The Artful Diner does a bit of research into the London chop house...

Recently I have been trying to find out a bit more about the history of London’s chop houses and have, in the process, discovered a number of charming books by latter-day London restaurant critics. They have titles like The Taverns in the Town (1937) and London at Dinner: Where to Dine in 1858. There’s one in particular called Where to Dine in London, which I like because it’s written by my 1930s contemporary, the Bon Viveur.

More than just a chop…

I wanted to discover what chop houses were really like. Of course, chops of some sort were central to the experience, but there was more to it than that. By the mid-eighteenth century, London was home to a host of chop houses, from Dolly’s Chop House in St Paul’s Churchyard (close to today’s Paternoster Chop House) to Simpson’s in Cornhill.

Chop houses were known for their fast service and traditional English food. Traditional, however, didn’t mean boring. We’re talking fried Dover sole, leg of mutton, pigeon pie, steak and kidney pudding, hot punch, Lancashire hotpot, jugged hare with redcurrant jelly or braised lambs’ tongues served with spinach. Scotch sirloin was roasted on an open fire and served with vegetables and Cheddar cheese. And, my own personal favourite, ‘Ye toasted cheese’ was served at, of course, Ye Olde Cheshire Cheese, a type of chop house whose particular secret was to loosen its cheese with beer instead of milk.

No Artful Diner here, thanks, we’re English

Furnished with boxes and wooden or curtained partitions as well as benches, chop houses were generally seething with activity and full of men. One of the best known, Stone’s Chop House in Panton Street, remained men-only until 1921. No Artful Diner allowed there, then.

Fortunately, as my friend the Bon Viveur explains: “Men at that time suddenly realised that a feminine companion enhanced rather than detracted from a Dover sole. The portals were thrown wide open and new customers graced the benches.” Inevitably, some still felt their Dover sole rather affronted, as he notes “the retreat of the aged regulars in high dudgeon”.

Faith in tradition

The essence of chop houses was their faith in tradition, rather than the new-fangled continental cookery that caused a “revolution” in London in the mid-1860s. Chop house proprietors prided themselves on the fact their recipes dated back hundreds of years; it’s the same basis for many of the chop houses today. As Bruce Wilson, head chef at Paternoster Chop House, says: “This isn’t about being a ground-breaking restaurant. With any dish I cook, I try to find the most original recipe.” (In the coming weeks you can see Bruce's classic chop house recipes on The Artful Diner and Paternoster Chop House sites.)

What a haven is this place

Writing in the age of Dickens, the unknown author of London at Dinner perhaps summed up their enduring appeal:

“What a haven is this place on a cold, hard winter’s day, when business perhaps has been bad and the world seems full of Scrooges. How the meat on the grill whistles you a welcome as soon as you open the door and chirps, ‘Try me, only try me! I am the most succulent! I’ll cheer you up!”

Further information

To find out more about chop houses or the books mentioned, visit the Guildhall Library or the London Metropolitan Archives.

Discover Paternoster Chop House head chef Bruce Wilson’s recipes or visit The Artful Diner to see Bruce's recipe for Ayrshire rose veal chops with bone marrow butter [see main picture].