The Most Insta-Famous Button
Bob Bob Ricard is a plush restaurant in Soho serving English and Russian classics. The food here is pretty good, but will always be secondary to that little button staring back at you that says, Press for Champagne. This is what all the fuss is about. This is why you came here.
The name, Bob Bob said twice, sounds a bit ridiculous, a bit obnoxious. But I love to say it, “I’m going to Bob Bob Ricard tonight.” Where? Although we dined downstairs in the basement, the interior is beautiful, glamorous and glitzy. Tables are arranged into booths, wide and spacious. I felt like I could fit another two people to the left and right of me.
It’s definitely a top choice for dinner with friends or colleagues. As well as champagne, they do vodka shots at -18 degrees that certainly gets things started. We came for George’s birthday, so both champagne and shots were called for, even if it was a Monday.
We order baked oysters with parmesan and truffle for Dad, salmon tartare for me, crab salad for George’s brother and a Scotch egg for George to start. The presentation is excellent and the meal, very enjoyable. Please excuse the photos, the lighting was not great and they were taken with my iphone before I owned a proper camera.
For mains, George and Dad share a Beef Wellington, their signature dish, Alex takes a Chicken Kiev and I opt for the Lobster Mac & Cheese. The boys get some truffle fries and mash on the side. The beef comes perfectly cooked and delicious, although enormous in quantity.
I’m slightly disappointed with my Mac & Cheese. Although it has plenty of lobster, it’s dry and needs more flavour, more punch, some garlic maybe, and a crispier top. I want to feel it crunch, I want the creaminess to coat my tongue, I want the pasta goodness and the lobster freshness… I’m left wanting.
For dessert, Dad impressively manages a ramekin of cheese after all that beef. George and Alex tuck into a creme brûlée that comes on fire (and with a man who has to stand and watch it until the fire burns out for health and safety reasons.) I opt for two little glittery balls of chocolate. George gets a strange pink, glittery marshmallow birthday ‘cake’ on the house. We order another round of vodka shots and start to wish it wasn’t a Monday…