Brief review of Bea's Of Bloomsbury - May 2010

Where: Bea's of Bloomsbury, Theobald's Road, Bloomsbury (oddly enough...)
With: The Masticator
How much: He wouldn't tell me. What a gent. Cupcakes are £2.50 each, we had three to share with coffees.

Unassuming little cafe frontage on busy Theobald's Road, opens up into a beautifully chic little cafe. It was worth the 10 minute walk through the park from King's Cross. It doesn't have the nicest of views, though as we sat outside on the first sunny day of the month I couldn't help but be grateful it wasn't on nearby pedestrianised Lamb's Conduit Street. Cupcakes of this quality would ensure a permanently packed front stoop.
A light passionfruit and vanilla cupcake came with a fresh drizzle of fresh fruit across the top and was light and creamy with the two flavours matching well. A raspberry and chocolate cake was a real hit. Luscious, smooth and velvety, the dark, almost liquid centred chocolate sponge accompanied the raspberry buttercream perfectly. Our final cake was a chocolate piece studded with blueberries. Sadly the blueberry either wasn't present, or didn't come through in the flavour of the cake, but it was still a treat.


Definitely worth fighting through the fashionistas on a sunny afternoon for artisan cakes and wonderfully friendly service. They also do mail order, events and party catering too. A lovely local gem that deserves some support.

Brunch review of Automat - May 2010

Where: Automat, Dover Street, Mayfair
With whom: Batman and his brother
How much?: £16 for their brunch burger

Friday night turned into Saturday morning and Batman and I were determined to carry on going... We weren't in the best state to enjoy a gourmet meal but had decided that the obvious thing to do in the situation would be to head to the Wolesley for a restorative brunch.. Batman is a few months away from impending fatherhood and so these days (and nights) are soon to be replaced with the screaming and squalling of a newborn. That's his excuse. I have none...

Sadly our 'Withnail and I' esque plans were scuppered by the classily suited Maitre 'D who disabused us of our hopes of a table (and with it one of the finest bacon sandwiches I've ever had). We left the beautiful former car showroom and walked up Dover Street to a longtime favourite of mine, Automat.

It's been with us since 2005, and while there aren't the queues that there were on launch, it's still popular. Too popular - full of the expat families who somehow manage to live in Mayfair and their raucous offspring. Batman was getting an early, hungover, flavour of what his Saturdays would like like in years to come. In a bizarre tunnel like main room with the acoustics of your local council swimming baths, their screams echoed. The restaurant, with an authentically upper class diner mix of clean white lozenged tiles and wood panelling, looks a little run down these days.

Enough of that. We were here for life giving sustenance. And to me, that was always going to be their 'famous' brunch burger. For £16 I was expecting great things. It was good, better than I could cope with, though they, like many others, still haven't found a decent bun. This one was dry and had more sesame than Ali Baba. There was a thick, too meaty sausage unceremoniously plonked on the upper half of the bun, a squat porky rocket definitely intended for another meal. Bacon was cooked perfectly, and I've got to say that the burger itself was excellent with a decent amount of char and well seasoned, moist meat cooked exactly as requested. If I had a quibble with it, it would only be that it was a little too dense, but that would be a minor quibble. The 'homestyle' potatoes served unannounced on the side were a little oily, but a good partner to the sausage as a second part to the meal. 

Worth £16? I'd say probably so, considering the location (and the locals)... it's two meals in one and if they sort the bun out, it's an excellent burger, served in a nice space. I'd avoid children's hour though.

Review of Bincho Yakitori - May 2010

Where: Bincho Yakitori, Soho
With who: Citizen Smith, the New Boy, Telly Alex and his other half
How much?: £30 a head gave us a their pre-theatre special, a few extras and a massive (and I mean massive) bottle of sake...

Bincho seemed like an obvious choice for a group meal with a random set of likes and dislikes. It wouldn't have been a first choice to be honest, but it ticked enough boxes. In hindsight I wish the food had been one of those.
It opened to some fanfare a several years ago in the Oxo Tower originally, the reviews were fine, though nothing out of the world and the model seemed to be an interesting one. They have a large grill in the front of the restaurant where they grill your yakitori and kushiyaki on bamboo skewers, the former exclusively chicken 'bits' and the latter assorted other meat, fish and vegetables. These are mostly served family style for the group.
The staff are lovely. Absolutely lovely. They couldn't have done more to make sure that we were happy, up to and including organising impromptu sake drinking demonstrations for the group. The menu was very impressive. Simple skewers and an assortment of accompanying rices and salads. Nothing held back for Western appetites, proud of their gizzard and tripe and heart. This was food I was very much looking forward to.

