Instagram. You can envisage it, vibrant with morning light on a reel; a spread full of street party dishes with this as the centre piece. The chicken dish, crowned in 1953, has sinister roots with our history of the Commonwealth; stealing flavours from our shameful colonial past. Something you can imagine Charles and Camilla wanted to sweep under the expensive Buckingham Palace Indian rug. Charlie Boy has opted to keep things almost strictly British — you can understand why.
The ingredients are near-entirely local to Great Britain — with the exception of tarragon. I’m not a chef, but I think it silly that out of all the flavourings in the world, they’ve chose tarragon. Our pungent French herb of a cousin with his aniseedy after taste? The leaf works well with creamy French cuisine and over-accessorised, pretentious fish finger sandwiches. Pairing tarragon with baked cheese, milk and eggs? My stomach is curdling thinking about it. The hilarious thing: in an attempt to build something of a Brexit-bridge with our friends across the channel by opting for this francophile of an ingredient, the French have stated their pedantics on the naming of this dish. Apparently to them, this is not a quiche — it is a ‘tart’. It’s all over the news. That backfired, didn’t it?
Let’s talk about the broad beans. They do not have broad appeal. A good ol’ pea would be cheaper, more accessible and generally something which we might already have kicking about in our freezers. These bitter legumes are not that easy to find in a supermarket, need preparing and de-shelling, and most importantly, don’t taste all that nice. It’s all a bit too much faff.
The plus side, is that the Quiche du Coronation should be relatively cheap to make, due to the lack of over-priced meat or fish products included. It is also vegetarian. Islington and East London hipsters: rejoice. It also refreshing that Charles and Camilla have the self-awareness to know they may be one of the only couples in the current world who would have the money to buy enough prawns to feed their entire street (their back-up recipe was a multicultural shrimp taco). However, the broad beans and tarragon elements alienate those seeking something simple and make it fiscally higher end than a dish of this nature should be. For the boujee-gourmands, it feels like an experiment which didn’t make it through Ottolenghi’s test kitchen — and for good reason. Islington and East London hipsters: hold the rejoice.
The dish makes us, once again, the laughing stock of cultural cuisine. We are fodder for twitter memes and hilarious headlines. This quiche screams of our tentative identity. The Royals, just like everybody else with media presence nowadays, live in fear of getting it wrong. The quiche reeks of trying to play it safe; of ‘we are in the midst of a cost of living crisis’; or ‘the world is overheating due to our over-farming of livestock’. It screams: do not rock the boat. This uninspiring near-flan painfully addresses our desire to please everyone as a nation, yet, our lack of understanding it is near impossible to achieve. So, as the corrie-quiche suggests, in an attempt to try and win everyone over, you will please nobody. You will further irritate everyone.
The quiche is a cultural moment and a representation of our society in 2023. It is a little bit depressing, beige, and somehow, for all our advancements, can feel sometimes, as if we are still, stuck in the 70s.
Had the quiche and the coronation chicken last night . All for the good of the King