My relationship with this place is a longstanding one; it traces back to the Sunday mornings of my childhood when I’d complain about being dragged to church. The promise of The Caff functioned as a proverbial carrot or, more accurately, a bacon sandwich. An hour or so later, I’d bound up to the blue facade with ‘Broadway Cafe & Sandwich Bar’ detailed in an art deco font that did nothing to stop us renaming it. For as long as I can remember, amongst my family and friends it has simply been ‘Tony’s’ - or even just ‘the caff’. I’d swing the bright blue door open, having already assessed the stock of KitKats through the glass pane, ready to be greeted by the place’s namesake.
Today, I walk in and I am spotted by that same burly man. Bald and grinning, arms crossed as he stands behind the counter, he welcomes me the same way he always has : “Hi Mia, what can I get you?” My visit has a slightly different purpose this time, but I still treat myself to a hot chocolate. We are experiencing a kind of collective cultural renaissance of these community institutions: it started with Norman’s, the now infamous Archway café hailed as ‘a pocket-rocket of a shrine to bacon and eggs now boasting almost 100,000 followers on Instagram’, or reviled as ‘a caricature of working class aesthetics’, the dissonant reception seemed to demonstrate the deeply complicated relationships we have with caffs and what they signify in terms of class, community, and culture.
T: All these new places - it’s all about presentation, we’re more traditional, a greasy spoon if you like. Our clientele is basically, during the week it’s roofers, gardeners, builders, all that, and those sort of people don’t go to places like Norman’s or anything like that. And at the weekend, clientele is different, it’s locals, like yourself.
M: When did you open? How did you end up running a caff?
T: The family’s always been into catering. My father’s always been in restaurants and stuff all over London, so it was just a safety net for me to come back into after doing other things. I’ve been here 36 years this year. You weren’t even born then, were you?
M: No, not trying to make you feel old, but that was long before me!
T: Yeah, I had a good head of hair when I started. The greasy spoon as it is has definitely changed over the years. The clientele - with the influx of foreigners as such - who weren’t brought up with eggs and bacon, you know, traditional caff fare. So, it’s definitely been a change, but we’re still here, we’re still trading, still making money.
M: I’ve been reading a lot around the idea of caffs, and people talk a lot about the interiors of them. I heard someone say they could be used as an ‘alternative history of London’ - I don’t know if that’s a bit excessive, but in my memories of this place not a lot has changed, apart from the pattern on the tables.
T: Well, yeah, that’s due to the pandemic - it was just something to do! My sister is responsible for these.
M: I was wondering if you think there’s something in the idea of a caff as a kind of stabilising, soothing space that doesn’t change much?
T: People just get used to things, don’t they? And a lot of people don’t like change as such. Having said that, this place could do with a lick of paint here and there, but that might take something away from it, you know? It is what it is.
M: Yeah, I think that’s part of the charm and means it doesn’t have that kind of pretentiousness. I’m thinking about my Mum coming in with her friends and their kids misbehaving and throwing chips around. Even if you shouldn’t do that - it’s a place where you’re not going to panic about the walls.
T: Well you know, you’ve been coming here for how many years?
M: I was trying to figure it out, I’m not sure. We moved here when I was about ten, but I think we were coming before, because we’d go after church as a bribe to get us to go out.
T: Yeah, that’s right. You’d meet up with friends as well.
M: I’m intrigued by your posters. What was the thought process behind them?
T: They were donated, actually. I think my sisters gave them to me. I had another one, a Helmut Newton print up there as well, but a waitress that was working here at the time fell in love with it and when she was leaving I told her she could take it.
M: That’s so nice. These are sillier questions - what’s your favourite thing on the menu?
T: I’ve never thought about that. I don’t really get a chance to eat! I grab a sandwich and that’s it. I guess what sells the most is the set one breakfast (sausage, egg, bacon, beans, tomatoes, fried slice, two toast, and tea or coffee - for £11). But, I don’t mind making any of it.
M: Have you seen any orders where you’re like that just looks ridiculous?