We went for the pre-theatre menu and following a starter of miso soup and a rather ordinary salmon 'salad' (a small portion of cooked fish dropped on a bed of mixed leaf) we were then served a mixed plate of yakitori and kushiyaki. The skewers are usually cooked with salt or tare, a sweet mix of mirin, sake and soy. These were definitely cooked salty. The mushrooms and spring onions were chewy and virtually inedible and the assorted chicken parts were drenched with salt. The one saving grace for me was a perfectly cooked belly pork, thankfully the sweet white fat put off a couple of the other members of the group and I was able to load up on the tiny piggy nuggets. 
Additionally to the set meals, we ordered a handful of other items to share. The chicken hearts were small, salty bombs of fibre. Any give in the normally soft sweetbreads had been blasted out of them by the strength of the grill. An oily prawn skewer came wrapped in the type of plastic over-smoked bacon you'd expect from a late night petrol station sandwich. 

The desert was a dust dry pile of soya milk doughnuts served with a green tea ice cream necessary for the moisture it gave. I managed two of them before running out of ice cream and the will to live.
I had expected better from reports read before the visit, certainly more enjoyable experiences than ours. I like the model, the staff and the location but I'm sticking to Roka for my grilled Japanese treats.

Review of Colicchio & Sons - New York - May 2010

Where: Colicchio and Sons, Meatpacking District, New York
With whom: The Vole
How much?: $110 per person for three courses, wine and aperitifs

We'd thought long and hard about where we were going to go for our Friday night in NYC and after much deliberation and research among foodies based there I strongly suggested begged that we go to Colicchio and Sons. The back story is a restaurant PR's wet dream. Tom Colicchio, of Top Chef fame (think US Masterchef with a proper budget and no Gregg) became jaded with the demands of running his restaurant empire and rather than follow the likes of Ducasse and Ramsay out of the kitchen and into the boardroom he decided to get back in to the kitchen full time. He took out the successful branch of his national chain Craftsteak and installed Colicchio and Sons in its place, vowing to spend a significant amount of time behind the stove.  

The aim appears to be rustic, a folksy farm to table ethic as evidenced by the dark wood design, Danish farmhouse furniture, artfully arranged pots of herbs and the piles of timber aesthetically stacked by the wood-burning stove visible from the bar. Evidently however, the homely vibe doesn't extend to the rather bling floor to ceiling wine tower used as a room divider between the formal main restaurant and the more casual Tap Room at the front, a throwback to Craftsteak in the MGM Grand in Vegas. We got there early and took a seat at the bar. It's a beer lovers dream, with over 40 ales from around the world, over half on draft, including a vintage Harvest Ale from J.W. Lees in Manchester, aged in Lagavulin casks and priced at $33 a bottle. This punchy pricing extended through to the dictionary sized wine list, a probable hangover from the expense account days of Craftsteak.

Seated in the main dining room, we surveyed the menu. It's a long, detailed love letter to flesh with no more than 2 or 3 dishes in either the a la carte or the $125 a head tasting menu meat or fish free. Bread came served in the oven tray it baked in, buttery enough to eat dry. An amuse of lobster, spiced apple and broad bean on a thin crisp biscuit was encouraging, less so the fact that they didn't clock that the Vole's allergy to shellfish might extend to lobster. It provided an appropriate opener to my sea urchin and peekytoe crab 'fondue'. I asked if this was served to be shared (as any other fondue) which thoroughly confused the waiter, "no sir, it's the special... it's a starter", not quite what I meant, but I assumed my error and moved on. It was an exceptional dish. Sea fresh, with complementary textures from the crab and the chilled slippery slivers of urchin. 

Vole took a call to have starter sizes at both courses, wise considering the size of portions we were seeing. She started with a poached farm egg in a fava bean and pea shoot broth, served with a parmesan crisp. An excellent idea, though sadly too oily in execution. This was followed by a faultless ricotta ravioli with tasty meaty morels.

