Common - Northern Quarter, Manchester

Common's had a makeover, that's not a bad thing, it's just a fact I thought I'd point out. Don't worry all you lovers of their stripped back look, they've gone for an even more minimal, industrial look; think Ikea, without the bright colours or bookcases with pieces missing.

We popped into Common for lunch this week, mainly because my dining companion had wanted to go to Home Sweet Home (he's lived in the Northern Quarter for years and never been in), but it was full of hip young things drinking hyper-sweet milkshakes and eating day-glo coloured buttercream,so we popped next door, because 't'were new like,' grown up looking and quiet.

Quick scan through the menu and we realised they'd moved away from the burger/comfort food/slightly rustic heaviness and added small plates and meals with a fresher, lighter feel: refreshing to see somewhere in the NQ stepping away from messy piles of Tex Mex Americana and forging a food identity all of their own (don't worry, they still do burgers, if you haven't got over that yet).

If you go to Common and you are unsure what to order, I will tell you what you're going to have:

1. Shak shuka; a middle eastern version of huevos rancheros (eggs baked in spiced tomato and peppers). This is a staple dish for me at home, but Common's subtly spiced, cumin warmed, pepper heavy version was delicious, especially as they'd managed to keep the egg yolks runny. Which I can assure you, is a feat of kitchen skill.



2. Korean fried chicken: a sticky, sweet, garlicky, crispy, spicy delight. Utterly more-ish, they should
make a larger version for people who don't like sharing. Like me.

3. Popcorn cockles - all establishments should serve these tiny, crunchy, salty morsels of amazingness - however I doubt they'd manage to keep the cockles as soft and the batter as light as Common's. I want whoever the chef is at Common to come to my house and marry me. I'm on the market for getting wife-d up and anyone who can come up with these dishes is probably the person for me.



We also had the smashed avocado and tomato on toast - lovely and fresh, would be a great light lunch for non-pigs. I'd probably take the almonds out of the tomatoes, as they didn't add anything, but it pleased me to know I was eating one of my portions of nuts and seeds for the day (because things like that worry me at night). In addition the veg chilli on chips was great - plenty of not too wet chilli, melted cheese and salty/crispy fries - it was just over shadowed by the amazing-ness of everything else.

Oh and I ALMOST forgot - Common has expanded into the (viz lovely waitress) 'scary basement and popped in a bit of a bakery.' Now all their cakes are made in house and are very reasonably priced compared to their competitors: NOT NAMING ANY NAMES, BUT SERIOUSLY £5.50 FOR A SLICE OF EFFING CAKE?

Whoops, got giddy before
photographing!

Hand thrown pot
lampshades

Anyways, digression - for £1, Common is selling little chocolate orange truffle things (they're not that small though) - like a chewy date and chocolate heavy thing, with orange. Fit. And according to the waitress they're made with raw things and cocoa, which is all good for you. Unfortunately I couldn't fit anything else in and we had to leave, or I would have eaten them all. I need the recipe.

So a note about the new decor (I know you're all desperate to know) - think concrete, grey, open kitchen, light wood and you'll have it (their images here). There are long refectory style tables and hand potted lamp shades - if you like minimal, scandi, industrial chic you'll love it. I love the new makeover, I love the new menu, I love Common. But the chairs are a bit uncomfortable for old people like me.


Price for one snack, one side dish, three light bites and one cake: £23. Dishes range from a couple of
quid for a snack, around £4.50 for a light bite and up to low double figures for a main meal.

Food - 9/10
Atmosphere - 7/10 (quiet, but it was Wednesday mid-afternoon)
Service - 8/10
Value for money - 9/10

Total 33/40

Common, 39 Edge Street, Manchester M4 1HW, 0161 832 9245, Twitter, Facebook.

Please note, Common had no idea I was there until I started mouthing off afterwards on social media. Bloggers do actually pay for most of the meals they eat out. Mostly.

Red's True Barbecue - Manchester

I'm jumping belatedly onto the meaty bandwagon with this post, just as we could say that Red's True Barbecue has jumped on the current Americana obsessed culinary zeitgeist. I know everyone's already blogged about. I know most people cream over it. Whatever.

Red's True Barbecue has apparently come to Manchester to rescue us from the bad British BBQ (what, who doesn't like burnt sausages in soggy white baps?). Located on Albert Square in what used to be Livebait, they've installed traditional American smokers and grills and decorated the whole place like a bad 90's barn dance.

St Louis Ribs

The menu consists of a range of meats, dry rubbed, smoked and finished with sauce. There's the traditional ribs, chickens and wings padded out with burgers, steaks and some salads (most of which contain meat from the smoker). The sides are pretty traditional Americana fare - mac n cheese, fries, slaws, hush puppies ad nauseam.

Taste wise, Red's food is perfectly ok; if you like salty, smoky, sweet meat doused in slightly cloying sauces. It's the cooking skill that's all wrong - one meat item being dry would be passable as a fluke mistake, however all three (starters and both mains) was unforgivable.

