'It soothed the most vicious of hangovers, the only possible justification for that ghastly thing called brunch': Tom Parker Bowles talks eggs Benedict

Foxtrot Oscar. A classic old Chelsea restaurant that, not uncoincidentally, happened to share its initials with the British military term for ‘get the hell out of here’. Or words to that effect.

Yet Foxtrot Oscar, on Royal Hospital Road, was one of London’s louche and lovely greats. Joe, the barman, shook up restorative bullshots, as racing from Epsom, Ascot or wherever played eternally on televisions above. Dogs were not so much wel- comed as embraced, the ever-pulchritudinous waitresses plucked from the pages of Debrett’s and the idea of lunch without a drink tantamount to treason. The only real sin here was being rude to staff. Quite right, too.

At its heart was the late, great Mike Proudlock. With film-star good looks and lashings of charm, he was a restaurateur of the old school, ensuring glasses were kept brimming over, cigarettes lit (Foxtrot was a smoker’s paradise) and kümmel on crushed ice in constant supply. Le patron always manged ici. I had my 18th birthday party there — and my 21st. Both times, things got rather out of hand and a couple of friends fell asleep in the loos, only to wake up, after midnight, to find themselves locked in. Hey ho. Those were the days.

The food was never really the point, mainly classic British nursery, with a slight American twang. Potted shrimp and herring roe on toast, steak-and-kidney pie, a burger and a fairly edible fishcake. One dish stood out above all others, however: eggs Benedict, a golden-hued, oozing eggy beacon, both blessedly simple and slyly sophisticated. Take an English muffin, split, toast, top with a thick slice of good English ham, then a poached egg, soft boiled, and drape with an excess of hollandaise sauce. It soothed the most vicious of hangovers, the only possible justification for that ghastly thing called ‘brunch’.

As ever with recipes of such renown, there are endless pretenders to its culinary crown. In one story, a retired stockbroker by the name of Lemuel Benedict turns up at The Waldorf Hotel in New York, sometime in about 1894, with a monstrous hangover. He demands ‘buttered toast, poached eggs, crispy bacon and a hooker of hollandaise’. The chef replaces the toast with English muffins, the bacon with ham, and so eggs Benedict was born.

Not true, argues Edward P. Montgomery in a letter sent to The New York Times in 1967. No, the dish was in fact invented by a Commodore E. C. Benedict, who had passed on the recipe to Montgomery’s uncle. It most certainly wasn’t, retorts Mrs Mabel C. Butler in yet another missive to the newspaper. The ‘true story’ behind the original recipe was ‘well known to the relations of Mrs Le Grand Benedict’, a lady who asked for ‘poached eggs on toasted English muffins with a thin slice of ham, hollandaise sauce and a truffle on top’ at Delmonico’s, also in New York, sometime around the turn of the century.

The truth is more prosaic, in that the recipe had probably existed for some time before them all, albeit under a different name. Anyway, eggs Benedict first appeared in a cookbook, Eggs, and How To Use Them, published in 1898, and quickly became an American classic.

Foxtrot Oscar has gone the way of all flesh, but the memories still endure. For those looking for a taste of the real thing, that master restaurateur Jeremy King is your man. His version at Le Caprice (see recipe below) was every bit the equal to those in Chelsea — as they are now at Arlington (or Caprice II: The Return), SW1, and The Park, W2. It just goes to show that times may change, but good eggs Benedict endure forever.

Recipe: Eggs Benedict

This comes from Le Caprice, the cookbook that combines the words of A. A. Gill with the recipes of Mark Hix. Don’t panic about the hollandaise: the key is to add the first two thirds of the butter in a slow trickle. If it splits, take it off the heat, reserve the mixture, clean the bowl and add another egg yolk. Then whisk the split sauce slowly back in.

Ingredients — serves 4

For the hollandaise sauce

70ml white-wine vinegar
80ml water
2 small shallots, peeled and chopped
A few sprigs tarragon
1 bay leaf
10 black peppercorns
400g unsalted butter
5 medium egg yolks
Salt and freshly ground white pepper

To serve

8 slices kasseler (or English) ham
4 English muffins
8 medium eggs
400g of the hollandaise sauce

Method

• To make the hollandaise sauce, place the vinegar, water, shallots, herbs and peppercorns in a saucepan and reduce the liquid to about a tablespoonful. Strain and put aside.

• Melt the butter and simmer it for 5–10 minutes. Take off the heat, leave to cool a little, then pour off the pure fat where it has separated from the whey and discard the whey. This helps to keep the sauce thick.

• Put the egg yolks in a small stainless-steel bowl with half the vinegar reduction and whisk over a pan of gently simmering water until the mixture begins to thicken and become frothy.

• Slowly trickle in the butter, whisking continuously; an electric hand whisk will help. If the butter is added too quickly, the sauce will separate. When you have added two-thirds of the butter, taste the sauce and add a little more or all of the reduction. Then put in the rest of the butter. The sauce should not be too vinegary; the vinegar should just cut the oiliness of the butter.

• Season with salt and pepper, cover with clingfilm and leave in a warm, not hot, place until needed. The sauce can be reheated over a bowl of hot water and lightly whisked again.

• To serve, lightly toast the muffins and soft-poach the eggs. Place the ham on the muffin with the poached egg on top and coat it with a couple of generous spoonfuls of the hollandaise.