We’d been sat down less than a minute when Sophies finger hovered over the ‘press for champagne’ button, her index finger bearing her late nans wedding ring pressing metal into wall. Our table number flashes over the bar, indicating to not only the staff but the rest of the restaurant that we are ready for the fizzy stuff. A caricature of a man appears; lithe and smartly dressed he bellows “Madame! You have pressed for champagne!” like it was a surprise to either of us, offering singular glasses or bottles of various sizes. Glasses arrive, priced cheaper than anywhere we’d find in Birmingham despite being in the middle of Soho. We cheers to those absent, drink, and press again. Bob Bob Ricard is that kind of place.

I was going to say you don’t come to Bob Bob Ricard for the food but that’s a lie. You come because the food has something for everyone, the ridiculous backstory to the name, the press for champagne button, the deep blue booths apparently based on the Orient Express, and the wine list that is a wine lovers dream at the top-end due to the tiny margins they apply. We drink Margaux because why not? We also drink more champagne, some Y’Quem and some Constantine for sweet, and a little whisky. I think a martini was also involved.

In fitting with the mood I have caviar to start. A simple tasting of three caviars with blinis and sour cream, us both worryingly confirming that caviar tastes better the more expensive it becomes. Sophie has prawn cocktail. No fucking around; good prawns, crisp lettuce, a rogue sun dried tomato and a Mary Rose sauce that’s loaded with cognac. All condiments from herein will contain cognac.


Having eaten the chicken Kyiv it’s hard to say it’s worth £27 so I won’t bother because it’s not. The chicken is good quality, cooked well, with good breadcrumbs. The garlic butter is not stuffed within the bird, moreover served as a sauce which wears you for days. Sophie has the lobster Mac’n’cheese Thermidor which she tells me contains as much meat as pasta. The side of truffled mash is outrageous. They don’t scrimp on the luxurious elements here.





Dessert is a beaut. Strawberries and cream soufflé, perfectly risen, not remotely eggy, full of flavour and with a cheeky little treat at the bottom. Stunning. There’s boozy truffles and the bill, which we shall never discuss again. It’s a lot. Frankly who cares. There are restaurants that are temples to gastronomy and there are restaurants that put a good time at the forefront. Bob Bob Ricard is the latter. We loved it.
9/10
Listen to The Meat And One Veg Podcast here.