Half a chicken

Luckily the sides were bang on. Mac and cheese was nearly as good as my Mum's, thick cheesy sauce and a good crispy crust; the slaw added a nice tang to the dishes and the heavily salted fries hit the heavily-salted-potato-products spot we all have. But for somewhere that bangs on relentlessly about how bloody good their food is and the religion of the meat etc etc needs to step up to that rhetoric and deliver.

Apart from that we were served by a series of nonchalant and not very tuned in servers, who must have been hired for their looks because that was the only thing going for them. And I'm not even going to start on the enamelled dishes.

All in all the only thing I like about Red's is their clever marketing campaign, which says a lot about the place - all style, no substance.

Cost for one starter and two mains (sides come as part of the mains) - £30.40 plus drinks and service.

Ps No photos, it's way too dark in the venue to take any so I've nicked 'em off Red's website. Please note, our food didn't look anywhere near as good as these staged shots.

Food - 5/10
Atmosphere - 7/10
Service - 6/10
Value for money - 7/10

Total - 25/40

Go again - No thanks, they're not doing anything special.

Reds True Barbecue, 22 Lloyd Street, Albert Square, Manchester M2 5WA - 0161 820 9140.

Grand Pacific - Manchester

A long time ago (in social media time scales) I wrote a rather desiccating review of Australasia, a place I found to be rather more style than substance; a place which left a rather large hole in the pocket of my dining companion.

In a bid to exorcise demons (and as I was stranded on a cold and blustery day in the soulless wastelands of Spinningfields without any desire to move my feet more than they had to) I came upon the decision that it was finally time to try Grand Pacific, the upstairs/less formal/outdoors area/annexe of Australasia.

Grand Pacific may be dressed up as a different restaurant, but it's Australasia; it has the same menu, the same staff, the same decor and if you go downstairs, the same toilets. I was momentarily upset by the realisation that I'd be eating the same menu items I so roundly denigrated last time. It then struck me and double times upset me, that this time around it would be a hole in my own pocket and not some hapless companion.

Fortuitously for me the upset lasted only as long as it took the food to arrive (about thirteen minutes if you're interested). In place of the misjudged flavours and lack lustre baubles I'd experienced on my last visit, this time the food was little less than exsquisite.

BBQ lamb chops were delivered over a somewhat superfluous, but (I have to admit) somewhat aesthetically pleasing warming plate. Soft, sweet and covered in a teriyaki style marinade, they also processed a moreish smoky char that left me wishing I'd been served more than the plump three I'd just inhaled. The tuna tartar proved to be a well balanced dish of almost buttery fish with subtle zings of citrus, mustard, spice and caper. The tuna was so delicately chopped that each small piece resembled a tiny, intact jewel with none of the mushiness you get from rough chopping or poor quality fish.

Pretty food, amazing tastes

Sour plum and salmon futomaki were great, just over shadowed by everything else on the table, especially the pigeon. I warn you now, I'm going to wax lyrical a little... The pigeon was presented as two plump, pink breasts surround with small clusters of mustard fruits and topped with two pastilles. Not only was the dish a beauty to behold, but the combination of sweet, rich meat and fruit, cut with the mustard and the sharp crunch of filo was utterly sublime. It's one of the most delicious dishes that I have eaten in Manchester for a while.

 

Amazing Duck and Mustard

Oh and the chips are bloody moreish. End of.

To top our rather delightful experience we were also treated to some of the exceptional customers service that Living Ventures, the company behind Grand Pacific, are so famous for. We were served by Alex who not only had a thorough understanding coeliac disease, but who then proceeded to run to the kitchen with all our questions, asked the kitchen to change dishes to incorporate non-gluten ingredients and sourced some tamari (gluten free soy sauce) so we could both experience exactly the same tastes and textures throughout the meal.

In all, Grand Pacific completely changed my opinions of Australaisa, I might even go back to the main restaurant now.

Price for four cocktails, four sharing dishes and one side: £74.50

Food: 9/10
Atmosphere - 8/10
Service - 10/10
Value for money - 7/10

Total - 34/40

Go again? Yes.

Grand Pacific, 1 The Avenue, Spinningfields, Manchester M3 3AP - 0161 831 0288

Kitchenette - Manchester

I'm just going to put it out there; I'm a bit over burgers. And hot dogs. And all the dirty food spin offs that have popped up around Manchester like a post MacDonald's binge rash on the sensitive skin of a greasy teenager.

I've always had an uneasy relationship with food spawned from deep fat fryers, covered in sugar and smothered in sauce. Unfortunately I was born a woman, in a time when the media has boomed and incessant images of the 'perfect' figure are beamed into my eyeballs 300 times a day, whether I'm taking notice or not. At my grand old age I should have learnt not to notice, but no matter how much my brain/education tells me to ignore it, I still guilt trip myself about every sinful extra calorie that passes my lips.

