Old London town for the chop?

With its Georgian charm, cholesterol inducing dishes and a heavily enforced pre-smartphone era etiquette, Simpson's Tavern was not just a restaurant, but a ‘proppa’ place. City folk have therefore been left understandably bereft following the news that it is having to close its doors, which first opened in 1757.

A place to meet, greet and plot, Simpson’s wood-panelled walls have no doubt been witness to some of London’s biggest deals and failures, fuelling the City with a strict diet of chops and sausages during the good and bad times.  Like my old history teacher who insisted on wearing a cloak, Simpson’s embraced its own quirkiness. Even its location, tucked away in a hiding hole around the corner from The Royal Exchange, was awkward.

But there was nothing anonymous or passive about the red-painted two-floored restaurant inside. You were forced to make new fleeting friends thanks to Simpson’s booths which could accommodate at least two different dining parties.

Then there was the music and the waiters, who may actually have a full-blown conversation with you.  The whole experience was counter to the ultra-hygienic, supply-chain-esque one that has overtaken the hospitality industry in recent post-pandemic years. Sure, it pays the bills, but it doesn’t help the soul.

If Simpson’s is the first ‘proppa’ place to go, how many more will we lose when we hit January, when the Christmas rush is over and a bleak economic winter will have taken its toll? It won’t just be old London town falling.