Bob Bob Ricard

Apparently AA Gill didn't like BBR, where I took the Nip for a Valentine's Day dinner on Friday 13th. He was extremely rude about the staff, and very curmudgeonly about pretty much everything else.

I'm going to be a lot more polite about the place than that, but not entirely sure I'll be heading back either with clients or the bevvy of sophisticates that make up my salon. That's the era they're going for at BBR. Rich socialites in ermine stoles, cigarette holders poised elegantly. But in recessionary Soho it looks out of place. The champagne button on the table looks forlorn, as if it might have been well used in 1933 and 1983, but not had much action since. I'd feel a bit weird about pressing a button like that at the moment. I see the spectre of the Prime Minister hovering above me wearing a frown. But that's just me.

Basically, BBR. Looks fab. The staff were trying to be nice "Hello Simon!"... then to a waiter "Ten" (shit - was that points out of a hundred?). I was ushered to my table. I quite like the pink waistcoats of the staff and the good looking types wafting around the place. Not enough to make your heart soar (Ben) but OK. My issue is with a £23 steak that was really ordinary. And £7 ice cream that was three weeny blobs in a perspex bowl. Having said that the salted caramel ice-cream is incredible, and that rescued things a bit.

But £166 for two, three courses, one bottle? Hmmmmm. Not convinced. Classy but it's no Salt Yard (which has yet to be bettered in my book).