But I ramble and this food/female hand wringing guilt issue is often written about. Someone should just pay me to write a post-feminist op-ed column about being a lazy post feminist (hint, hint? - Ed) but I think Vice already have something like that.

So it's back to my high and mighty food opinions, because how dare I be more than a two dimensional food reviewer...

Kitchenette has just opened up at the top of Oxford Road, opposite the Palace Theatre. You will have walked past it a million times without batting an eyelid when it was Fellicini; for this reason Mud Crab (who owned Fellicini) have stuck some plant pots outside and had a rebrand. This is why we noticed it after the Cornerhouse told us there was a 30 minute wait and I needed feeding ASAP.



We almost walked past. After judging the down at heel diner look and the menu full of such un-original dishes as burgers, hot dogs and mac 'n' cheese, we thought we'd have eaten it all already. But in the corner of the menu was a little box, a box which contained the words 'Eat Buns Eat More Buns.' All of a sudden I realised that 'HOLY SHIT THIS PLACE DOES THOSE STEAMED BUNS YOU GET IN CHINA TOWN' (and yes my brain was actually shouting at me and I'm not a knob who just likes to use caps; I'd entered some sort of hunger brain meltdown and was just stood on a street corner drooling/shouting to myself).

So we went in. I'm glad we did.

Kitchenette has been made over in an industrial vibe (grey walls, metal bars, bit shabby), but with enough comfort factored in for harassed grandparents to feel at ease, when being pulled in for pre/post theatre snacks by their burgeoning-on-obese grandbrats. There are leather booths and large tables, a view of the canal (not sure if that's a plus or not, at least there's natural light in the back) and both times I've been in there's been a random mix of students, daters, suits and friends.

Pulled pork sliders, they so cute

First time we ate, we eschewed everything on the menu for the steamed hirata buns. Actually I lie, we had the pulled pork sliders to start (not my choice, it's another food stuff I'm pretending I'm over because I know how many calories it contains) and the pulled pork was pretty good - none of this salty, overly sweet, sauce laden gloop you get these days; properly seasoned, soft with a bit of bite and a salty/savoury warmth.

Back to the buns - these are basically like the steamed bun you get in Chinatown (as I already said), however these are:
 - much bigger
 - not filled
 - flat like a pancake, you fold them over like a taco.

The idea is that you order your buns and then order the filling - so we went for tempura sea bass and the sticky chicken. The sea bass was light, not greasy, divinely crisp on the outside, steamed silkiness on the inside and enough for two. The sticky chicken came in a salty, moreish bbq/teriyaki sauce with sesame seeds for extra crunch - it would have been better a bit warmer, but that was the only downside. You get lettuce for a fresh crunch and (my favourite thing in the world) kimchee to add a fermented cabbage punch in the mouth that you can't get from anything else (anything else not being fermented, spicy cabbage).

Superb fried chicken

Crunchy pork salad

Second time around we had spent the day carb-loading, so buns were out of the question. We started with the fried chicken - natch it comes in a takeaway carton, a serving aesthetic I honestly quite like (and I'm not being post-modern ironic or nuffink with that statement) - whoever's in the kitchen at Kitchenette knows how to fry chicken. Crispy, spicy batter, no taste of oil and the most tender, succulent, steamed chicken on the inside. The Colonel's got stiff competition.

Hanger steak was served medium-rare without us having to ask; silky thin slices cut through by a punchy Asian style salad was made perfect with a side of fries. The pork salad was a gamble (I usually hate the limp lettuce excuse for a mains salad you get everywhere in Manchester) but I wasn't disappointed. Finely shredded veg and crispy, sweet pork were covered in a gossamer of peanut/chilli/lime dressing - zingy, fresh and the perfect contrast to the buns I ordered on the side - well, I couldn't help it and the pork salad went so well in them and what about my kimchi fix...

Kitchenette's neat fusion of Asian and dirty foods (I would call it dirty Asian, but who knows what google searches I'll come up in if I do), spot on service and their better than other dirty restaurants cooking skills, means I think Kitchenette will ride out this dirty food storm and be a Manchester stalwart that you definitely won't walk past again.

Price for one starter, two mains, one side, two beers and two cokes - £31.50

Food - 8/10
Atmosphere - 7/10
Service - 9/10
Value for money - 8/10

Total - 32/40

Go again - yep, already notched up quite a few visits!

Kitchenette, 60 Oxford Street, Manchester M1 5EE - 0161 228 6633 - website - Twitter - Facebook

Artisan - Manchester

I am unashamedly middle class. I'm not going to make excuses for my up-bringing, values and identity. I'm not going to pretend anymore, or make a mockery of where I fall in society - yes I worry about minor infringements of manners and I really like aspirational magazine; there's nothing wrong with being in the middle sometimes.

And that's why I like Artisan, the new-ish Spinnigfields offering from Living Ventures (Australaisa, Oast House, Alchemist). Artisan is not trying to be fine dining, it's not trying to be hipishly down-at-heel, it's not trying to push boundaries and it's not jumping on any bandwagon. It's just a comfortable, relaxed space, with great food and good drinks.

