Walking through the revolving doors of Simpson’s in the Strand from the busy Central London streets outside is like entering another world. One minute I’m battling tour groups and poncho-clad families looking for the theatre showing The Lion King, the next I’m ushered into the restaurant’s grand, wood-panelled dining room, with plush leather chairs and chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. Smartly dressed waiters polish silverware at tables ahead of evening service, which has been doling out traditional British fare since 1828.
The likes of Charles Dickens and Sherlock Holmes (the latter in a fictional sense, of course) have dined at Simpson’s, and the story goes that the back corner table with full view of the restaurant was Winston Churchill’s go-to spot. But I’m not here for a roll call of the restaurant’s past clientele. Instead, I’ve come to meet a man who plays a pivotal role in preserving the most important dish on its menu.
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“Simpson’s is all about carving and roast beef. This used to be a chess club for members who’d come here to talk about politics, smoke cigars, and play chess. We introduced the carving trolleys so the chess game wouldn’t be disturbed. We’d put the beef on the trolley and roll them down next to the table and carve. We’ve still got the original trolleys (although they’ve been refurbished a bit) and we still carve tableside.”
This is Simpson’s’ master carver, Manzil Diniz. Despite affectionately saying “we,” he obviously wasn’t around in the 1800s. But Diniz is part of the restaurant’s more recent history, and probably the best roast beef carver in London.
“I actually used to work next door as a chef at the Savoy Grill. But I wasn’t there for very long, you know it was long hours spent in a kitchen. So, my friend got me a job here as a commis waiter,” explains Diniz. “That was nearly 14 years ago.”
Having tried on chef’s whites and a waiter’s waistcoat for size, Diniz finally found his calling as a carver. He smooths down his black apron and bright red bow tie, explaining: “My manager knew I used to work as a chef so when one of the cavers retired, he asked if I wanted to start carving. I started to really like the job. You meet new people everyday and when you carve the meat next to the table, customers enjoy it and take pictures. It makes me happy to serve them.”
Things have changed at Simpson’s since Diniz first arrived.
“When I started, there used to be eight carvers here. We used to have different function rooms, we had to carve for 200 people. It was crazy,” he says. “We get people who used to come in when they were younger and now they’re all grown up. But we get a lot of tourists now. They’ll come here just for the beef and to take pictures.”
Some things though, stay the same.
“In London, I would say that this is the only restaurant where you can get the main course before the wine because we always have beef ready,” Diniz says proudly. “And I have my regulars and I know how they like their beef. They’ll have medium rare and the other one doesn’t like horseradish. There’s one regular guest here who comes a lot and always brings lots of big people. He once brought Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt.”
Wait, what?
He adds: “But I was off that day. The former England manager Roy Hodgson also used to come here a lot. During Christmas, all the footballers and ex-footballers come here and have a big party. Ronan Keating and the England cricketer Jos Buttler have been here for carving lessons. Every day is different. There’s never any extra pressure, though. I’m used to it. Fourteen years is a long time!”
During that time, Diniz has had a star turn of his own.
“You know, I’ve even done a video for M&S about how to carve a turkey. It was my first time on camera!” he exclaims. “They were doing other things all day and my turkey was the last one. I was sitting around all day and then I had to make it perfect. They told me that they only had one turkey.”
Of course, he was a pro: “Yes, it was all fine. There was some pressure but it was a lot of fun.”
Diniz reaches for his tools of the trade—a long, sharp knife and a two-pronged vintage carving fork—and hold them out for inspection. “The previous senior carvers gave me their old forks when they retired and I still use them now. The handles of the older ones are made from animal horn, they’re unique. The prongs are also very fine. You can hold the meat comfortably without letting the juices out. Nowadays, carving forks are a bit fatter.”
Diniz has agreed to show me the beef-slicing technique which has graced the table of many a celeb. He lifts the silver domed cloche which covers a matching silver tray on the trolley next to him. A grand rib of roast beef surrounded by rosemary, garlic, and Yorkshire puddings is revealed.
His advice for any novice carver? Get a good knife.
“When we get new carvers, I teach them how to carve. A sharp knife helps a lot,” he states. “And never put too much pressure on the knife. We always say, ‘Let the knife do the work.’ If you apply too much pressure and have to saw, you can see the lines on the meat. You just need to be very gentle.”
Diniz keeps the rib of beef in place with the fork and effortlessly glides the knife through the meat, carving a wafer-thin slice.
“At Simpson’s, you also have to carve the meat very thinly. The Americans come and ask for an American cut which is one thick slice. The British way is nice, thin slices,” says Diniz. “Beef has always been a tradition at Simpson’s. Even during the Second World War when there was rationing, they used to get their beef from Argentina. Guests would be served two slices but would give the carver a crown to get an extra slice because they knew it was rationed.”
“After all these years, there’s still a tradition of tipping the carver. When the older guests come with their kids, they’ll give the money to them to give to the carver.”
Diniz plates up the roast beef with Yorkshire puddings and roast potatoes. While he pours over gravy, I ask whether he thinks carving is an artform that’s being lost. After all, the roast dinner is steadily falling out of fashion and last year, market researchers Kantar Worldpanel predicted the Sunday lunch ritual could disappear completely by 2041.
“I think it’s in British culture to have a Sunday roast,” he says. “And when we have our carving classes, it’s all young people mostly. It’s good that they know how to carve.”
Perhaps the likes of Salt Bae—the internet sensation meat slicer and seasoning king—will spawn the next generation of passionate carvers?
This master carver is diplomatic in his response: “I have seen the videos of Salt Bae. He’s very famous now. People love to watch him. Here, people are very traditional. People know what they like and they want their meat to be carved the same way.”
And, when Diniz is carving, always with a winning smile.
