To the French, bobo is slang for a person or thing both bourgeois and bohemian (and not just to the French—it’s also in the title of a book by David Brooks, Bobos in Paradise), but to New Yorkers it stands for a little restaurant tucked away in the West Village. Last fall, an aging brownstone got gussied up to resemble a swanky French resto, with food to match. When I went, the Euro-influenced and thoroughly modern menu featured a cheese plate that was memorable and fish that was perfectly cooked. But what really won me over was the convivial service: The bartender understood my bourbon-loving ways and made me a delicious sparkling-wine-and-bourbon drink. The Chowhounds write Bobo off as an overpriced hipster hangout with bad service and not-so-great food, but we’ll just have to agree to disagree. I’m hoping to head back again once the weather warms up, as Bobo has an outdoor patio that’s fitting for a lazy summer afternoon.
Bobo
181 W. 10th Street, New York, New York
212-488-2626
Totally agree Aida. Everytime we’ve been to bobo it has been great – except of course in the early early days. We went recently and sat on that beautiful patio – it is crazy wonderful on a nice warm evening. I also think that people who slate bobo for the “scene” that it attracts are simply envious that they can’t quite cut it and get in it!
Totally disagree Aida. I had a severe case of food poisoning at bobo….. I wouldn’t recommend this overpriced hipster hangout with wannabe “fashionistas”, with horrible service, horrible wine list, and beyond mediocre food to anyone.