We visited mid-week and were pleasantly surprised that a) it was pretty busy for mid-week and b) that the vast, 12,000 ft space seemed really rather cosy. As with other Living Ventures concerns, there's been a conscious and very obvious effort to ensure the design encapsulates everything this space is about - comfort, cosiness, chatting with your friends, with a touch of something special to make you feel great being there.

As with all Living Ventures places, the staff have been expertly trained - we were met, welcomed and seated by genuinely friendly people and the staff knew most of the curve ball questions we threw at them (bar the whiskey question, but they were good enough to go and find out from the well-stocked bar).

The premise at Artisan is to relax and order food to share - we took advantage of this attitude and ordered a phalanx of nibbles and starters:

• Olives; you can actually go wrong with olives, but Artisan have been clever enough to ensure they're bloody fresh and bunged a load of herbs on top.
• Focaccia with dips; the bread was super fresh and straddled the just salty enough line with aplomb - the accompanying dips could have been a little more punchy, but we made up by dipping it in the camembert.
• Baked camembert; melty cheese, what could be better? Artisan sprinkle said melty cheese with pine nuts and rosemary - simple, but inspired.
• BBQ pork rib; a massive hunk of meat, soft and succulent in a pretty good BBQ sauce. The sauce could have been a bit more zingy, but was tasty enough for us to lick our fingers afterwards.
• Wood baked sardines; out of the starters, this was the bum dish. The salsa
  
  that accompanied the fish had a great kick, but the sardines were dry and served on an over sized piece of wood. Now I understand Artisan's schtick is to cook stuff in the wood-fired oven, but the fish to wood ratio was ridiculous and we couldn't see how the wood had affected the taste of the fish.
• Baked mussels - we thought these would be horribly chewy, having been in the oven, but this dish was amazing. Moules marinares steamed to perfection under a dough duvet - I'm not sure if you're meant to eat the crust, but it made a great plate to mouth transport devise for the sweetly, garlic rich sauce.

As we reached mains, we decided to save our waists a little and order only one dish apiece. The pulled pork burger was a solid, comforting dish with plenty of salty, soft meat. The salt baked sea bass was a star of a dish; perfectly steamed and seasoned in its salt crust, with the added theatre of it being hammered out of said crust by a member of the waiting staff, whilst we watched, goggled eyed.

Unfortunately my dish of pork tenderloin, let the side down. The dish itself was a great contrast of sweet and sharp tastes; apples and a mustard sauce cutting through the sweet fattiness of the pork. However the pork itself was over cooked, dry and slightly chewy - a shame, as if it had been spot on, this may have been the winning dish of the evening.

We were stuffed, but salted caramel baked bananas was too much like yum for us to turn down, so we
managed to find space - glad we did, simple yet delicious, the gingerbread ice cream was a perfect match for the warm, gooey, savoury-ish bananas.

Artisan is a great space; the food is mostly excellent, the staff are brilliant and it's not too heavy on the pocket (unless you try and eat the whole menu, like us gluttons). For a simple, laid back and definitely better than middle-of-the-road meal, go visit.

Price for five starters, three mains, two sides, three puddings, two cocktails, three beers, a whisky and two glasses of pudding wine: £139.85

Food - 7/10
Atmosphere - 8/10
Service - 9/10
Value for money - 7/10

Total - 32/40

Go again - yes, it's a great place to hang out with friends.

Artisan, Avenue North, 18-22 Bridge Street, Spinningfields, Manchester M3 3BZ - Manchester@artisan.uk.com - 0161 832 4181 - Twitter - Facebook

www.artisan.uk.com

Please note, I was given this meal gratis, but as you can see from my varied review of the dishes, I wasn't under any obligation to say anything nice.

 

 

 

Kowloon Correspondents' Club - Barton Arcade, Manchester

Them Liquorists, Manchester's self-styled sauce slingers, tellers of tall tales and the purveyors of the most innovative/high class bar crawls I've ever been on, have done it again.

This time they've only gone and got themselves a proper bloody bar in Manchester city centre, which has popped up for the next two months to serve you beautifully crafted Belvedere cocktails (guess who they've partnered with...), an injection of oriental glamour and, as they informed me the other night, 'to get a bit of our luxury into your mouths,' - a phrase which works somewhat better when you see the (lecherous) faces they pulled with that.

To bring you the Kowloon Correspondents Club, The Liquorists have taken over a unit in the graceful, victorian Barton Arcade mall. Barton Arcade has been one of my favourite architectural gems since I first moved to Manchester twelve years ago and unfortunately has become a little underused these days, so it's great to see people using it again in a creative, playful way.

We kicked off our night with a Belvedere masterclass; tasting different expressions of the gin and the brand's signature Zephyr cocktail (heavy on the pink grapefruit). I'm not going to wax lyrical about the aceness of Belvedere because I've done that before, but I will wax on about KCC (as the kids are calling it).

