Bob Bob Ricard

A Room That Sets Its Own Terms

Soho has always harboured restaurants that operate outside the prevailing mode. Where much of the neighbourhood trends toward casual sharing plates and stripped-back rooms, the dining room at Bob Bob Ricard (1 Upper James St, W1F 9DF) goes the other direction entirely: polished leather booths, swathes of marble, Art Deco detailing, and a proposition built around ceremony rather than informality. The 'Press for Champagne' button mounted on each table is not merely a gimmick but a positioning statement. This room intends to make an occasion of dinner.

That positioning places it in a distinct peer group among London's formal ££££ restaurants. At the Michelin-starred end of that bracket sit venues like L'Enclume in Cartmel and The Fat Duck in Bray, where the kitchen is the spectacle. Bob Bob Ricard's spectacle is the room itself and the social ritual of the meal, with the kitchen providing the comfort rather than the drama. It is a different contract with the diner, and one with a consistent following.

The Anglo-Russian Menu and Where It Sits in British Dining

Traditional British cooking has always absorbed external influence more readily than its reputation suggests. The canon that runs from sole meunière to beef Wellington already carries French scaffolding; what Bob Bob Ricard does is layer a Russian accent on leading, via caviar, vodka shots served at -18°C, and truffle and potato vareniki dumplings sitting alongside the Caesar salad and mac and cheese. The result is less fusion than palimpsest: a menu where multiple culinary traditions occupy the same space without obvious conflict.

This Anglo-French-Russian register distinguishes the restaurant from the more rectitudinous end of the Traditional British category. Compared with the country-house seriousness of Gidleigh Park in Chagford or the produce-led restraint of Moor Hall in Aughton, Bob Bob Ricard reads as deliberately theatrical and comfort-focused. The kitchen's range — from steak tartare to chicken and Champagne pie to salmon en croûte — is calibrated to please rather than challenge, and that is the point.

Regulars at this price point in London also have the option of Dinner by Heston Blumenthal's historically-rooted British menu or the neighbourhood precision of The Devonshire. Bob Bob Ricard occupies a different register from either: neither scholarly nor austere, it reads more like a very confident host who knows exactly what their guests want for dinner.

The Cheese Question: British Artisan in a Russian-Accented Room

The editorial angle here is worth examining directly. The menu's comfort-food architecture, classics done with conviction and some luxury augmentation, places British artisan cheese at an interesting intersection. The Stinking Bishop soufflé on the menu is a case in point: Stinking Bishop, the washed-rind cheese from Gloucestershire, is precisely the kind of regional British product that a certain style of formal dining treats as a novelty. Here it appears as a course in its own right, cooked into a soufflé format that treats the cheese as a serious ingredient rather than a postprandial obligation.

This matters in the broader context of how British cheese has moved through restaurant menus over the past two decades. The cheeseboard as a standalone institution, Stilton with port, a wedge of aged Cheddar, a piece of regional hard cheese, has contracted in many London dining rooms in favour of cheese integrated into the cooking. Bob Bob Ricard's approach, exemplified by the Stinking Bishop soufflé, reflects that integration. The cheese is doing work in the dish rather than appearing in a lineup at the end of the meal. For a restaurant whose menu reads as classically grounded, that is a more contemporary approach than it might first appear.

Comparable British-leaning restaurants in London that treat artisan cheese with similar seriousness include Marksman in Hackney and Llewelyn's in Herne Hill, though both operate in a far more casual register. At the formal end, 45 Jermyn St and Hand and Flowers in Marlow represent the country-focused British dining tradition where cheese remains a course rather than an ingredient. Bob Bob Ricard sits between those poles.

Recognition and Where It Places the Restaurant

Bob Bob Ricard holds a Michelin Plate in both 2024 and 2025, recognition that signals cooking of consistent quality without ascending to starred status. The Plate designation in Michelin's framework covers restaurants where the food is good but does not yet meet the criteria for star consideration, which at this price tier means the kitchen is executing reliably rather than at a level that alters the peer conversation.

The Opinionated About Dining (OAD) ranking provides a useful second data point. Listed as Recommended in the 2023 European Casual ranking and climbing to #574 in 2024 and #532 in 2025, the trajectory is upward, and the category placement (Casual) is editorially interesting for a restaurant with marble tables and Champagne buttons. OAD's classification reflects the accessible, pleasure-focused nature of the dining experience rather than the physical formality of the room.

At this price range in central London, the competition includes Le Manoir aux Quat' Saisons and Pipe and Glass in South Dalton at the traditional end, and technically ambitious rooms like Goodbye Horses at the more experimental edge. Bob Bob Ricard does not compete on those terms.

The Wine List and the Champagne Dynamic

The wine list is worth noting independently of the Champagne theatre. In a central London dining room at ££££, that is a meaningful point of difference. The dessert wine anchor is Château d'Yquem at £32 for 50ml, which is a specific and competitive price for one of Bordeaux's most recognised sweet wines at a Soho restaurant. It sets the tone for how the list is assembled: ambitious labels at margins that do not penalise the diner for ordering seriously.

Know Before You Go