Cheeky London Seafood Trip

I had a week-long business trip to London recently.  I love London and love to travel, but doing so for work is a bit conflicting.  Beholden to meetings, conferences, presentations, and networking, there's little opportunity for the actual joys of travel.  No time for museums, tours, landmarks, shopping, etc.  However, my favorite part of traveling is always the local dining scene.  And luckily, the one common denominator between business and personal travel is that you've still got to eat.  So, with a bit of strategic planning, I double booked a corporate and culinary trip.  Seamless access to London's public transit, after all, is called an Oyster Card.  How could I resist?

Various "Puddings"

Now, British food doesn't have the best reputation.  Bland, boiled meats and overcooked vegetables immediately come to mind.  Various mashes and mushes.  Almost everything is either fried or pied.  And what exactly is pudding in the UK, by the way?  Figgy pudding.  Yorkshire pudding.  Black pudding.  Hasty Pudding.  It's seemingly anything but what we, in the States, know as pudding.  That's custard.  I like the definition Ben Ebbrell shared on the A Hot Dog is a Sandwich podcast.  In short, pudding is vibes.  Anything that's warm, comforting, familiar, maybe even endearing or celebratory.  That's pudding. #NoCosbyJokes

Contrary to the hackneyed clichés, London is one of the best food cities in the world.  Having visited quite a few times, I think there are a couple of reasons behind this.  One, British food isn't actually that bad.  Beef wellington, the full English breakfast, a classic Sunday roast, and shepherd's pie are globally recognized and celebrated.  Chefs like Marco Pierre White, Heston Blumenthal, and Fergus Henderson have been showcasing British dishes and ingredients for over three decades, receiving some of the highest culinary accolades possible.  British food can be quite good, when done right.

Second, and seemingly in contradiction to the first point, the British-food-is-bad stereotype does have some merit.  I've found British people are comfortable acknowledging that.  There are many bland pasties, watery porridges, and low-quality pies to be had.  However, with that, there isn't a robust superiority complex around British food that you see in other European countries.  British people are much more welcoming of foreign cuisines.  Pair that with London being one of the most diverse cities in the world and you've got a recipe for a true culinary capital.  Thai, Italian, Lebanese, Jamaican, Senegalese, Brazilian, Japanese.  All have incredible gastronomic representations in the city.  Hell, many even say that chicken tikka masala is the national dish of the United Kingdom.

Lastly, as you likely know, the United Kingdom is an island nation.  However, it paradoxically does not have as rich a seafood culture as other similarly situated coastal countries.  Sure, we all know fish & chips.  Maybe you're familiar with fish pie or even kippers.  But beyond that, there isn't much globally recognized.  I truly don't mean to offend, and there is a lot of great seafood in the UK.  Things are definitely changing, too, it just doesn't compare to the likes of Portugal, Japan, or Peru, though.  I'm going to save the whole deep dive on this for another, broader trip, doing the country proper justice.  Trust me, nothing would please me more than drafting 4,000 words on the English Reformation's or Industrial Revolution's impact on UK seafood consumption while digging into stargazy pie and Whistable oysters.  But, I'll spare you...for now.  This post is already long enough.  If you're interested, though, here are a few quick resources. 

So, with all this in mind, limited time due to work commitments, and a sea-to-table focus, I set out on my cheeky London seafood trip.  Oh, and traveling for work isn't all bad.  I always had that company AmEx on hand 😜. 

The Fryer's Delight

First up had to be fish & chips.  Easily recognized as the quintessential British dish, fish & chips actually originated elsewhere.  The practice of frying fish came from the Jewish diaspora fleeing the Inquisition in 16th century Spain and Portugal, and chips (fried potatoes) were an import from 17th century Belgium.  The two came together and took off in the 19th century, leading to over 10,000 fish & chip shops in the UK today.  That's seven chippies for every one McDonald's operating in the Isles, and roughly 500 of those are in Greater London alone.

This was daunting, to say the least.  How could I possibly choose just one?  The answer actually ended up being simple: beef fat.  In the 19th and early 20th century, the most common frying medium in the UK was beef tallow (known as beef drippings).  It was a cheap, readily available byproduct from cattle farms.  Refined oils were imported and expensive.  However, during WWII, animal fats started to be rationed for military use.  At the same time, early globalization made processed oils like palm and soy cheaper and more widely available to supplement the rationing.  Then, with emerging health concerns around cholesterol and animal fats in the 1960s and 1970s, processed vegetable oils quickly became the fish & chip frying standard, as it is today.  The irony is that beef tallow is making a comeback globally since seed oils are now the villains en vogue.  Fearmongering seems to be the only consistent trend across ever-changing dietary guidance.  Again, stay hydrated, eat more fiber, and all things in moderation.  You'll be fine. 

Either way, this made my London chippy choice quite easy.  I wanted the OG beef fat fish & chips, and only a handful of London establishments still fry in tallow.  There were a few cutty spots that caught my research eye, but they were all too far from Central London with my limited time.  That left me with one choice: The Fryer's Delight in Holborn.   

