Poppies Fish & Chips

Step inside Poppies Fish & Chips in Camden and you’re instantly whisked out of the present—straight into a London where ration books and jukeboxes ruled, and where every battered cod was a small rebellion against the grey. The walls are heavy with nostalgia: 1940s pin-up posters, war-era memorabilia, and a genuine sense that someone here remembers when this dish was more lifeline than luxury. Staff breeze through the room in retro uniforms, their warmth as much a part of the experience as the crackling fryers behind them. At its heart, Poppies is a shrine to British tradition—and to owner Pat ‘Pop’ Newland’s six-decade devotion to the chippy craft. The menu is a love letter to London’s East End: thick-cut chips, flaky fish delivered straight from sustainable sources, and sides like mushy peas or jellied eels for the truly curious. Portions are generous, sometimes bordering on excessive—a fillet of cod spilling over the edge of its plate, mountains of golden fries meant for sharing across a crowded table. But it’s not all sepia-toned romance. The food swings between solid and sublime: scampi that manages to be crisp without greasiness, but occasionally fish that arrives tepid or chips that lack crunch. The experience can tilt toward the tourist trail—prices reflect Camden’s status as a magnet for out-of-towners—but locals still pop in for takeaway wrapped in faux newsprint cones, reliving old memories or making new ones. Poppies doesn’t just serve food; it stages an edible piece of history each day. On weekends, live jazz and swing bands echo through the dining room, turning dinner into a celebration where families mingle with backpackers and old Londoners nudge up beside wide-eyed visitors. It feels less like eating out than joining a living tradition—a place where community bridges are built right over plates of hot, salty chips.