Simpson’s in the Strand creaks with a very specific kind of history. One of London’s oldest restaurants, this hospitality monolith dates back to 1828 and has the kind of beyond-the-grave guestlist that would make the doorman at Studio 54 puce with envy. Charles Dickens, Winston Churchill and Arthur Conan Doyle have all eaten here over the past two centuries. There’s even a few women too, who were finally unbanned from Simpson’s’ main dining room in 1984 (1984!).
It comes, like many things here, with lots of cabbage
Much like everything that’s almost 200 years old, Simpson’s had gotten rather dusty, but a covid-era shuttering gave new owner Jeremy King the chance to spruce the place up. Now re-opening after a six year spa-break, Simpson’s sparkles where once it spluttered.
King, who launched grande dames of London dining such as The Wolseley and Brasserie Zedel, knows how to make a restaurant feel impressive. The sprawling Simpson’s feels like a luxury hotel, and – much like Zedel – is a multi-space affair, featuring all-day cafe Romano’s, and two cocktail bars (Simpson’s Bar upstairs and Nellie’s in the basement). The bars cling on to their traditional roots, but unlike the main restaurant, are now kitted out in slightly more modern dress, sort of like seeing Cary Grant in a Palace hoodie. There’s also a ballroom, should you ever be in need of a ballroom.
The main restaurant, known as the Grand Divan, is breathtaking. The lighting is immaculate and the attention to detail second to none. Original Edwardian fixtures are polished to within an inch of their lives, and wall-to-wall dark wood makes the room feel like a grand Oxbridge dining hall. It’s been fitted out with lavish new banquette seating, napkins have buttonhole attachments (handier for the besuited men here, less than for the women), and gleaming silver carving trolleys wheel about the place dishing out tableside roast ribs of beef. There’s not a bad seat in the house.
We start with the most hypermasculine drink on the list; a bullshot aka a ‘stocktail’. Beef consomme, vodka and bloody mary spices, it’s a fittingly virile start to a meal in this most gentlemanly of rooms. Food is bracingly traditional, a sort of grandfather to St John in which few concessions to modern dining have been made. Our starter of Version tartare is tangy and staunch, and a generous shrimp cocktail creamily dressed with thick marie rose sauce and served in a silver coupe so heavy the suffragettes could have used it to smash a window.
The mains span pies of the day, boiled ham with parsley sauce, and a dish called ‘Tongue in cheek’, which is the kind of ancient dad joke that seems more than appropriate here. We order it, and are greeted with a huge hunk of ox cheek and some slivers of tongue in a quite medicinal peppercorn sauce. It comes, like many things here, with lots of cabbage. Old-school cabbage too, none of that hispi nonsense.
Puddings are of the boarding school variety. Alas the rhubarb crumble is sold out, but clementine jelly makes for a nursery-worthy substitution. At Simpson’s in the Strand, the food is perfectly fine, but it’s the atmosphere that’s truly exceptional.
The vibe Historical dining in a grand, gorgeous room.
The food Classic British fare with plenty of pies and puddings.
The drink Old school cocktails and lots of wine (much of it German).
Time Out tip Basement cocktail bar Nellie’s Tavern is open until 3am, if you finish dinner and don’t feel like leaving.