The Fryer's Delight opened in the 1960s, and it seems nothing has changed since.  Laminate booth seating, checkered-tile flooring, wood-paneled walls.  The curt, almost short-tempered service matched the decor.  It's like stepping into a Guy Ritchie film where some bad boy yardies or street geezers could pop-in at any moment.  And while largely a tourist destination nowadays, the ownership recognizes this charm and promotes it.  Nothing quite like an animated London gangster using Cockney slang to pitch your product.  I ordered the haddock and chips with a side of curry sauce.  I wish we'd normalize the side of "curry sauce" in the States a bit more.  It's delightful with all things fried.  Either way, the fish & chips were piping hot, crispy, and had a subtle yet notable beefy flavor.  As with many British classics, they did require ample amounts of salt and vinegar, or a dip in the curry sauce, to really enhance the flavor.  I think that's just standard operating protocol in the UK - seasoning is at your discretion.  All in all, solid fish & chips and a fun experience I'd recommend.   

M. Manze: Noted Eel & Pie House 

While much less known than fish & chips, there's another British classic that could arguably be the UK's national dish, or at least London's - pie & mash.  In the 19th century, London saw rapid industrialization.  Urban populations boomed and factory workers needed quick, filling, and affordable meals, a similar situation to the rise of Italian subs on America's East coast.  In London, that was beef pies and eels with mashed potatoes.  Cheap beef trimmings were widely available, same as beef tallow.  Eels were also cheap and widely available, being one of the few remaining species that could survive in an increasingly polluted River Thames.  I love that parallel of resilience: a tough, adaptable fish feeding tough, adaptable people.  Anyways, pie those proteins up, add some rib-sticking mashed potatoes, and you've got a hefty, economical meal.

Just like British chippies, pie houses are an institution unto themselves.  Full of tightly packed wooden booths and marble tabletops, many of the remaining pie shops are multigenerational spaces harkening back to a working-class Edwardian London.  Their popularity has declined as of late, so much that there are contemporary movements to try and save the pie & mash shops.  They're truly a snapshot of time, culture, and identity, so I had to try at least one.  Unfortunately, I did see the remnants of recently closed ones in my research.  There are still a few OGs hanging around, though. 

For my pie & mash experience, how could I not go to the oldest continually operating one in town?  Just south of the Thames and Tower Bridge, the M.Manze location has been a pie shop since 1892 and under the same business name since 1902.  It has all the aforementioned charm, and seems to be successfully threading the needle of tourist destination while locally approved.  There was a lengthy line out the door when I arrived on a late Sunday afternoon, along with a raucous birthday party inside.   

 Honestly, the whole scene was a bit intimidating.  Fast paced queues, shorthand slang, staff hastily slapping mash onto plates and practically throwing them to guests.  There's even a chalkboard at the shop's entrance guiding first-timers on etiquette.  "Use a spoon and fork (no knives)."  "Turn over the pie before eating."  But for a clear novice like myself, the staff couldn't have been kinder.  One pie, one mash, stewed eels, and lots of parsley sauce, a.k.a. liquor.  A byproduct of stewing or jellying eels is a flavorful, naturally thickened stock.  Historically, this was repurposed with some parsley and seasoning into a sauce to go with the pie & mash.  Waste not, want not, right?  Nowadays, most liquors are made with vegetable stock.  M.Manze keeps their liquor recipe under lock and key.  Not even the service staff know all the ingredients.  However, there was a notable fish stock undertone to it. 

As for the pie, mash, & stewed eels, true to British style, they all required ample amounts of salt and chili vinegar.  The chalkboard guide even said to use "lots of vinegar."  The liquor added a bit of flavor, but overall it was rather bland and single note.  The texture on the eels was spot on, at least.  And while I can't say the meal was great, the whole experience certainly was.  Few things are as fiercely tied to identity as food, and I certainly felt that "East End born, East End bred" energy at M.Manze.  A kind but scrutinizing local even handed me a bottle of chili vinegar as I sat down at my table, ensuring I followed proper protocol.  Check one out if you're in London, especially since they're a dying breed. 

J Sheekey 

In stark contrast to the chippy and pie shop atmospheres, London's got quite a few fine-dining seafood restaurants with rich histories.  Located throughout Central London's posh West End, Scott's, Wiltons, and Bentley's are all white table cloth establishments that have been catering to the ritzy retail and theater crowds of the neighborhood for at least a century, if not longer.  Wiltons' origins go all the way back to oyster vending in the 1740s.  I'd been to Scott's and Bentley's before, and they do evoke those "Rule Britannia," old chap, Alfred's-pulling-the-car-around vibes.  With mostly dishes like sole meunière, lobster thermidor, and mixed seafood platters, I hadn't targeted these restaurants on my cheeky seafood trip.  However, there's a British classic that piqued my interest, and one of these places reportedly has the best in the city.