T: Yeah. Once this guy ordered a pork chop with two scoops of ice cream on top. And then he complained that the ice cream melted. I swear to God.
M: That’s so funny. I was going to say my sister just getting one sausage in a pool of beans, but that’s a whole different level. You’ve kind of touched on this a bit already, but do you think that because the place hasn’t changed much, it’s easier to spot shifts in the area in terms of your clientele? Things like how much money they spend or what kind of food they’re looking for?
T: I’ve noticed in the last few months that there has been a shift in people coming in, because I think maybe with the economic crunch that we’re in, the soaring costs of everything, it’s value for money to come to a place like this. You go to the supermarkets now and by the time you buy all the ingredients and everything, you’re just better of coming here, letting someone else cook for you and do the clearing up as well!
M: Yeah, that makes a lot of sense. It could even be an energy bills thing, too, with the costs of running a dishwasher or an oven. How would you describe your relationship with your regulars?
T: Very good. It’s friendly banter, you know, exchanging pleasantries. How you doing? How’s the family? And we talk about football or something or whatever is going on at the time.
M: How quickly do you get to know people?
T: For me personally, they just have to come two or three times, then I know them. I’ll even know what they’re going to order before they’ve asked.
M: How many people would you say are like that? That come in as regulars?
T: There’s lots. I’d say a good twenty percent of the clientele.
M: We’ve spoken a bit about Norman’s. In the context of that, maybe in contrast to it, what purpose do you think a caff serves? How would you define a caff or a greasy spoon?
T: In the old days - I’m talking about maybe twenty years ago - it was predominantly for the work force. They would come in and have their breakfast and they’d come in at lunchtime and have their lunch. But, eating habits of people have changed, i.e. people are more health conscious these days.
M: That makes me think of that newspaper article you used to have up by the menu about how a full English breakfast could actually be good for you.
T: Yeah, because in the paper it’s always you can’t eat bacon, you can’t eat this, that is bad for you, and I thought there was finally something that actually says it’s okay! Everything in moderation.
M: I agree. Why do you think this is the time that people are becoming invested again in the importance of spaces like these? I think a lot of people in the writing that I’ve seen have said it’s a kind of collective nostalgia thing. Would you say it’s more socio-economic?
T: Yeah, but you go through stages, don’t you? What’s trendy one day, in a few months time it could be something different, something else will come along. Like the tea shop round the corner (a recently opened bubble tea place) - I don’t get that, I really don’t.
M: I’m kind of sceptical as to whether you can consider these newer, trendier places caffs, because I think they’re so dependent on a kind of social currency and a coolness, and people being in the know, so in that way there’s a kind of elitism to it.
T: So you’re questioning the longevity of these places?
M: The longevity, but also I feel like there’s something exclusionary about them.
T: Oh, one hundred percent.
M: Whenever someone or something is cool, it’s reliant on someone else not being, kind of defined in opposition like that.
T: Well, you go to all these places and they’ve got one thing in common, they’re all going to have middle and upper class people sitting in there. That’s their market.
M: Exactly, and to me a key part of a caff is that it’s such a welcoming and open space.
T: In here I’ve had a situation where I’ve had Maureen Lipman here, I’ve had Barbara Roche, who used to be the MP round here, and there were workmen. All sitting in the same environment.
M: That’s something I love about it. Even just from my family, we came as kids and everyone’s kind of found their own way back to the caff. I know my brother comes in when he’s hungover, I come with my boyfriend, my sister when she’s finished a term at school.
"We’ve been here for 36 years. We’re doing something right."
T: It’s a comfort thing, that’s what it is.
M: Yeah, exactly. When I’m here I always notice that there will be pensioners, twenty somethings with their friends, families.
T: Well you say pensioners, I’ve buried a lot of people. Older people that used to come here that have passed away. It’s sad, but that’s life I guess.
M: But it’s so nice that you and your place would have been a significant enough part of their life for you to be included.
T: One of them, remember Celia from down the road? She passed away and they had the wake here. Because this is where she was happy.
