2 days ago
The man behind Bob Bob Ricard plots the return of the long lunch
Leonid Shutov has garnered a reputation — a well-deserved reputation — as London's champagne king. His restaurant Bob Bob Ricard has a 'press for champagne' button on every table.
But Shutov, as I am finding out after my first martini and halfway into a shot of Staritsky & Levitsky Private Cellar chilled to a perfect -18C, is also something of a vodka connoisseur.
'It completely transforms your perception of taste. It completely cleans the palate,' he says. 'When you try this' — he points to the 125g tin of oscietra caviar, freshly warmed blinis and crème fraîche sitting between us — 'it's like an explosion of flavour.' He tells me that the way to eat it is to go lightly on the crème fraîche and heavy on the caviar.
Welcome, then, to one man's mission to bring back the long lunch from its post-pandemic slumber. He's seen a recent uptick in Gen Z diners, which says is people indulging in a 'vice' that's good for them.
'It's [the long lunch] coming back, I think. People are searching for something fun again. And that's what they get here,' Shutov says, waving at a deliberately ostentatious decor that was so costly when the restaurant opened in 2008 that it has barely needed a touch-up since. In a bruising Sunday Times review, AA Gill described it as looking 'like Liberace's bathroom dropped into a Texan diner'.
As Shutov and I meet for lunch, the front pages of the day's newspapers range from anxiety inducing to unwitting adverts for doomsday prepping. In 2025 there is something oddly comforting about a restaurant that revels in its silliness. Its name, Bob Bob Ricard, comes from Shutov (nicknamed Bob) putting two thirds of the money in while the other third came from Richard Haworth, who was then his business partner.
After the first drinks are seen off, another vodka martini arrives to accompany our starters. Three fat vareniki, a Russian dumpling packed with truffle and potato, arrive in a mushroom velouté, and three pelmeni, another Russian dumpling but stuffed with lobster and shrimp, are doused in a lobster bisque.
'We do good comfort food,' Shutov says. 'Food that makes you think of home, sure, but with quality.'
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On a Thursday afternoon, the restaurant is about three-quarters full and, around our increasingly absurd table, there is a combination of business lunches, tourists and one date which appears to be going miserably. There is a buzz about the place, one that Shutov wants to build on.
'It was tough coming out of the pandemic and things have definitely changed at lunchtime. But we're now seeing long lunches, people treating themselves, a bit more. We are trying to offer people a great experience, something memorable.'
Regulars — who range from out-of-towners who visit every time they're in London to an older pair of ladies who 'always' order Krug — have the 'Diner Deluxe' to contend with, a new menu which brings back all-day classics.
Shutov's first menu at Bob Bob included a bowl of frosted cornflakes at £2.50, which was perhaps not in keeping with the post-financial crisis era but was definitely in keeping with the loucheness of the restaurant. The new menu ranges from eggs benedict (served with an 'obligatory' glass of champagne, even if it's non-alcoholic) to a 'linguine imperiale served with oscietra caviar in a Bollinger champagne and fish velouté'.
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The idea, Shutov says, is to give people a reason to come throughout the day. An afternoon tea is on its way, featuring traditional classics, not the patisserie-driven offerings west of here in Mayfair and Knightsbridge. He's expanded beyond the original site too: Bob Bob City in the Square Mile and the more casual Bébé Bob in Golden Square.
Our mains then arrive. The restaurant's most popular dish is the beef wellington, sliced in two, which is more than enough for me. But Shutov has also ordered a side of fish pie and a chicken kyiv. Champagne arrives to help wash this down. Prosecco never made it to Bob Bob's list, even when it was booming, and the restaurant remains the largest single standing spot in the UK for champagne sales.
'This is a place for celebration, a little excess,' he says, completely unnecessarily as a chocolate éclair and flaming crème brûlée emerge with two glasses of dessert wine — a Château d'Yquem Sauternes and a South African Constantia. 'But there's value for money too,' he adds. The wine list is a London rarity: mark-ups are capped at £75.
I take my leave to head back to the office several hours later, delighted that I can postpone a raft of emails until tomorrow. Writing this a few days later I struggle to recall details of the food, although it was luxurious and substantial, but I can remember plenty about the company. The entire experience certainly beat working for a few hours. And if that isn't the mark of a good London lunch, I don't know what Bob Ricard, 1 Upper James Street, London, W1.