Amazingly, in the home of one of the masters of meat, I couldn't take my eyes off the piscine portion of the menu. My main was a monkfish in pancetta, to be honest, a bit of a letdown. Slightly dry as it arrived, it came sat atop a fava bean and pea broth that, other than the inclusion of a shave of fennel, comprised Voles starter. 

Minor grumbles aside, the place has the looks and the pulling power that makes it perfect whether you're sealing the deal with a business associate or a date. It wasn't everything I was hoping for, but then expectation was running ridiculously high. As we walked out we were presented with a brace of lovely lemon and poppyseed muffins, "from the chef, for the morning". A lovely final touch.

Review of Bar Boulud - May 2010

Where: Bar Boulud, The Mandarin Oriental Hotel, Knightsbridge
With whom: The Masticator
How much?: £110 for the two of us. That was four courses (Prix Fixe plus an extra charcuterie course)


This was the week that we got news of another American import, Keith McNally, bringing a feted and famous New York brasserie to London (Balthazar, in partnership with Richard Caring's Caprice Holdings). Both McNally and Daniel Boulud, at whose new London outpost we were dining, are considered by many to be American chefs, and both made their large reputations there however both were born in Europe, Keith McNally a few miles up the road from his planned new home. 

I came to praise Daniel Boulud, but instead walk away strangely unsatisfied. As a dining experience overall, it wasn't one that will live long in the memory. 
It wasn't the staff. They were as well drilled, knowledgable and friendly a brigade as I've seen... 
It wasn't the decor. The light, well proportioned space is a graceful place for the well heeled to dine... Admittedly I was less sure about the arty splashes on the wall. The blot art of famous red wine vintages intrigued but were only vaguely reminicent of blood stained rorchach drawings. 
Sadly, and more fundamentally, it was the food.

We went for a so-so Corbier, fair enough, but a little too earthy for both of us. It came from a large and excellent winelist priced squarely for the Four Seasons clientele. There are only a handful below £50, the rest quickly hit hedge fund levels.
The relatively long and involved menu presented a thrill as it was knowledgeably announced by our gallic host. There were certainly sparks of excellence here. Themes of charcuterie, sausage, pâtés and burger were highlighted and so we decided to go for the Prix Fixe with an additional charcuterie course (supplied by expert Parisian charcuterie supplier Gilles Verot). The small plate was more than ample and made a very good pre-starter paired with a moreish (light in texture but richly flavoured) boudin blanc sausage and its accompanying garlic mash. A very good salami made up for the dry and too subtle ham. Pâtés (particularly the tagine dagneau, a heavily spiced Maroc influenced lamb and aubergine mix and a superb pâté grand-mère) really excelled and the portions of the small plate were the ideal way to sample.

The chilled pea soup was simple elegance and one dish I'll remember for a long time. Fresh, creamy and with an occasional snap of tiny rosemary flavoured cruton, it hit the spot perfectly.
Sadly it went a little down hill from here. The Masticator's burger was initially dry, tasteless, unseasoned and lukewarm with a shredded lettuce, 'special sauce' and thin, limp tomato combination eeriely remenicent of a certain golden arched chain. Only a tasty brioche bun saved it. The team were swift to offer a replacement due to the temperature but this arrived in the same state (albeit warmer). The chips were inedibly saline.
My roasted chicken breast had a rich rustic and flavoursome taste of pure perfect poultry and arrived, in comparison, piping hot. Slightly dry too though sadly, it was helped by a rich (if salty) gravy but badly let down by rather floury fingerling potatoes and overcooked artichokes.
The Masticator had further problems with his desert (though this time arguably of his own making). A pervading scent of lavender that put him off his two (small) scoops of mint and coconut ices was tracked down to the overpowering handwash in the Mandarin Oriental bathroom. That aside, a powder dry hazelnut cookie didn't add to the experience. My exotic fruit sundae was preceded by a long spoon hightening childish anticipation before it arrived in a Martini glass. A pleasant but not earth-shattering mélange of passion fruit purée and cream came with nuggets of an excellent coconut macroon to give some needed bite.
Will I come again? Absolutely. It's a great space for a business lunch in the area, a safe menu overall with some excellent notes and very good charcuterie. It isn't somewhere I'll be rushing back to though. For the price, I'd rather take a day trip to Paris and pop by Gilles Verot's shop in person. 