M: And I think that speaks so much again to the kind of community service element of places like these. I really feel that you’re doing something for the people that live here. I’ve heard people describe, in the vein of the different groups of people you have here, places like Norman’s as a ‘caricature of working class aesthetics’. What do you think of that?
T: I agree with that one hundred percent.
M: Really? Why?
T: Because that’s exactly what it is, isn’t it? You know exactly what kind of people you’re going to find in these places. You can go to one or another and you’d find exactly the same sort of people. There’s definitely not the same element of mixing. It’s not only that. You’re not going to get your pensioner who’s on social whatever going to places like that.
M: Do you think these kind of trends have affected your business? Either positively or negatively, in that certain groups of people have rediscovered caffs, or are maybe heading elsewhere?
T: I guess people go and try them out, out of curiosity, but there’s always the next generation of customers that we get to come along. You have your hardcore, maybe twenty or thirty percent regulars, workforces in the area - whether it be builders or tree surgeons or roofers - they always go and look for a caff. That’s where we come in.
M: So there’s a kind of stability to your clientele that you can rely on?
T: Yeah, definitely.
M: To me that says that you’re better equipped to weather certain changes than other places.
T: Well, we’ve been here for 36 years. We’re doing something right.
M: What have you learnt from running a caff? Was it what you expected it to be?
T: Well, as I tell my son, study hard, because you don’t want to be doing this.
M: Does he like working here?
T: Yeah, but only because he knows it’s not permanent. It’s a tough business, it really is tough. There’s lots of ups and downs, especially in the last year or so with the soaring costs of everything. It hasn’t been easy, but we’re still here.
M: What kind of person do you think you have to be to run a caff?
T: You have to be open-minded. You get one hundred and fifty customers come in a day - you can’t like them all, but you can’t show that. So you have to be diplomatic. As long as you’re willing to work hard, and you give decent food, you can’t go wrong. It’s not rocket science by any means.
M: Have you changed your menu much over time?
T: Not really, no. I don’t think you’re going to go to many caffs and still find kippers or liver and stuff like that.
M: I remember my uncles coming in, who live over in Essex, and we all went for breakfast. One of them was so excited that he could order kippers for breakfast. Have you done anything in particular to encourage the diversity of the people that come here, or do they just find you?
T: I think I’m on google maps, but I don’t really use the internet to advertise the business. A lot of places would say the specials of the day or whatever, but I haven’t done that.
M: So it’s word of mouth?
T: Yes, most definitely. And that’s the best advertising you can get.
M: And I guess the form of advertising that works best across generations, too.
T: Yeah, I get people who used to come here when they were kids, and they come here twenty years afterwards, and they’ll say I can’t believe you guys are still here.
M: Going on from that, what do you see in the future for The Broadway Café?
T: For the immediate future, just more of the same really. Whether I’ll be here for another five or ten years, who knows?
M: I hope so.
T: I need a rest. I’m doing seven days a week at the moment. Actually, the hardest part now is trying to find staff. In the old days, pre Brexit, you’d put a sign in the window and people would be queuing up for jobs. Now, no one wants to work here. I get a lot of uni leavers and school kids coming in looking for jobs, but they’re not permanent, they just want to work for a couple of months, get a bit of money and travel off, but trying to get permanent staff has been a nightmare.
M: How many people do you have working here at the moment?
T: It varies, today I’ve got my sister, I’ve had my son and his friend yesterday, during the week I have two other people as well.
M: I feel like you’re very much the singular consistent figure behind the place.
T: Well, no one can do what I do. I wish I could find someone. I’ve had people coming to apply for work on the grill and they have references from The Dorchester and places like that, but you put them on that grill - forget it! It’s not rocket science, but when you’ve got ten or twelve orders to get out, people can’t handle it.
M: So, you want a break.
T: That’s the plan. Whether it happens or not, I don’t know. We’ll see. For the time being…
M: Just keep going.
T: Just keep going, that’s all you can do.
With thanks to Tony for his time and generosity. I promise I'll pay you back for that hot chocolate!
