‘I’d happily bathe in the peanut sauce, sploshing it about my armpits and behind my ears, before dressing without showering’
Bibi is a new high-end opening in the capital, of which there is currently no shortage. “High-end” is a coy way that hospitality people communicate the notion of imported chandeliers, four-ply loo roll, complex cocktails, teensy portions on beautiful tableware and, outside, a Mercedes-AMG wagon being clamped by Westminster council. These restaurants have survived the Covid maelstrom.
In Knightsbridge, a petty little pandemic wasn’t going to stop the Nusr-et juggernaut rolling into town, foisting its grotesque, gold leaf-wrapped steaks at the cerebrally awry, while over at the Savoy, Gordon Ramsay is on the verge of opening a second restaurant serving caviar on nori waffles. The list goes on, but Bibi – a modern Indian restaurant on North Audley Street, where rows of Bugattis, Bentleys and Rolls-Royce Phantoms park to pick up a few bits of grocery from Selfridges food hall – proves that not all high-end restaurants are built equally.