Located in Covent Garden only steps away from London's Theatreland, J Sheekey started out as an oyster vendor back in 1896.  Once a brick and mortar in the early 20th century, it quickly became a popular seafood destination frequented by famous actors and socialites.  Full of rich mahogony and gilded-frame artwork, the restaurant screams blue blood old money.  With that, I of course had to get a few oysters.  They were solid.  It's always nice to taste native European oysters.  However, it was the humblest of dishes that brought me there: fish pie.  

I won't lie - conceptually, I've never really been drawn to fish pie.  I appreciate the medieval history and origins as a peasant dish.  However, a mix of seafood scraps in a cream sauce with mashed potatoes never sounded appetizing to me.  It's basically just shepherd's pie with fish instead of meat.  But I was all in on the British classics, so I had to try it.  It didn't hurt that Notorious Foodie posted his version of fish pie the exact week I was in London, too.  As for J Sheekey's version, I was genuinely stunned.  Lusciously smooth mashed potatoes topped with a crispy parmesan and breadcrumb crust, all of which gave way for a deep, savory fish chowder.  It had just the right amount of citrus and alliums to balance the creamy sauce, fatty salmon, and smoked haddock.  I'm surprised it's not called a fish pudding, because this dish is the embodiment of warmth, comfort, tradition, and celebration all in one.  Next time you're in London, definitely pop on your Hackett tweed with some Edward Green Oxfords and grab a fish pie at J Sheekey.   
     

Ragam - Fitzrovia

I know nothing about Indian cuisine.  Actually, that's not true.  I know just enough to be embarrassed by my classic white boy order of shrimp tikka masala and garlic naan whenever my family and I go to an Indian restaurant.  There are two other things I know.  First, Indian food is incredibly diverse and varies immensely by region.  It makes sense.  We're just a population of 300 million in the States and can't agree on what BBQ is.  How does that play out when it's over 1.4 billion?  And much like Mexican and Chinese, Indian cuisine tends to all get lumped together in the States.  That pan-Indian, especially in the suburbs, is most often Punjabi-heavy with butter chickens and saag paneers.  You'll see some Gujarati dhoklas or Udupi dosas here and there, but Indian food in the US is mostly in the Northern style. 

The second thing I know, and this will likely offend in more ways than one, is that Indian food in the UK is better than the US.  Sorry, it's just what I've observed over several trips to London and dining out in the States.  Given the long and complicated history between Britain and India, this too makes a lot of sense.  No other culture has adopted Indian cuisine as its own quite as much as the British.  Perhaps appropriated is more accurate, as some even say London has better Indian food than Delhi.  I certainly can't speak to that.  However, with all this in mind, I knew I was going to get some quality Keralan seafood on my trip to London.  Udaya Kerala Restaurant in East Ham and Radha Krishna Bhavan in Tooting topped the charts in my research.  However, with my time constraints challenge, an hour long tube ride each way simply wasn't in the cards. 
 

Luckily, Radha Krishna Bhavan's got a sister establishment, Ragam Fitzrovia, that was only minutes away by foot from my hotel in Marylebone.  Right around the corner from the University of Westminster, it sits in a neighborhood with trendy boba cafes and art galleries.  However, Ragam has been a South Indian stalwart in the community for over 30 years, and the interior reflects that.  Modest and functional but with a slightly coastal feel in the form of tropical colors and rattan walls.  The menu covers the gamut, catering to the non-Indian patrons, but does have a Keralan focus.  Their paratha even says "our version of naan" on the menu. 

True to my white boy form, I had to order the grilled king prawns and paratha.  Both were delightful, especially the paratha.  It's similar to naan as it's a flatbread, but is actually a dough laminated with ghee and griddled.  This gives it a flaky, crispy exterior with a soft, chewy interior.  My focus, though, was the Malabar fish curry, a dish endemic to Kerala.  Thinner than Northern Indian curries, it's made with a base of coconut milk, smoked tamarind, ginger, garlic, green chilies, and plenty of Subcontinent spices.  It's a fragrant, tangy, spicy, and slightly sweet flavor all in one.  Ragam uses kingfish, a member of the mackerel family, as the primary protein.  Only a firm and oily fish could stand up to such complex flavors, and Ragam nailed that.  The rich, steaky kingfish had the perfect bite, especially when scooped up with the paratha and ample curry.  My only regret was that I didn't try more fish curries around town.

All in all, my cheeky London seafood trip was incredible.  Lots of rich history, culture, and tradition while tasting some classic dishes and dispelling stereotypes about London cuisine.  And, I need to be transparent here - I managed to pack in quite a bit more while in Central London.  Pan-seared red gurnard at Roe, street scallops at the Marylebone Farmers Market, steak & oyster pie at The Guinea Grill.  I mean, how could your boy pass up an anchovy eclair from Lilibet's.  Plenty more I could have highlighted.  Don't worry, though, a proper UK seafood dive is on the horizon.

Cheers,

The SF Oyster Nerd