Dinner at Bar Boulud, London

Yesterday I arrived home in a blaze of glory from university. I had been slaving away like a true Asian for my exams locked away in my room – I hadn’t emerged for so long that my flat-mates actually thought I went home for a while… Bit embarrassing. I was reunited with Daddy Bridges and Grandma Bridges and as this was a perfect reason for a cheat meal (any excuse), we hopped down to Bar Boulud at the Mandarin Oriental Hyde Park for a little ‘welcome back’ dinner.
I knew Papa Bridges would approve of the place as they had a wide selection of draft beers, whilst Grandma is kept happy wherever there’s a good margarita. And who doesn’t love a good cocktail list?

We ordered a couple of starters to share since I already greedily scanned the menu for desserts and we (well, I) had chosen four options to potentially order later.
The steak tartare and the scallops were both incredible, as well as being somehow perfect to split between the three of us. However, the main event was the burgers.
Apart from having such cute names, like ‘The Yankee’ named after the typical American burger, whereas ‘The Frenchie’ had a French twist with a beef patty as well as confit pork belly, which was extremely tempting. Dad went for ‘The Piggie’ (so cute), which he said was amazing. It had bbq pulled pork in it along with the standard beef patty which was unusual but proved to be a Beyoncé-Jay-Z power couple together. However, it was no competition to my beauty…
The “BB” burger. Firstly, I had to order this bad boy as it quite literally had my name (well, my initials) on it. Secondly, it was a beef patty with foie grais AND red wine braised short ribs AND truffle amongst other ingredients. It was as if the chef had found out a few of my favourite things and stuffed them between a juicy bun. Au revoir, ‘no-carbs-after-five’ rule. Come to mama.
It was a messy one but I can’t relate to people who eat burgers with a fork and knife. You need to get down and dirty. There’s no judging here. 
Grandma was a good girl and ordered the moules a la crème, which is always a good safe option at French restaurants.
We comforted ourselves by ordering a couple of sides of greens to slip in contributing to our five-a-day. That makes this meal healthy, right? Ha. No. Even the spinach was slightly creamy. There’s no saving myself here.
It’s been a life-long lesson to learn how to learn how to subtly convince people to order what you want so you get to try everything. Or maybe they know exactly what I’m doing and can’t be bothered to argue with me. Or they just appreciate my good choices? 
ANYWAY, after narrowing down our four options, then asking the waiter for the most popular dessert, then re-evaluating our life decisions, we (again, I) finally settled for the recommended ‘Coupe Peppermint’ which was a thin layer of chocolate that uncovered flourless sponge and mint-chocolate ice cream when hot chocolate sauce was poured over it, as well as the Raspberry Soufflé with jam and pistachio ice cream. Grandma got her own cheeky scoop of vanilla-chocolate ice cream.
I arranged to go on a run with Dad around the river tomorrow. As much as I’d like to pretend it’s a bonding experience, it’s really because bikini season starts next week and, lets be honest, nobody wants to be that girl in the baggy t-shirt. Tomorrow I will sulk my way back to my juicer.

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