Review of The Swan at The Globe - May 2010

Where: The Swan at The Globe, The South Bank
With whom: Nicco Polo and Bet Lynch
How much?: £40 a head (with a cheeky staff discount) so nearer £60, fair enough for three courses from the a la carte, wine and cocktails
On a stretch of river in our capital city filled with world famous buildings and iconic views, there can only be two sureties; loud, jostling hungry tourists, and overpriced, substandard restaurants to feed them.
One of the jewels along the waterside is the Globe Theatre. Only a teenager (started by Sam Wannamaker in 1970, opening after his death in 1997), it fits in perfectly with its older neighbours and has rightly become a real destination along the bank.

For the last year or so they've also been blessed with the Swan. A lovely little bar and brasserie  adjoining the theatre 'directed' by ex Ramsay cohort Mark Sargeant, there's a sense of real purpose about the menu. They shout loud and proud about their reliance on foragers, farmers and local markets (they are just up the road from Borough Market after all) and the menu reflects this seasonality. Sadly that season has just passed. On a gorgeous spring night it's a shame that most of the food on offer has a distinctly wintery note. Don't get me wrong, I love the sound of the Cashel Blue macaroni cheese and spiced Elizabethan mutton casserole is just what you'd expect to eat before outdoor Shakespeare, but not when the weather outside is so warm.
I went for the one seasonal starter.
Trimmed asparagus with hollandaise. Sometimes kitchens have to realise that you don't mess with perfection and that was certainly the case. Cooked for a couple of minutes, lightly drizzled with a zingy sauce, it was heaven. Nicco Polo was slightly less lucky. His scallop and spring onion gratin was average at best, with an excess of herbed breadcrumbs and a strong gratin sauce overwhelming the more delicate scallops.
The confit pork belly was a big homely portion. Again, not necessarily suited to a spring night, but I'm a big fan of the pig and won't let a little thing like seasonality get in my way. The large slab came with a sweet honey and dill glazed crackling, sweetly tender fat and a creamy, mustardy celeriac remoulade that set it off perfectly
Finishing off with the summer pudding, I was struck by just how conducive the restaurant was to having a good time. It was so friendly and comfortable with some excellent food, that and the very central location mean I'll certainly be coming back. For a very reasonable price, we had three strong courses, an aperitif and a Chilean Pinot Noir from a tasty little list that struggled to top £40 a bottle. Looking out at the tourists crossing the Millennium Bridge as the light gradually faded behind St Paul's dome we wondered how many of them would look up and check out the Swan, or given the sad state of occupancy would they all end up flooding into the overpriced 'ye olde pubbe' or one of the chain restaurants that infest the area. More fool them if they do.

A Tale of Two Pizzas - Review of Firezza Pizza and The Gowlett - May 2010

Where: Firezza, Herne Hill (delivery) and The Gowlett, East Dulwich / Peckham(ish)
With whom: The good Doctor Vole, Nico Polo and Con-olog
How much?: Firezza - 15 notes for a pizza, coleslaw and garlic bread... easily enough for two. The Gowlett - £9 for the Chef's Special, others were £8 or £8.50

Firezza
You know those times when only a pizza will do? When you just want to sit in, crack open a bottle of wine and chow down on a good to honest, slice of succulent pie?

Well tonight was definitely that night.

Firezza make a great pizza. Wood fired Neapolitan pizza by the 12" pie or by the half metre. The recipes are broadly authentic, and they don't scrimp on the toppings. The chewy, freshly made crust is slightly charred in places, highlighting its uneven authenticity. The smokey heat from the chorizo and the plump red peppers weren't the most authentic pairing but they did me just fine. A little too damp towards the middle, the liquid in the sauce and from the peppers necessitated some serious folding action. Order online and get a lovely garlic bread thrown in.

The Gowlett 

We'd gone to Locale in East Dulwich, lured by the promise of canapes and free Mojitos... Their outside 'terrace' is little more than pavement, but pleasant enough. Brian, the owner / manager was certainly working the space, welcoming the natives and encouraging all to eat and drink. We grabbed some perfectly cooked arancini and possibly the saltiest tapenade I've ever sampled but it only really filled a corner. The queues were large enough to put us off staying, so we whizzed round to the Gowlett for some of their superb pizza.

