Mr John Williams is a man who delights in delicate food. For 14 years, this South Shields lad – and he wouldn’t mind the phrase – has presided over the kitchens at The Ritz London producing astonishingly accomplished seasonal British food with a slight Gallic accent. As executive chef, he commands a brigade of 60 cooks and is more decorated than a Christmas tree: the Queen gave him an MBE, he was awarded a CME the French Government for services to French cuisine (the only British person to get such an honour), and Tatler gave him their Lifetime Achievement award. A Michelin star? Naturally. And yet, despite this, he is not as famed as he perhaps should be. As the great Ms Fay Maschler, restaurant critic of the London Evening Standard points out, “He is naturally self-effacing and makes no effort to hog the limelight which probably accounts for him not being a household name. But politicians and princesses know of his prowess.” Of course, it is nice to be feted by Royal Highnesses and cabinet ministers, but Mr Williams has embarked on a new endeavour that might just see him pushed slightly further into stardom; the publication of The Ritz London: The Cookbook.

“I am the luckiest man in the world,” Mr Williams writes, in the hotel’s first-ever cookbook. “When this place is in full swing and I walk down the long gallery… at that moment I feel as if I am a millionaire.”

Mr Williams’ route to the top of the tree at The Ritz began with a shipwreck in the South China Sea in 1752. Two hundred and thirty-three years later, in 1985, Mr Williams walked past The Ritz and saw a billboard. On it was advertised a dinner at the hotel served on bone plates recovered from the wreck. There and then, he decided he would one day work there.

The Ritz, of course, has been an institution ever since Swiss hotelier Mr César Ritz arrived from Paris and opened up shop in May 1906. Its dining room has welcomed everyone from Sir Winston Churchill to Ms Elizabeth Taylor, Mr Evelyn Waugh and HM the Queen (who did the conga through the halls on VE Day). Times change, however, and The Ritz, although admired, was in the doldrums in the 2000s. “The problem was that the menus had not changed since the beginning of the 20thCentury,” Mr Williams says. It wasn’t until the 1980s that the menus were translated into English. “One might expect The Ritz restaurant to be preserved in amber,” says Ms Lisa Markwell, food editor at The Times. “All wobbly wheeled dessert trolley and beige food. The fact that critics are as in love with it as the guests shows that Williams knows exactly how to keep luxury completely relevant – a real skill.”

There is no doubt that Mr Williams has a transformative genius. In 2016, the place was awarded its first Michelin star. “He has quietly worked away as one of London’s great hotel chefs and leads the way on how to run a five-star property properly without seeking attention,” says English restaurateur Mr Jason Atherton. “As a chef, he is patient, hardworking and a master technician. He is simply an inspiration to a whole generation.”

Let’s hope the cookbook inspires a brand new generation in the home kitchen, too. See below for a grouse recipe from the book that divulges some of Mr Williams’ culinary secrets from The Ritz.

• 6 grouse, oven ready
• Butter and sunflower oil, for browning, roasting and frying
• 13 ceps, 12 halved lengthways, 1 for shaving

For the pickled blackberries:

• 90ml (3fl oz) white balsamic vinegar
• 4 tbsp water
• 30g (1oz) caster sugar
• 1 bay leaf
• 5 black peppercorns, crushed
• 5 juniper berries, crushed
• 12 blackberries

For the celeriac purée:

• 500g (1lb 2oz) celeriac, peeled and chopped into thumbnail-sized pieces
• 200ml (7fl oz) milk
• 200ml (7fl oz) water
• 100g (3½oz) butter
• Sea salt flakes and pepper

For the spice mix:

• ¼ tsp finely ground juniper berries
• ¼ tsp ground nutmeg
• ¼ tsp ground cloves

For the jus:

• 12 juniper berries
• 400ml (14fl oz) chicken stock
• 20g (¾oz) butter, plus extra for frying

To finish:

• 10g (¼oz) finely chopped walnuts
• 30g (1oz) red buckler sorrel or oxalis leaves or wood sorrel
• 20g (¾oz) watercress

Here’s a wonderful dish of roasted grouse that exemplifies the greatness of the bird. We begin with blackberries. The foods that animals eat tend to be good accompaniments to the meat of the animal. Grouse enjoy blackberries. So it follows that the bird and the fruit will go well on the plate and the palate.

Pour the white balsamic vinegar and measured water into a saucepan. Add the sugar, bay leaf, peppercorns and juniper berries. Bring to the boil, then remove from the heat and leave the liquor to cool for 5 minutes. Pour it over the blackberries in a small bowl and leave to infuse for 20 minutes. Remove the blackberries and set them aside.

The dish is also accompanied by celeriac purée. Simply cook the celeriac in milk and water, with a large knob of butter for about 20 minutes until tender. Drain, reserving the cooking liquid, then blend to a purée with a stick blender, correcting the consistency by adding the poaching liquor as necessary. Season to taste and keep warm. Next, combine the ground juniper, nutmeg and cloves to make a spice mix. This will be brushed on to the grouse once it’s roasted. To cook the grouse, preheat the oven to 180˚C (350°F), Gas Mark 4. I tend to agree with Escoffier that the legs of game birds should not be served, as they can be tough and sinewy. Therefore the legs are removed but not discarded because they’ll be used for the jus stock: brown with a touch of juniper in foaming butter in a pan, pour in the chicken stock and leave to bubble for a few minutes.

Pass the sauce through a fine-mesh sieve and set aside. The grouse will be roasted on the crown (as they have no legs). First, they are browned for a couple of minutes on the stove in a large ovenproof pan of hot sunflower oil and foaming butter (lots of butter because game birds are not full of fat). Then they go into the oven for 8 minutes.

When the grouse emerge from the oven they should rest for 10 minutes on a board, loosely covered with foil. Grouse also have a penchant for mushrooms, so this dish calls for ceps, a majestic funghi. All of them – except for one – are sliced in half, scored lightly on the inner side and then pan-fried in butter and a little oil until perfectly golden brown. The one remaining cep meets the sharp side of a mandolin; these cep shavings will be a garnish.

To finish the jus, spoon away the excess fat in the grouse roasting pan, then deglaze the pan by pouring in the prepared grouse leg stock and scraping the base of the pan with a spatula. Heat the butter in a small saucepan and when it is foaming and has a nutty aroma, pour it into the pan and stir well. This is now ready to serve.

The skin is removed from the grouse and the breasts carefully sliced from the carcasses. Each breast is brushed with the juniper, nutmeg and clove spice mix. Only use a little of this seasoning: I’d prefer none rather than too much.

Each seasoned breast is placed on to the sauce on the plate and joined by a spoonful of celeriac purée. The roasted cep halves are placed on top of the purée, along with a couple of razor-thin slices of raw cep. Garnish with a pair of the pickled blackberries, chopped walnuts, buckler sorrel and watercress.