By Gillian Weir

"​Having spent most of my life on tour concertising around the world, and thus eating in restaurants and living in hotels, I have never really learned to cook, although I love good food and have been lucky enough to experience the best of so many of the world’s cuisines, exotic and otherwise, returning repeatedly to so many countries. 
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When newly married I did for a time try to become a model of domesticity, but as one embarrassment followed another I eventually gave in to the entreaties of my husband and unlucky guests and retreated habitually to the nearest good restaurant.  I remember with blushes the Christmas Day lunch when I attempted roast duck; innocent of the amount of fat a duck can release I was stunned when flames burst from the oven.  We were still clearing bits off the ceiling on Boxing Day.

​Then there was my first attempt to interpret the foreign language and grammar employed by cookery book writers:  ‘One clove garlic’, I read. I found I had a garlic or two nestling in the fridge;  I hadn’t a clue what a clove garlic was but hey, it couldn’t be too different from any other garlic, and I gaily tossed it into the mix.  The memory lingered on, as the song goes, for weeks . . .

A wise friend, who’d suffered from my occasional hospitality, said “Look, learn to cook two things properly, and when all the restaurants are on strike and famine stalks the land driving you into the kitchen you can triumphantly produce one or other of them to sustain life before thankfully retreating again from the fray.”
One of the chosen two is from the amazing Clarissa Dickson-Wright, known to millions as one of the wonderful Two Fat Ladies, whose hilarious programme series cheered our television screens up with their magnificent cream-rich confections and ecstatic enjoyment of food. 

Clarissa’s Galette des Rois recalls the old custom of appointing someone as the King of Mistlerule, chosen (we’re told) because he had found the bean in the cake on Christmas Eve, or in richer circles the gold ring. (I remember from my childhood the sixpence in the pudding.)  He would be crowned with a paper crown and then presided over the feast. This Galette des Rois made me think of when I was giving a recital in the Royal Festival Hall one January, at the time of the Eipiphany.  I’ve performed in that famous concert hall over 55 times (a record for any organist), and on this occasion I was giving the UK première of Messiaen’s Méditations sur le Mystère de la Sainte Trinité, playing from the manuscript he had given me.  The 6th movement of the 80-minute suite is based on the plainsong for Epiphany and opens with the theme for its Offertory:  “The Kings of Tharsis and the Isles shall offer presents; the Kings of Arabia and of Saba shall bring gifts.”

What better gift than a scrumptious plate of Galettes des Rois!"

Dame Gillian Weir

Dame Gillian Weir

Dame Gillian Weir is one of the world’s most celebrated concert organists. Born in New Zealand and brought up in Wanganui, she won a scholarship to study in London and, in 1964, won the St Albans International Organ Competition. Her performance of music by Olivier Messiaen helped begin a lifelong association with the composer.

While still a student, she made her Royal Albert Hall début as soloist in the Poulenc Organ Concerto. She went on to perform at major festivals and with leading orchestras around the world, becoming admired for her virtuosity and musicianship. She performed the Poulenc concerto no fewer than 65 times.

Gillian’s recordings of Messiaen’s complete organ works won wide acclaim, and her six-part BBC television series introduced the organ to millions of viewers. In 1996 she was made a Dame Commander of the British Empire—the only organist to receive that honour. She has also taught, written, broadcast and served as president of several leading musical organisations.

After some 2,000 performances over 48 years, she gave her final concert recital at Westminster Cathedral in 2012. She continues to share her knowledge through masterclasses and other musical activities.

You can read more on Gillian Weir’s website.

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