The restaurant is a buzzy, elegant long room with the bar at the far end, allowing time to walk the tables with a swift nose at what others have ordered if you are so inclined. Glam like Cecconi's (but not so noisy), like Corrigans (but a bit more intimate), and more compact than both. Lovely friendly, informal yet very professional staff. Menu with plenty of choice but still coherent, and nicely seasonal in parts (loved the minted Jersey Royals – must be the warm March weather bringing them along rather early).

Our table for four was rather alarmingly jammed next to a piano & musical bits which materialised as a jazz trio for short bursts through the meal, but despite our proximity the volume was very acceptable – I would have preferred a little distance however.

The food overall was very good, we ordered 4 different starters and 4 different mains so experienced a good cross-section of the menu.

My only gripe was over a salad described as ‘salt duck and pomelo with pickled ginger dressing’ which shouted to my tastebuds “pick me!” – but the dish consisted of only green chicory, separated into a pretty heap of leaves, in which nestled tasty slivers of duck and pomelo, dressed with a clean,asian-style dressing and a little scatter of purple micro-leaves…as chicory was actually the main ingredient and only real ‘salad’ component of the dish, it would have been good to know this in case you hated chicory (fortunately I don't – but chicory does suffer from the Marmite effect: a love or hate thing) and also a whole plate of the stuff was just a bit dull to eat as a consequence once I'd scoffed the tasty bits.

The others had the seared beef & noodle salad which was generous and smelled amazing, the grilled octopus & chorizo that smelled even more tantalising, and a tortellini primavera that looked very appealing but was being served at the far side of the table, too far for me to keep tabs on as we were enjoying our chat and catching up as well as chomping the food. The mains were all beautifully cooked and presented, and the wine was excellent and arrived at the right temperature for drinking immediately – not always the case in many places.

I think the pricing is pretty fair for standard of the place, where it is aimed in the marketplace, and the quality and quantity of the ingredients. So not expensive for where it sits – but I'd like to sit somewhere else next visit, please.

Buzz and glamour? Classy and exciting? No, no, no!!! Not in this part of Soho. Was everyone away, including the entire bar staff? Was I in the wrong place (that is not a question). What is (not) going on here, in Holiday season? Last night, (a Wednesday) all the happening action had been shunted into the sidings.

I was early, the bar downstairs was closed (no explanation, so I don't know why), and thus I was shown straight to the table for a drink while waiting for my three companions. The decor is more fairground than true glitz, with appropriate music (ie to a fairground), which didn't drown out the deadly hush of empty dullness. The cramped, high-sided ‘railcar booth’ tables are cattle-class rather than first-class in my opinion, and anyone who was over-fond of their food simply wouldn't fit in. The space was constricted enough to feel claustophobic rather than cosy, and paper placemats just ain't luxe. I found it unwelcoming and uncomfortable. And a squeeze too far for four (slim) friends.

The service was fine, the food unmemorable, decent ingredients, cooked ok. Only glitch was when my man wanted chips instead of mashed potato. Po-faced waitress checked with the kitchen and said that wasn't possible (despite entire trainloads of empty tables – can't imagine the kitchen resources were exactly stretched – so more of a “computer-says-no” type of refusal). My man tries a different wheeze “I would like to order the veal holstein WITHOUT mashed potato on the plate, and a side of chips?” – problem solved. A tiny jug of delicious-smelling sauce arrived with the mains: “what is that? who's it for?”. Waitress depositing said jug said “oooh, I'm new, I'll have to ask…”. I saved her the trouble by (rightly) deducing it was veal jus with truffle from the look and smell and hence to go with the holstein – the rest of us were having seafood and fish dishes, so not rocket science to work out.

We drank an indifferent Chablis at an ok price and lots of water, the aforementioned flat atmosphere not conducive to alcoholic bonhomie – or chatting and lingering. it was a big relief to leave, to be honest. Very so-so for Soho.

Maybe our timing was bad: other recent reviews would lead me to understand that we missed a proper sniff of the Real Bob Bob Ricard Experience – but I won't be testing that theory out another day.