Kowloon serves cocktails made of Belvedere vodka and some other stuff (skillfully) thrown in for good measure. As the staff are all part of The Liquorists you know that they know their stuff and that they know their way around the bar - if you go early, before the rush, they're also all pretty nice chaps who will explain anything you need to know about the drink you are drinking.

KCC is offering free Belvedere masterclasses so get yourself down there early - not only will you get some free booze, but you'll learn some knowledge that will make you sound super cool in front of your friends AND it's genuinely a very fun way to start of an evening.

So pop down to Barton Arcade, marvel at the beautiful victorian engineering and then slip into the moody/cosy/quirky space that is KCC - be quick, it's only there for a couple of months.

Ps good news - between 5 and 7pm EVERYTHING at the bar is half price. Would be rude not to...

Kowloon Correspondents Club is open Thurs through Sat, 5pm  - midnight.

Kowloon Correspondents Club, Off Deansgate/Off St Anne's Square, Manchester M3 2BW - Twitter

www.theliquorists.com

Cicchetti - Manchester

Unlike swathes of my friends, peers and fellow mancunions, I had yet to have eaten at Cicchetti, the latest (though not that new now! Get with the times etc! - ed) offering from the San Carlo group.

Part laziness, part skintness and part 'every-time-I-go-in-the-service-is-appalling-and-I-leave-before-I'm-seated-ness', has kept me away. Till now. Because we were very hungry and mother was paying.

Packed, even on a rainy mid-week lunchtime, we were asked to wait at the bar; we ordered a coffee, we watched the world pass and this time, we were treated with impeccable service. The relaxed opulence, the hurry-scurrying of the waiters and the fact everyone seemed to either be speaking in Italian (staff) or to be extremely tanned (well-heeled customers), made us feel 'like us on us 'olidays, in Italy, like.'



Buzzy, busy - Cicchetti at lunchtime

 

Capricious menu

Cicchetti's premise and inspiration, is the cicchetti bars of Venice; where small plates are brought out with drinks, tapas style. The menu is quite vast and I could have happily eaten most of the dishes on there – however we were advised that five between two would probably satisfy (and they were correct, pudding was noted to have 'pushed us over.' Mother was smug, she didn't eat pudding).

Despite sitting in an Italian restaurant and feeling rather continental, Mother and I bickered in the most British of fashions, suggesting dishes and immediately deprecating said suggestion in favour for anything the other suggested. Luckily I went back five days later and ordered all the dishes I'd conceded.

In the end we settled on the Goat Ragu (this month’s special), a meaty, soft, delicate and satisfying dish with some of the best pasta I’ve eaten (family gossip, my little brother has started making his own pasta) and the best dish of the day (we may not have agreed on which dishes to order, but we both agreed on this important fact).

We also chose the buffalo mozzarella with tomato; a very small dish, but the sheer amount of flavour, seasoning and quality made up for it. There were butterflied sardines on toast with a caper and roasted tomato sauce, more capers were needed in my opinion, but Mother was happy as she hates them (this was a dish she had conceded to me, her special spoiled princess).

We also ordered the duck and apple salad, expecting more apple than duck, a la everywhere else I’ve ever eaten. Instead we were confronted by what must have been at least a quarter of a duck; super soft and sweet, with peppery rocket and fine slices of sharp apple to cut through the buttery meat.

And then there was the dish of green beans. This could be construed as a boring choice, actually it was my attempt to inject something healthy into the meal. The beans may have been green, but I would guess that at least 200g of butter had been melted over the top of 100g of beans. This is how beans should always be served. Take note.

Quick aside - run down on the dishes I order five days later minus mother, plus friend who I practically bullied into these choices:
1. Terra board - the creamiest, dreamiest mozzarella scattered with slices of charcuterie.
2. Calamari - my 'kitchen competency test' - just cooked, the sweet squid was encased in the lightest, well seasoned batter.
3. Courgette 'chips' - see beans above. Everything that applies to them applies to this dish.
4. Mushroom pizza - anywhere else this would be an amazing dish, but with everything else on the table, this was obscured.
5. Dolce cicchetti - a big board full of puddings, great for sharing, not a patch on affagato (see below).



Full, satisfied and utterly charmed by our waiter, we finished on coffee – well Mother did, I had the affagato, because coffee is always better when it super strong, poured over ice cream and finished with a good kick of amaretto.

Cicchetti’s a rare place where you can either order a quick, small plate for one at lunch (sit at the bar, listen to the waiters, pretend you’re in Venice and have sunny fantasises before heading back to the office) or sit down for hours, order plate after plate of inspired, brilliantly cooked food and share them with sunny laughter, gossip, wine and friends – and anything in between.


I'm not sure why I stayed away for so long!

Price for five small dishes, two glasses of wine, two coffees and one pudding – £53.35

 
Food – 9/10
Service – 9/10
Atmosphere – 9/10
Value for money – 8/10

Go again – see above. Yes, yes, YES!