Much is said around SE15 / SE22 about the wonders of the Gowlett. It's an unreconstructed boozer. Pool table in the corner, multiple dogs wandering round trying to half inch crisps, local 'characters' happily mingling with art students, t-shirts and haircuts that wouldn't feel out of place in Shoreditch. That kind of thing. I bumped into a random colleague there who proudly informed me that she had just moved to the road to be near the place... it inspires loyalty and reverence.
You also know that it's no ordinary pub pizza when people, hungry, booze filled exuberant people, are all very happy waiting AN HOUR for a few simple toppings on a dough base.

Crispier than I was expecting, the base was almost like a pitta bread around the edges. My Chef's Special came with a topping led by bacon and peppers and despite a (slightly) excessive char on the base was mighty tasty. Con-olog had their signature Gowlettini, a cheese heavy combination that comes with a lot, and I mean a large man's handful, of rocket over the top. A lazy-boy salad combo if you will. 

Overall 

To be honest, I prefer the pizza from Firezza. It's got more 'weight' to it, and the flavour is exceptional. If I'm sitting in of an evening inhaling a box set then nothing else will do. However, if you're looking for a great local pub, with torn up seating, and dogs, and well kept beers and a bloody good pizza to boot.. then you can't go wrong with the Gowlett. If they both continue to prosper I'll be a happy, though lardy, man.

Eating the World Cup - a call to fellow football foodies

Being both a football fan and a foodie, I’m taking a world cup themed trip over June. As I can’t justify the fares to go to South Africa (and don’t fancy getting deafened by the dreaded vuvuzela), I have a cunning plan... If you fancy getting involved, or have any other suggestions, either post below or send me an email at rich.major@gmail.com. 

My mission - The challenge is simple and elegant. I will, over the course of the next four weeks, consume breakfast, lunch or dinner at a national restaurant of each of our opponents (hopefully seven, the number that would take us to the Final!) While there I will gather any insight I can about our oppositions players and predilections and forward immediately to Fabio..

- First Thoughts on the Group Stages - 20th May

Initially the group stages seem to present little challenge, hopefully a state mirrored on the pitch. An obvious starter for our first fixture against the USA on the 12th June would be one of the great steak restaurants, and I’ve never needed much of an excuse to go to Hawksmoor. Sadly, I think that could be a little bit of a cheat, so I’ll be looking around for other options here. 
Read my American article and reviews here

The game against Algeria on Fri 18th June throws up the possibility of Khamsa‎ on Acre Lane in Brixton or Darna in Hampstead. Both offer predominantly Algerian cuisine with (hopefully) some intense, flavourful salads, ubiquitous tagine and plenty of bread to soak them both up. I’ve been to Momo in Heddon Street a few times and it’s always good for a laugh and I remember hearing some very good things about a French / Algerian place in Crystal Palace called Numidie that could be worth checking out.

Slovenia (Weds 23rd June) poses more of a challenge… While there are a few Balkan restaurants in London, it’s proving hard to track down somewhere authentically and specifically Slovenian. There is however the elegantly named Czechoslovak National House in Hampstead which looks so bizarre that I think it may have to be done. I’m currently waiting for the Slovenian Embassy to come back to me with other suggestions (never let it be said I don’t do my research).
Various calculations will tell you our likely opponents should we progress further into the draw, with a scary encounter with either Germany or Ghana possible for the weekend of the 26th. I’m going to wait on the results before booking these but watch this space!

Review of Moshi Moshi in Brighton - May 2010

Where: Moshi Moshi, Bartholomew Square, Brighton
How much?: Around £30 for the pair of us
I'd had several recommendations for Moshi Moshi, a VERY ethical sushi restaurant in Brighton (with siblings in Liverpool St and Canary Wharf).  

It's been going since 1994 and looking at their site has the smug air of a company almost more concerned with it's eco-credentials than the food it serves. That combined with the fact it was owned by a certain Heather Mills and was known as being the perfect place to take your little organic food eating, no sweets allowed, organic cotton only, home schooled, able to have an adult conversation in a restaurant despite only being five rather than running round like normal horrors little Edmunds and Alices and I was really ready to bury it.

