Fish and chips. The great British institution. The cure for all known ills, including bad weather, heartbreak, and a lacklustre Friday night. But where did this glorious dish first make landfall in London? And who, in this fair city, was the first to serve it up in all its golden, greasy brilliance?
For this, we must go back to the 19th century, to a time when London was a smog-choked sprawl of industry, workhouses, and horse-dung-strewn streets. The city was expanding at an alarming rate, and the working classes were in desperate need of cheap, filling food that didn’t require a degree in haute cuisine to prepare. Enter Joseph Malin, a Jewish immigrant from Eastern Europe, who, in the 1860s, set up London’s, and arguably the world’s, first fish and chip shop in the heart of Bow.
A Perfect Pairing from Opposite Ends of Britain
To fully appreciate Malin’s achievement, we need to understand how fish and chips came together in the first place. The idea of frying fish in batter came to Britain with Sephardic Jewish immigrants from Portugal and Spain as early as the 16th century. It was a method of preservation, allowing fried fish to be eaten cold on the Sabbath when cooking was forbidden. The dish became popular in London, sold by street vendors who carried trays of it through the streets, calling out to customers like 19th-century Deliveroo cyclists without the bikes.
Dickens mentions “fried fish warehouses” in Oliver Twist (1838). These were early fried fish vendors—precursors to the fish and chip shop—where people could buy pieces of battered fish, often to take home and eat cold.
Meanwhile, in the north of England, particularly in Lancashire and Yorkshire, chips had begun their own rise to prominence. Potatoes, introduced to Britain in the 16th century, were cheap and filling. By the 19th century, street vendors were selling fried potato slices to the factory workers of the Industrial Revolution. Someone, somewhere, had the bright idea to combine these two elements, and suddenly, a working-class staple was born.
Joseph Malin: The Man Who Brought it All Together
While the exact origins of the first fish and chip shop are fiercely debated (some northern purists insist that the honour belongs to John Lees of Mossley, Lancashire, in the 1860s), Joseph Malin is widely credited as the man who brought it to London.
Malin’s shop in Cleveland Way, Bow was a modest affair, likely just a small front room with a fryer, but it took off in a big way.
Given Bow’s large Jewish immigrant population in the 19th century, it makes sense that Malin—who came from a Jewish background—set up shop there. East London was a hub for working-class communities, making it the perfect place for a cheap, filling meal like fish and chips to take off.
Malin’s shop stayed in business for over a century, passing down through generations of his family, until it finally closed in the 1970s.
His success wasn’t just about the food—it was also about timing. The expansion of Britain’s railways in the 19th century meant that fresh fish could be transported quickly from the coast to the cities. Before this, the only way for Londoners to get fresh fish was to live near the Thames and take their chances with whatever had been dragged out of its murky depths (not ideal, given Victorian London’s sewage situation). The railway boom meant that cod and haddock from the North Sea could reach London in hours, rather than days, allowing fish and chip shops to flourish.
The Rise of the Chippie
By the late 19th and early 20th centuries, fish and chip shops were springing up across London and beyond. They became a cornerstone of working-class culture, offering cheap, hot meals at a time when many homes still lacked proper cooking facilities. The shops were often family-run, and their distinct smell—hot oil, salt, and vinegar—became a signature of British high streets.
During both World Wars, fish and chips were one of the few foods not subject to rationing, considered essential for morale. The government understood that if you took away fish and chips, you risked nationwide mutiny. Winston Churchill himself is rumoured to have called them “good companions,” though one suspects he may have preferred his fish and chips accompanied by a glass of something stronger than vinegar.
The Legacy of Malin’s
Today, London boasts thousands of fish and chip shops, from classic greasy spoon chippies to upscale gastropubs offering battered monkfish with triple-cooked chips and aioli (which Malin would probably have found deeply suspicious). But the simple joy of a freshly fried portion of fish and chips, wrapped in paper and eaten with your fingers, remains unchanged.
Though Malin’s shop is long gone, his contribution to London’s culinary history will never be forgotten. And rightly so—few meals have had such a lasting impact on British life. So next time you tuck into a steaming portion of fish and chips, spare a thought for Joseph Malin, the man who brought this iconic dish to the capital, and probably the world.
And remember: salt and vinegar are non-negotiable.
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