Cicchetti, House of Fraser Ground Floor (private entrance off King Street West), Deansgate, Manchester M3 2QG - 0161 839 2233 - cicchetti.kendals@sancarlo.co.uk - Facebook - Twitter

www.sancarlocicchetti.co.uk

Neighbourhood - Manchester

Neighbourhood has been on my ‘to visit’ list for some time now, securing a place through good reviews and some shameless self-promotion (restaurants, please do not retweet every tweet people make about hanging out with you, thanks); but each time I have ventured near, the overspill of leopard print, shiny suits and false nails pushes me on elsewhere.

Neighbourhood - with thanks to Likerish Split

A few weeks back I was taken there; wasn't my choice, but my new personal development challenge is to stop being a dining control freak – NEWS FLASH – I am letting other people choose where we  go to eat (sometimes) (and not making bitchy comments before we have, at least, eaten there). I can't say I still don't get sweaty palms doing this, but if the meal is a disaster I am no longer crushed by catholic levels of guilt for weeks after.

Neighbourhood is located on the outer edges of the corporate world of Spinningfields. Owned by those chaps at Southern Eleven (all meat, stripped wood and Americana), Neighbourhood has been designed to recreate the feel of a Manhattan neighbourhood bar; unfortunately, like Spinningfields itself, it's all a little too clean cut, carefully constructed and image conscious.



Underwhelming shrimps

Dining on a Tuesday night didn't feel very neighbourly, in fact we didn't have any neighbours at all; our waiter made up for that, his customer service was spot on, he knew the menu inside out and wasn't afraid to describe the negatives as well as the positives of the dishes – this service, coupled with the good reviews and enjoying the food at Southern Eleven, initially promised good things from the night to come.


The buttermilk fried Chicken Lollipops we had to start were sweet, moist and salty - all my food cravings rolled into one great little dish; I am underlining the word LITTLE here. We'd ordered the Shrimp, Crackle and Pop because it sounded fun, a case of 'shucks you are so cool for putting rice crispies in a dish' – what actually came to the table was not fun; an overly reduced bisque with a cloying, metallic taste (that tainted my mouth for the rest of the evening), two chewy prawns and some very soggy rice crispies. For £9.

Baked Lobster Mac 'n' Cheese has been the one dish receiving constant rave reviews, my twitter feed is littered with it, however our experience of it was anything other than rave. How Neighbourhood managed to create a dish of pasta that was simultaneously dry and chewy on top, whilst soggy and swimming in pasta water on the bottom, I have no idea. There was little sauce, any to be found was watery and under-seasoned; there was no hint of cheese and very little of lobster (two, chewy, tiny pieces) - at £15 the dish left a hole in both stomachs and wallets.



Rubbish picture, not much better dish

The Grilled Rock Bass with clams and spinach was the best dish of the evening, but don't take that as a ringing endorsement. The fish and clams were well cooked, obviously lobster mac chef didn't cook this one, but that was the only thing going for the dish. The accompanying sauce was so insipid it may have been better to leave it off as it was so unnoticeable, the spinach was limp, the taste akin to eating solidified dishwater and I doubt any salt had even been near the dish, let alone added to it.

Sweet tooth pizza - £15

For some reason we decided to stay for pudding; maybe it was hunger, maybe we wanted to find a saving grace, maybe I have such a dazzling personality (definitely not the latter – ed). We picked the Sweet Tooth Pizza to share; a car crash of brownies, marshmallows, pecans and caramel loaded onto a sweet pizza base. The base was overly chewy, the brownies overly dry - the marshmallow was nice and that's about it. At least this dish was big enough to fill us up.

Neighbourhood's menu promises taste, comfort and competent cooking - but just like Spinningfield itself and Neighbourhood's usual punters, the food is all about show rather than substance.



Price for two starters, two mains, a pudding and two glasses of wine: £71.50

Food - 4/10
Atmosphere - 5/10
Service - 7/10
Value for money - 3/10

Total 19/40

Go again? - No thanks, I'll stick to somewhere that knows money/looks aren't everything.

Neighbourhood, The Avenue, Spinningfields, Manchester – M3 3JE reservations@neighbourhoodrestaurant.co.uk – 0161 832 6334 - Twitter

www.neighbourhoodrestaurant.co.uk

Gincident with The Liquorists - Castlefield, Manchester

'Believe me my young friend, there is nothing, absolute nothing, half so much worth doing as simply messing about in boats...'

From the moment my young ears received this infinite wisdom from Kenneth Graham, via Ratty, via the lips of my mother imaginatively mimicking what she thought a water vole would sound like if one could speak, I've been fascinated by boats. (By the way Ratty is a misnomer, Ratty is actually a water vole).

