Review: Bibendum, London

Our meal at Bibendum was quite an example of what a difference menu choices can make. Left to my own devices, I’d have probably given an unambiguously glowing review. But it was very clear that of the four of us I’d definitely made the best selections from the a la carte menu at Claude Bosi’s 2-star restaurant in the famous Michelin building.

The dining room is iconic, with fantastic stained glass windows of the slightly bizarre cigar-puffing fat tyre man of Michelin, a towering ceiling overhead, and elegant chairs tucked beneath crisp tablecloths. The service was the kind of silk-smooth smiling efficiency you’d expect from a 2-star classic French establishment (though not faultless; our main courses arrived pretty much on the back of our starters being cleared, and then afterwards we were left completely untouched for almost 30 minutes; we felt a little like a table of ghosts, watching the world of fine dining bustling around us).

So. Food.

There were some polite little amuse bouches. The liquorice-flavoured black sticky bun filled with salt cod was the stand-out specimen for originality and a flavour that lingered pleasantly with our wine. Tiny cone of foie gras icecream was meh. Though I freely confess to a huge “meh” on any attempt to chill foie gras.

My starter was an absolute stunner, visually and in taste. Duck jelly, tiny cubes of smoked sturgeon, and a generous dollop of caviar. The jelly was clear as a bell and pure umami, giving a beautiful earth edge to the salty caviar. And this was definitely the most classically beautiful plate of food I’ve seen in a long time. By complete contrast, Maureen’s pastry-coated sweetbread with pickled walnut jam was really quite an unrefined beast for such a refined table. Jolly good though. Tim’s golden beetroot terrine was a huge glowing amber brick of lovely beetroot with a smart mixture of blobs to add flavour pairings; the salty white feta especially good. Vanessa’s crab and apple I didn’t try; it was pronounced light yet unamazing.

On the main course I scored again, with a turbot grenobloise. The chunk of fish was cooked to toothy perfection, emerging from a fluffy cloud of brown butter foam. Hidden below the clouds, a bed of really dirty crushed potatoes, made super-filthy with plenty of burnt butter and something with a pronounced caramel flavour. My arteries creaked a song of pure joy. Maureen went for lobster in Singapore black pepper sauce. In hindsight, a mistake: 2 Michelin stars is never going to deliver the depth and power of flavour in a proper Singaporean black pepper sauce. Even so, this was very toned down. The pepper was there, and the sauce was fine, and that really was a splendid lobster tail. But…

Well, I guess that’s the contrast. Refined French cooking of a classic French gave me mouth-gasms, while refined French cooking of a classic Asian dish sucked the joy out of it and left behind another “meh”. Tim’s rabbit and langoustine dish was very excellent, and Vanessa also partook of the lobster and found herself wishing for some other element to vie with the single-minded lobster.

My dessert was a cep vacherin, which turned out to be a prickly golfball of pure white meringue filled with a delicate banana creme patissiere and sprinkled with cep powder. I enjoyed the novelty of the funky fungi flavour. All in all a good end. Others plumped for the chocolate souffle with Indonesian basil ice cream. This souffle was a monster, and the brush of shiny chocolate ganache over the perfectly raised surface was a good stroke. The ice cream cut the richness just enough.

So… Bibendum. For £90 per head without drinks (and there are very few wine bottles under £60) you’re getting absolutely classic French fine dining. For the food alone, it’s not great value – though my own choices came close to brilliance. This is experience dining though, and you’re also paying for the crisp tablecloths, the effortlessly elegant waiters and good ol’ Bibendum with his fat cigar. Depends what you’re after.