So, today my gay husband Mev and I decided to have a cultural day out. Lunch ‘somewhere chichi’ (his words not mine) then off to the V&A to see the new Hollywood costumes exhibition.
It didn’t really work out like that. Instead, we found ourselves drawn to the spectacularly un-chichi Bubbledogs, the latest in a new range of ‘gimmick’ restaurants.
We arrived shortly before 2pm to be greeted by a cheerful queue of around 20 people. So far, so predictable.
Just after we arrived, it started to rain, so we were pleased when the queue shuffled inside, and we ended up stood instead in a narrow corridor eyeballing the already seated punters. For about 20 minutes. Eventually we were ushered inside and allocated our tiny portion of, well, shelf really, overlooking the stairs.
Thankfully, we had these quirky hotdog drawings to keep us entertained/distract us from the fact we were staring at a brick wall.
In case you’ve been living under a rock for the last few months, Bubbledogs is a restaurant that sells hotdogs and champagne. So, we ordered hotdogs and champagne. Well sparkling rose, which was wonderfully dry.
We both ordered the ‘New Yorker’ – which came with grilled sauerkraut and onions. Mev ordered a beef hotdog, while I went for the more traditional pork.
We also ordered two of a possible three sides to share – potato ‘tots’ and sweet potato fries. The third option was coleslaw, which struck me as a bit unimaginative. The tots were lovely and salty, and the sweet potato fries were beautifully crisp on the outside, and fluffy in the middle.
Our verdict? Well, it was hotdogs and champagne. I’m not sure what I was expecting really. It was certainly a very good hotdog, almost as good as the hotdogs I’ve had in Germany when I’ve stayed with my German best friend. But…but… was it any better than the hotdogs you can buy on a New York street corner? I’m not sure. But I suppose that’s not the point.
The food all seems reasonably priced – at £6 for a glass of champers and £6.50 for a hotdog, so I was a bit surprised that the bill came to £38 – it definitely didn’t feel like a substantial ‘meal’ and for £38 I’d expect to go away feeling full. I’m glad I’ve been, seen what all the fuss is about, but will I go back? I very much doubt it.
As for the V&A exhibition. Ahem, yes, well. We kind of got sidetracked. And did our own ‘exhibition tour’ of the boutiques of New Bond Street instead… I blame the lunchtime champagne.
Told you I’d be a rubbish cultural blogger.