London’s ‘most legendary’ restaurant just reopened and it’s got a roast beef trolley

I’m sipping a glass of Provence rosé as Dame Joan Collins walks by me. 

Hair perfectly coiffured, with a leopard print fur coat draped around her shoulders, she’s every bit as fabulous as you’d expect her to be. 

No one else in the restaurant batted an eyelid at her arrival, though. Perhaps because celebrity dinner guests are par for the course at a Jeremy King restaurant. 

But this isn’t just any old restaurant – Simpson’s in the Strand is one of London’s oldest and most legendary, and it’s just reopened after six years. 

What’s the deal with Simpson’s in the Strand?

First launched as a smoking room in 1828, Simpson’s went on to become a dining institution serving up hearty British food. Most notably, this included a roast, with joints of meat wheeled around the room on silver trolleys and carved at the table.

For the last century, it was owned by The Savoy, but restaurateur Jeremy King has recently taken the reins. The 71-year-old is the man behind some of your favourite spots, including The Ivy, The Wolsely, Arlington, and The Park, but this is his biggest project to date. 

And it’s been a long time coming – he first put in a bid for the place in 2000, then again in 2008 and once more in 2015, before finally securing the site in 2022. 

As London’s last ‘grande dame’ restaurant, it’s not hard to see why Jeremy was so determined to get the keys.

The place is home to two dining rooms (the Grand Divan and Romano’s), two bars (Nellie’s Tavern and Simpson’s Bar), plus a private ballroom. 

All of the spaces have been revived, but the Edwardian charm and opulence remain. There are original chandeliers, classic wood panelling, and the pièce de résistance: the roast trolleys have returned. 

What’s the food like?

Having tried the hot trolley, I can confirm the meat is wonderful. I’d go as far as to say it’s the best roast beef I’ve ever had.

The Devonshire Ruby Red beef is cooked low-and-slow for nine hours before being wheeled to your table. 

A master carver explains the whole process as he cuts off two very generous slices of perfectly cooked, tender meat and adds them to a plate alongside a giant Yorkshire Pudding (a tad too crispy for my liking). 

Gravy (proper stuff, no Bisto here) is poured on top, and a silver dish loaded with crispy roast potatoes, chunky parsnips, carrots and greens is set down alongside it.

It’s a very traditional meal in terms of style and flavour – as is everything else on the menu. Think Hovis-style loaves of bread, prawn cocktails, bubble & squeak, and spotted dick. 

A real highlight is the clementine jelly, served with Cointreau cream. This is the grown-up version of jelly and ice cream, and as someone who’s only ever made Hartley’s sugar-free at home, it blew me away.

It’s smooth and bright, with a tangy citrus taste that pairs wonderfully with the rich, slightly boozy cream. I’m not sure how I’ll go back to strawberry jelly sachets from Sainsbury’s after this.

I’d argue, though, that the real feast here is for the eyes, not the stomach. 

Jeremy King’s restaurants are a people watcher’s paradise, and this one is no different. There’s a real sense that you’re sitting in the room where it happens.

Perhaps the lady at table three, adorned in pearls, is descended from royalty. The gentleman opposite might be a literary genius, pitching his next masterpiece to publishers over a pie, while an Oscar-nominated director could be wining and dining the cast of their latest film in the back booth.

And let’s not forget, Joan Collins may sashay in at any moment and order a cocktail. 

But it’s not just the patrons, the staff are fascinating to look at too. 

There’s an array of different uniforms dancing about, with master carvers in tall toques blanches, waiters in waistcoats, and barmen in white dinner jackets, all of them weaving past one another, narrowly avoiding being run down by a trolley.

The floor manager is sharp, sporting a perfectly pressed three-piece suit, as is Jeremy himself, as he pops in to do the rounds.

Just make sure you take it all in with your eyes, not your phone – photos aren’t permitted in any public areas of the restaurant, without prior written permission.

The verdict

If you’re after bold, innovative dishes, this isn’t going to be the place for you. But if you want to feel like you’ve waltzed straight into another era, and enjoy a little dinnertime theatre while doing it, you’ll love Simpson’s.

And while it’ll likely become a favourite of London’s elite, I was pleasantly surprised by some of the prices. It’s not the cheapest by any means, but considering the history and the vibe, it didn’t cost an arm and a leg either.

The hot trolley will set you back £39.50 with all the roast trimmings, but you’re also partly paying for the experience.

Other mains start from £19.75, with the most expensive being Dover Sole at £49.75. Starters begin at £9.75 for scallops, and sides range from £5.75 to £7.75.

There’s also a service charge to take into account, set at 15% and added automatically to all bills.

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