Having grown up an actual stone's throw away from the sea and surrounded by gallons of crystal clear welsh mountain lakes, many have questioned why, if so enamoured, I didn't learn to sail - we'll gloss over that (I'm a shit hot swimmer though). Whether I can sail or not, stepping onto the deck of a boat and (having someone else) casting off, the lap lap lap on the hull and the slightly hypnotic to-fro swaying, is what makes me happiest in this crazy world of ours.

The bars of city centre Manchester aren't renowned for their proximity to either crystal clear lakes or the salty tang of the sea; but what they do have is a) a canal and b) the genius of the The Liquorists to work out that the only thing better than messing about in boats - is messing about in boats with a tonne of cocktails. And in this case, a tonne of gin.

Our captains and the lovely Lowry

We got our sea (manky canal water) legs ready and were met with large grins (and even larger gins) by The Liquorists who had commandeered the L.S Lowry for the Gincident; a veritable vessel steered by the chaps from City Centre Cruises - luckily for us, they were wise enough not to let any of the reprobates from The Liquorists play captain.

Salmon thanks to Tone Photography

On board we were served an exceptional meal from Hannah Eddleston; The Liquorists usually serve up some good food, but this was amazing - cured salmon with dill was tender and light, melting spiced ham hock with juniper and jewelled cous cous, succulent spicy chicken drumsticks on white bean salad and an inspired savoury strawberry salad.

Hannah took inspiration for her dishes from the botanicals used to flavour the gins we were sampling that night, coupled it with her exceptional cooking skills and then served us hefty portions to soak up the torrent of booze that we were about to receive - she's one talented girl.

As with any Liquorists night, the aim isn't just to get sozzled (that's just a happy coincident); the nights are an educational meander through different versions of one type of spirit - the Gincident, very obviously, being about gin.

'Jamie Jones and THAT jacket

Our gin journey was lead by the very amiable/competent/dashingly dressed Jamie Jones (just look at that blazer!); he's just been crowned G'Vine's Global Gin Connoisseur 2013, so I'm not sure there's anyone more proficient in gin-knowledge - he certainly seemed to know his stuff.

We started with the history of gin; this terribly British tipple actually started life as genever over in Holland - there has been a history of distilling juniper based white spirits to cure medical ailments since medieval times, but it wasn't till we went to war in the 17th century that we got our hands on it.

Gin started being distilled in the UK in the 18th century; some of it was frankly frightening stuff and lead to many social ills, Hogarth producing THAT drawing and earning it the moniker 'Mother's Ruin.' These days, thankfully, it's a quality spirit that has been given the attention of many premium and craft brands - with Jamie Jones at our helm, he steered us through his favourite expressions of the spirit and showed us there is more to the G and T than just gin and tonic (indeed check why we put tonic in our gins HERE).

Bloom - thanks Tone Photography

G'vine - thanks Tone Photography

We tried:
Genever - tastes like bargain gin from the supermarket.
Plymouth - old school; what you think gin tastes like.

Miller's - thanks Tone Photography

Massimo - thanks Tone Photography

Miller's - uses Icelandic water to give it a clean taste.
Bloom - the most floral of the gins we tasted.
G'Vine Floraison - made from grape spirit in France; Flouraison is the sweeter one.
G'Vine Nouaison - far more musky than Flouraison.

For each spirit we received one shot to sip (sip that is, not down, this was a civilised boat tour or something), whilst Jamie talked us through the botanics used to flavour each; then, for each gin, we were given a cocktail made by the unmatchable Massimo - each one using ingredients to match the botanics in each.

Cruise over, the sights of Manchester and Salford (and many cool birds including a grey wagtail, cormorants, sand martins and a kestrel family) seen, we gathered our slightly less steady sea legs and departed into the warm summer Manchester night - all happy faces proving that gin is far from a mother's ruin these days.

If you want to book the Gincident, do so HERE and any other of the Liquorists services HERE (cos they don't just steer people round in boats and fill them full of booze you know).


Ps The cruise we took can be booked, sans booze/Liquorists, through City Centre Cruises - it really is a good way to see the sights and excellent for bird watching.

Pps The good pictures were all kindly supplied by the ace Tone Photography.

Please note I was given my ticket to the Gincident for free, but I'm not inclined to say anything nice, The Liquorists are just tip top at what they do. And I did like Jamie's jacket.

Can Do Crumb - 22 Redbank, Manchester

There are many people who will tell you that carbs are the devil's work and must be avoided at all costs. Ignore them.

You need carbs in your life. I'm not going to give you a lecture on the health benefits of including a moderate amount of complex carbs in your diet, as this is an enjoyable (I hope) food blog and not some whiny vegan shite. I am, however, now going to write a post all about bread. Get over it.

When I moved out of my chaotic student house, I took a flat with the girlfriend of one of my housemates; as much as he supported this decision (well, his two favourite ladies in one place, who wouldn't?) he failed to see how this would work - 'but Sarah doesn't eat toast' he exclaimed to my future flatmate. Kat loved bread. She ate a lot of toast and I was a notorious toast dodger. He just didn't see how we'd be compatible (for posterity - we got on very well, one of the best housemates I've ever had).

