Soho 1851: The Greatest Christmas Meal Ever Cooked

This feature first appeared in December 2023 on Londonist: Time Machine, our much-praised history newsletter. To be the first to read new history features like this, sign up for free here.

It was, as the Observer noted, “The most extraordinary Christmas dinner that was ever partaken of in this metropolis.” 25 December 1851 saw four tonnes of cooked meat donated from a Soho courtyard, along with enough potatoes to balance your family car. This is the story of the greatest act of Christmas charity ever undertaken in London, and the celebrity chef who drove it.

This is Ham Yard, or ‘Ham Yard Village’ as it’s now styled. Today, a trail of illuminated breadcrumbs lures the passer-by into one of Soho’s swankier courtyards. You might linger a while for afternoon tea at the luxurious Ham Yard Hotel, or snuggle up with some winter punch in the heated outdoor seating area. It’s all very civilised. Had you ventured into the courtyard 173 years ago, however, you would have stumbled upon a Christmas miracle…

Soup of the day

It was December 1851. London was still feeling the after-buzz from the Great Exhibition, which had closed a few weeks before. The hugely successful display of Imperial ingenuity had attracted millions of visitors to the Crystal Palace in Hyde Park. Prince Albert and his chums had mustered a thousand wonders of the age, all housed inside a colossal glass building, the likes of which the world had never seen.

But beyond the twinkling glass, tens of thousands of Londoners lived in abject poverty, their numbers swollen by the recent Irish potato famine. Many lacked even shanty homes, let alone crystal glazing. The meagre meal enjoyed by the Cratchits in Dickens’s recently published novella A Christmas Carol would have seemed lavish compared to the sub-subsistence fare that some families could expect at Christmas.

Ham Yard, just off Great Windmill Street in Soho, had become a beacon of hope for such people. Since 1847, it had been home to London’s best-known and best-organised refuge — the St Bernard Hospice and Leicester Square Soup Kitchen, managed by the National Philanthropic Association. It provided free food, free shelter, wash basins and toilet facilities for the destitute.

Up to 1,000 people a day used its services [footnote 1]. The refuge was so respected that Prince Albert paid a visit in 1848. (He twice tasted the soup and judged it “excellent”.) But Ham Yard’s Christmas banquet of 1851 would take things to another level. This was munificence as an extreme sport; a logistical masterclass for the ages.

“Filled with luxurious cheer”

Reports from the time paint a lively scene. The crowds arrived at 1.30pm. Thousands of souls poured into Ham Yard from Windmill Street. They were welcomed by a marquee of "colossal dimensions", decorated with Christmas illuminations, banners and flags “of all nations”. To step inside the marquee was to enter a winter wonderland. Holly, ivy, mistletoe and flowers hung all around, with fresh oranges providing colour and aroma. It was a scene unlike any the impoverished visitors had witnessed before.

The banquet was meticulously organised and ticketed. 300 people could dine at each half-hourly interval. A band struck up popular waltzes and polkas to merry things along, although press reports suggest the diners tucked in with "strictest decorum, and in grateful silence". Such were the crowds that 70 police officers were in attendance to ensure the peace. No trouble was reported.

The food was donated by a long list of private individuals, from the super-munificent Mr Richard Cooper who supplied 200 pounds of beef, to the 'just doing his bit' Mr JL Bragg, who contributed a baked plum pudding. The full bill of fare was published in the newspapers. It is astonishing:

• 9,000 pounds (four tonnes!) roast and baked meat

• 178 beef pies

• 50 hare pies

• 50 rabbit pies

• 50 pork and mutton pies
  (One of the pies, dubbed “The Monster” weighed a colossal 60 pounds (27kg).)

• 20 roast geese

• 3,300 pounds (1.5 tonnes) of potatoes

• 5,000 pints of porter

• 5,000 pounds (2.3 tonnes) of plum pudding

• 50 cakes of undisclosed style

• 6,000 half quartern loaves

• 1 cask of biscuits

• 18 bushels (655 litres) of Spanish nuts

• 18 bushels of chestnuts

• 6 boxes of oranges

• 3,000 packets of tea

• 3,000 packets of coffee

• 5,000 half pounds of sugar

• 1 whole ox roasted by gas (“supplied by the Western Gas Company, under the gratuitous superintendence of Mr Inspector Davis of that establishment”)

How miraculous must this feast have looked to the thousands of destitute Londoners who stepped into that marquee? No meal on this scale had ever been served in London before, and certainly not to the poor.

Nor was the banquet bounded by Ham Yard. The victuals were spread far and wide by a 'take-away' system, whereby visitors with families could carry food home to share. Each head of the household was given roast beef, plum pudding, bread, coffee, sugar and a pint of porter to take back. In this way, it was estimated that 22,500 hungry Londoners (perhaps 1% of the city's population) were “filled with luxurious cheer”. An operation of this magnitude needed careful planning. Happily, it had the best in the business…

The first celebrity chef

Superintending the feast was one of the most celebrated figures of the day. The French chef Alexis Soyer was a force of nature. In his short but prolific career, Soyer worked in royal and lordly kitchens, wrote highly influential cookery books and became head chef at the Reform Club, whose kitchens became famous under his watch. He was, arguably, the first celebrity chef.

But it is his work with the poor and undernourished that really sets him apart. Soyer travelled to Ireland in the 1840s to bring relief to those suffering from the potato famine. His pioneering field kitchens could feed 1,000 people every hour. His efforts saved or prolonged many lives, and helped to develop high-throughput service that would come in handy back in London. Without this experience, and Soyer’s flair for culinary logistics, it’s doubtful whether the Ham Yard meal could ever have happened. Soyer, with typical generosity, offered his expertise free of charge.

The great chef would go on to work alongside Florence Nightingale, making life a bit more bearable for British troops in the Crimean War. The Soyer stove — a portable heat source he adapted for army use — remained in service for decades to come (in modified form, it helped our troops through two world wars). Sadly, Soyer returned from Crimea in ill health and died a year later in 1858, aged just 48.

From sandwiches to skiffle

But what of Ham Yard [footnote 2]? It persisted as a place of poor relief for many decades. In 1895, the young Frederick MacKenzie (who would go on to a notable journalistic career) paid an undercover visit to the yard, which also then served as a mustering point for ‘sandwich board men’. He heard that “A dish of pea soup (so thick that the spoon stands up in it) and an unlimited supply of bread can be had for a penny… it fills a man up and makes him that uncomfortable that it’s awful”. Standards had clearly slipped since Prince Albert’s taste test.

It was said of the 1851 feast that it was “hitherto unexampled, and it is to be feared, not likely to be imitated.” This proved correct. Though Ham Yard would continue to support a soup kitchen well into the 20th century, its seasonal handouts were never again on the same scale as 1851. Still, they remained a very welcome fixture for many families. “Santa Claus has come at last! I knew he would!,” one four-year-old beneficiary is quoted as saying in 1903.

The refuge struggled to attract donations during and after the First World War, and closed in 1920 after more than 70 years of service. The yard would later house a string of night clubs, including an important skiffle and blues venue.

173 years on from the great banquet, people once again flock to Ham Yard seeking food and accommodation, albeit in the very different environment of a boutique hotel. This particular pocket of London might have changed beyond all recognition, but the need for food handouts has never gone away. In nearby Fitzrovia, the soup kitchen recently saw its busiest month in a 40 year history. The Trussell Trust recently reported its biggest ever demand for emergency food parcels. It’s increasingly tough out there.

In this season of giving, let’s remember the example of Alexis Soyer, and the altruists of Christmas past who ushered in London’s most benevolent banquet.