So why were we there? Because the sushi, apparently, was to die for...
We gave them a tough enough challenge, arriving mid afternoon after a busy Saturday lunch service with the vestiges of the lunch service still being cleared, and the last Alices and Edmunds were flinging their final maki roll at doting mum and dad. 
It's a conveyor restaurant, with a central preparation area and a hot kitchen though a hatch. The restaurant itself is a copper green cube sitting squat in Bartholemew Square. Despite having just finished lunch there were still a fair and reasonable selection of dishes rolling round. The fish on the nigiri was fresh and sweet, with a nice bite to the rice. A couple of thick shards of mackerel really stood out, still gleaming on the outside, straight from the sea. 

As well as your standard conveyor belt fare they also have a large hot food menu with some exciting seasonal treats on there. As well as the expected udon noodle dishes, several gzoya, the ubiquitous terriyaki and a pork tonkatsu there's also a marinated Korean pork bulgogi served with a spicy Korean sauce and a terrific sounding Cornish catch of the day (more of that lovely mackerel) dry fried in salt and sansho pepper.
For me, there was only one call for an extra dish alongside the nigiri and sashimi and that was a whole softshell crab, sliced in two and cooked in a tempura batter. It was a great choice. A light greaseless batter coated the two halves of crab and the piquant thin chilli sauce offset the rich crab, cooked lightly enough to retain its taste of the sea. 
A perfectly reasonable, though unexceptional chocolate mousse finished us and we waddled out onto to the blustery seafront, leaving the staff the relax for a few hours before another onslaught of middle class Brighton media refugees and their offspring.

The perfect Soho day - May 2010

Where: Fernandez and Wells and Bob Bob Ricard
How much?: £3.90 for a double macchiato and a Pastel de Nata then a shade over £20 for a burger and a mimosa.

This has to rank up there in the list of great places to start the day. The view isn't the best (though on a weekday you get opportunity for a Soho trend spot) but their coffee is well up there, and the charred and slightly chewy puff pastry case of their Pastel de Nata is as good as anything I've had outside Portugal. It's a buzzy little place and, like Soho neighbour Flat White, you'll struggle to get a seat. 
One of the worst things about working in Soho (after the tourists, the dirt, the idiots riding their fixies on the pavement and the chuggers) is that I've stopped appreciating what lies around me. There are some great little shops on the side streets and left to my own devices for a few hours I'll tend to head to Berners Street for Sister Ray records or over the road to check on the sale rail at Jakes Clothing. 
After that, it's down and underneath the old archway from Raymond's Review Bar, past the clip joints and the grot mag peddlars and Diamond Jacks and on to Brewer Street to grab some sushi from one of the little bars down there. I've always got time for a slightly cliched wander through the expensive, but very worthwhile stacks of authentic (but expensive) Italian food at Lina Stores. It's like Spike Island or the first Libertines gig. If half of the celebrity chefs and style mavens who claimed to be in here daily actually were, you wouldn't be able to get through the door.
After that, I'd built up an appetite for lunch. There are a fair few places to chose from but today it was going to be the burger. The burger at Bob Bob Ricard is the reason that exercise exists. Without that, you're lost. Sadly, I appear to be losing... though if I thought that the reward was a guilt free burger at BBR then I'd be spending a lot more time on the rowing machine.

There's a limited menu, mainly classic bistro dishes intermingled with a handful of left field caviar based choices (no doubt a small reminder of home for the Russian owner).

The decor wouldn't be out of place in a top end French railway buffet (assuming that said buffet were decorated with beautiful blue leather seating and staffed by men in salmon pink jackets). The staff were attentive and friendly and while I had to ask twice for the bill, I wasn't exactly in a rush, and could quit happily have sat there all day.

Starting with a sharp yet sweet pink grapefruit mimosa, I eagerly awaited my meat patty fix.

Not that I'm obsessed with the art of burger, but I'd heartily recommend this excellent article on perfect construction. Heston Blumenthal has nothing on this level of obsessive detail. While you're there, check out the equally obsessed Ibzo and his review of another firm favourite burger spot of mine, Lucky Seven. 

The burger arrived cooked perfectly as requested, enough fat to make it silky smooth with little pieces of onion studded through. A nice char on the outside contrasted with the soft bun and the Kraft slice melted deep into the pores of the unctuous patty. The sweet pickles were excellent, and the only (very slight) bum note came from the slightly flabby and seemingly unseasonal tomato.

As I polished off the last morsel, a salmon pink jacket dropped off a warm hand bowl and I sat back in my booth. The glamour of Bob Bob Ricard is a contrast with grimy old Soho, but somehow fits in perfectly.