Until recently, this bread aversion has always been the case, I just didn't eat a lot of bread. I had no urge, no need, no craving for buttery carbiness; I hated sandwiches (still do in most cases), would only eat toast if there was NOTHING else to eat and just didn't get why my sane, intelligent friends would find it so hard to cut out a bit of bakery for a few weeks to get in to a bridesmaids/wedding/party/delete as appropriate dress.

And then I started frequenting a local bakery and making the odd (very worthy but I persevered eating it anyways) loaf - a world of chewy crusts, delicate crumb, sour taste, the crack as the bread knife broke through the freshly baked crust... toast was soon something I was getting excited about before going to bed; I got scarily interested in flour types and even, once, contemplated making a sandwich (I didn't do it).

Can't beat a good loaf

After this awakening, I now perceive my current bread intake to be horrendous, however chatting to colleagues and friends I realise it's only horrendous in relation to the amount of bread I used to eat. I'm not going to name and shame the 'whole loaves in a day by themselves' people I know. They're northern.

A few weeks back I was invited to 22 Redbank; the funky office come bar come photo studio come space that houses The Liquorists and Tone Photography. 'Come and learn to make some bread' they said - not sure I was up for spending my Saturday night being lectured at by some Cheshire-set-WI-wifey who teaches/patronises idiots like me for a bit of pin money, whilst hubby supports the whole shebang by creaming it off the oil industry - 'there will be free food and cocktails from The Liquorists.' Oh alright then, free booze/food always gets me out of the house and my homemade bread is shocking, so I reasoned it was worth it.

Pushing open the door to 22 Redbank (guys, please fix the bell, rapping hurts my little girl hands) I was greeted by a quiet, but friendly bunch of young people with drinks in their hands, making introductions and chatting with one another. Over bounded a petite brunette in an apron with her hand thrust out warmly ('kitchen help girl,' mind thought; oh damn you first impressions/stereotypes). 'Hi, I'm Jess, I'm going to be your teacher and I'll forget your name, so you're called sweetypie.' Suddenly, I realised this was no stuffy bread making class, this might actually be fun....

Bread. Booze. Boom.

Introductions over, we all trooped downstairs, where Jess gave us a little bit of her background (talented lady) and a quick introduction to the mechanics of 'how bread works.' For people like me who need to know why something happens before we can master it, this was perfect; unpretentious, funny and very interesting, I nearly didn't notice a new cocktail being placed in my hands. Nearly.

Next we tasted a few different breads, which had been made fresh by Jess and chatted about what we liked about each, whilst learning about the different technique/ingredients required for each bake. Throughout this, Jess confidently and engagingly fielded numerous questions from novices and those wishing to learn more - why won't my bread rise, the texture is wrong when I bake, why do we need yeast.... and so on - we had a lot to ask.

And then it was our turn to have a go - as we were only there an evening, Jess instructed us on one of the easiest breads around; Irish soda bread (risen with baking soda and not yeast so no need to knead/prove/knockback/etc) (get you with your lingo - Ed).

First off 'taste this buttermilk Sarah', 'er ok;' cue the most screwed up face I have ever made and chortles all round (I was not chortling, damn my curiosity!), a quick instruction on how to make the bread and then it was all bunged in the oven. During baking time, Jess regaled us with tall bread tales and showed us different techniques to use when making a yeast based loaf. AND busted all the myths that you need expensive, fancy kit to make bread. You don't even need yeast! Just hands, flour, water and an oven.

The night was finished off by more cocktails from Jamie Jones, bartender extraordinaire and part of The Liquorists - he even made a passable Chocolate Old Fashioned - in real person's terms, this was AMAZING and should probably win awards; I still don't think you should mess with an old fashioned though. Oh and a nice wee dram of whisky that I'm not allowed to tell Jody we drank...
     

Jamie Jones doing his 'ay ees Massimo' impression

Can Do Crust isn't a night for experienced bread makers to get together and discuss the finer points of flour rising technicalities and neither is it a night for personal, solitary learning - it's a fun, sociable get together, where you learn some pretty useful skills and get pretty tipsy too. Got a birthday/meet up planned, bored of the meat market that town is, want to make some new friends? Get yourself booked on to the next one HERE.

Can Do is part of a monthly series of events organised by Tone Photographer in conjunction with The Liquorists at 22 Redbank. In the next few months they will cover Crumbs (cake), Crunch (biscuits), Cremes (custards) and Confectionery (petit fours) (lovely alliteration there) and each one is priced at £35 for 3 hours full of learning/making/taking home and a selection of cocktails.

Can Do, Tone Photographer, 22 Redbank, Manchester M4 4HF - website - twitter - facebook - shep@tonephotographer.com

Please note, I was given my ticket to this night for free, but wouldn't have written such a glowing report if I hadn't had one of the best nights out that I've had in bloody ages. I implore you to go along, you won't regret it.