"Clang clang clang went the trolley..."
When Judy Garland warbled about trolleys in Meet Me in St. Louis, she meant the newfangled turn of the century street cars that'd just arrived in her city. If she was pinging around the London of 2024, Judy surely wouldn't be singing the praises of the tram to Beckenham Junction, but the city's surfeit of trolleys trundling around decadent refreshments.
Trolleys are anything but a new fad. Simpson's in the Strand has carved up hunks of roast beef on table-side trolleys since 1848. Initially, it was so chess players weren't disturbed (although surely shovelling slabs of Angus and Yorkshire puddings into your gob while trying to play the Sicilian Defence would do that anyway?), but the practice has long outlived the chess players. Dessert trolleys date back to around the same time, partly motivated, writes Apollo Magazine, "by the shift from service à la Française (all food on the table at the same time) to service à la Russe (food appearing by course)." Even today, for some people a trip to the Ritz isn't complete without Crêpes Suzette lit up like a bonfire within eyebrow-singeing distance of where they're sitting.
Trolleys suit drinks well too. The martini trolley at Duke's bar in Mayfair is a drinker's rite of passage; the chilled glass, Sacred vermouth, viscous freezer-bitten gin and organic lemon peel are all crucial ingredients — as the white-jacketed Alessandro Palazzo puts together a dry martini — yet so too is the wooden drinks trolley, dating back almost a century and a quarter.
The drinks trolley is no longer exclusive to the martini. Need to see off your Duke's-induced hangover? Make a beeline for the Berners Tavern's bloody mary trolley. You can also order champagne on wheels at Atelier Robuchon, a negroni from LAVO's trolley, and an Irish coffee from the roving bar at Whiskey and Seaweed. After all that drinking, a digestif may be required — and yes, there's a trolley for that too, at the Ritz no less (though I'd wager that one's been around for a while). Teetotallers needn't miss out; Pan Pacific currently has a hot chocolate trolley doing the rounds.
As the trolley game picks up pace, it's tricky to keep abreast of them all: afternoon tea trolleys, cheese trolleys, chaat trolleys... At times it can seem there are almost as many trolleys in London as there are buses. And yet, for their semi-ubiquitousness, there is always the waft of upper classness about this comestible-delivery medium. Take 45 Jermyn St's caviar trolley, where they wheel out tins of Golden Oscietra and measure it out with a tiny spoon onto electronic scales, before spiking your scrambled eggs with it. The question has to be asked: are the delights of trolleys for the few, not the many? Do we need to overturn the trolley status quo, with a 21st century à la Française revolution?
It's easy to see why people love a good trolley. The pleasure of taking something that's already wonderful, putting it on wheels and magically doubling the joy it emits. Restaurant reviewer Grace Dent remarked that Maison François's multi-drawered pudding trolley is "a trick that could spark joy in the saddest heart." The Connaught Bar in Mayfair — almost as well known for its martinis as Duke's — writes of its trolley: "The ritual begins and the anticipation heightens as the sleek, black lacquer Martini Trolley is brought to your table – and from this point on, things become personal."
Trolley service not only feels luxurious but theatrical — a moment where the rest of the room pauses to turn its attention to you and your table. There's something of travel about the trolley too. Yes, your martini/eclair is technically making a journey towards you, but in a wider sense trolleys are associated with trains and planes. The first of a few bloody marys en route to Singapore, or a much needed mushroom Cup A Soup en route to a drizzly Manchester.
Far from putting the brakes on London's obsession with trolleys we should expand it — but in a more egalitarian way. Every restaurant (even Wetherspoons) should have a drinks or dessert trolley, wobbling with puddings and trifles, or pitchers of lager. Even if the product itself isn't Savoy Grill standard, the trolley factor automatically makes it twice as delicious. Supper clubs should be hosted on old Intercity stock, with squeaky trolleys banging their way down the aisle, serving lukewarm tea in polystyrene cups and British Rail sandwiches. Tickets for that sort of thing would sell out months in advance. And surely, surely, there's a concept in a bar where you order supermarket booze to be plucked from the shelves, mixed into a cocktail, and brought to you in a pimped-up supermarket trolley, before it makes the final leg of its journey to you on a checkout conveyor belt. Call it "Aisle Have the Martini". OK, I haven't fully thought that one out. But feel free to take the idea, run with it, and give me the royalties when the money comes flooding in.
London is already off its trolley about trolleys, but this trend could be oh so much more. So what do you say, London? Let's do this. Let's get properly trollied.
Five trolleys to try in London
- Duke's Bar martini trolley: Perhaps the most iconic of all London's trolleys, and even if you're not sure about that right now, we challenge you to have a couple of Vespers and still disagree.
- Berners Tavern: This chandelier-hung, grand brasserie could hardly be any more trolley-centric. Among things they wheel about include bloody marys, baked alaskas, sherry — and even pork pies.
- Wiltons carving trolley: With Simpson's in the Strand on hiatus, get your tableside meat from the carving trolley at Wiltons on Jermyn Street.
- Le Comptoir Robuchon dessert trolley: Madeleines, beignets, marshmallows, almond cake... this is a wet dream on wheels for those with a sweet tooth.
- Ice cream trolley at Dinner by Heston Blumenthal: A wonkaesque dessert bar on wheels — freshly mix ice cream crafted before your eyes, produced in clouds of dry ice.
*Simpson's is temporarily closed, but will reopen in 2025
