The Blue Pig - Northern Quarter, Manchester

My parents are Francophiles, unlike most of the British population I was brought up to respect those 'cheese eating surrender monkeys' by being force fed camembert from the age of four, drinking wine at table with every meal and my Mum talking to me constantly in French (so I took up Spanish at school and can still only say "je suis desole, je ne parle pas francias, je suis anglais" - TIP works a treat if you pull that in a bar in Paris coupled with the big eye look. Well it does if you're a girl).

The Blue Pig is the latest addition to the Northern Quarter; within, it's all dark wood, glass lampshades and charcuterie - like a slice of Montmarte served up to add some bohemian splendour to our rainy city. I did expect waitresses in flapper dresses and Lautrec in the corner with a bottle of the green fairy, but instead it was just after work young professionals and friends chatting over bottles of wine.

Ooh c'est tres chic, non? With thanks to The Blue Pig

It's a buzzy place, with staff zipping back and forwards - an open charcuterie counter and a well stocked bar (yes, I noted ALL the drinks - you know me, standard). The menu is a mix of sharing boards, cheeses, pates, meats, breads and a 333 menu - three each of starters, mains and puddings; you can have one of each for £20 or as separate dishes - it's all very reasonably priced.

Meats and cheeses and other delectables

We ordered a sharing board - some perfectly ripe roquefort, softly smoked salmon, finocchiona (fennel salami) and a very garlicky, smoky baba ganoush. Obviously we wanted bread to dip and chose the cumin studded kulcah flat bread, a little greasy but very perfumed and great with the baba ganoush. Everything was brought at room temperature, so we managed to taste the flavours in each - many places will serve meat and cheese fridge cold; big no no. But that wasn't the best thing about the meal; we'd rung ahead to explain one of us was gluten free, mainly to see of they did GF bread - we were advised they didn't but we could bring our own (which we did. Girl Guides, we'll well prepared) - however as soon as we said "can you make sure the bread is served separately because of contamination" off scooted the waitress and out came some GF bread. They'd only bloody gone and bought some especially (and a very good version too).

The board we created

Even though we visited in the first week The Blue Pig was already buzzing like a Northern Quarter stalwart that's been there for years. The level of service and understanding from the staff only did more  to support this feeling - it's as if The Blue Pig has always been here, let's hope it stays that way.

Ps The Blue Pig also does breakfasts, lunches AND churros (like donuts but way better), which I can't wait to try.

Price for a sharing board (four selections, plus two bread selections) £14.50

Food - 8/10 (although I'd like to try their cooked food as we just had a sharing board)
Service - 8/10
Atmosphere - 9/10
Value for money - 7/10 (the portions were good, but I'd like to see the 333 menu portions)

Total - 32/40

Go again - yeah the atmosphere is great, even if you're just in for drinks. I want to try that 333 menu as it looked like there were some very interesting dishes on there.

The Blue Pig, 69 High Street, The Northern Quarter, Manchester M4 1FS - 0161 832 0630 - manager@thebluepigmcr.co.uk - Facebook - Twitter

www.thebluepigmcr.co.uk

63 Degrees - Manchester

The first cuisine I feel in love with was French. At the age of 11 I stayed away from home for the first time, alone in Kent, at the house of my great aunt Peggy (very bohemian; she’s now 90 and has a 60 year old boyfriend) who took me to London and to a little back street restaurant with a menu written in nothing but French and a stereo that played nothing but Piaf.

The next year we took the chunnel for lunch high above Calais in a restaurant all alone on a hill, the white table clothes blowing in the breeze coming through the open veranda, nothing in our gaze but the tops of trees glinting like emeralds. We ate fois gras on toast and drank the local white, then stopped off to fill up with claret before having dinner in Kent that evening.

Manchester’s dining scene has been lacking a dedicated, affordable French eatery since Brasserie Blanc closed down. In a city awash with Italians, the opening of 63 Degrees is a breath of Gallic fresh air (an oxymoron? Mai oui!)

63 Degrees - with thanks to themselves

Run by the Moreau family, Dad’s in the kitchen and Mum and son are out front. There’s a history of good food and cooking here – Dad has worked for a two-Michelin starred place in ol’ Paris and in various catering companies across the channel; his gastronomic background shines through the  menu – there’s snails, egg cocotte, black risotto and the restaurant’s trademark poultry cooked at  (yep you guessed it) 63 degrees. According to the blurb, this is the optimum temperature to serve it, keeping it soft and moist and unlocking 'unforgettable flavours.'

First a canape of boudin noir and caramelised onions on toast – porcine, salty and sweet; a well thought out, simple pairing that let the produce do that talking.

Don't use your flash on black pudding, it doesn't work!

The snails that followed were de-shelled; a way I’ve never had them before. These were soft, sweet and NOT covered with butter, garlic and parsley; a great idea - you could actually taste what a snail tastes like. The accompanying ratte potatoes were salty, hot slivers of crispy starch; simple idea, wonderfully done.

Snails eating their greens

It would be rude to dine somewhere that was named after a way of cooking and not try out a dish cooked that way. The 63 degree duckling with chicory was another simple concoction that packed a tasty punch. A soft, pink fillet arrived in a puddle of ruby red sauce contrasting elegantly with the simple white plate and linen of the table. Bitter, caramelised chicory cut through the sweet, silky duck and the char on both the duck and vegetable added a savoury note that tied the dish together nicely.

Flashes don't work on puddles of fruity sauce either

The butcher's steak was cooked spot on, displaying that Eric’s cooking skills aren’t limited to temperature controlled poultry. The meat was accompanied by a steaming pot of unctuous dauphinous and the best homemade béarnaise ever. Definitely not from a jar or eeked out with artificial thickeners; creamy, dreamy, divine.

With sated appetites and full tummies we relaxed into the soft leather booth to contemplate pudding. Out came our café gourmand – coffee and macaroons. Eric macaroon’s will become a Manchester must have in the coming months; soft little discs of understated flavour and creamy filling that aren’t overly sweet. What’s more impressive is that they’re not bought in, Eric creates these himself (indeed he even makes a really big one for macaroon fiends). I dream about these little globes of almondy delight and would fore go the usual once a year treat of a Laduree box in favour of Eric’s any day (well, may be not the rose ones).

To finish Eric came over and suggested Armangac, very good choice and the perfect end to a very good meal.

63 Degrees is the cuisine I fell in love with – simple yet well thought out French cuisine with careful, attentive front of house and unobtrusive French music on the speakers. Manchester needs more chic, more glamour and more French – viva la revolution!

Price for two starters, two mains, one pudding, two glasses of wine, two Armangacs and a coffee – 78.95

Food – 8/10
Service – 8/10
Atmosphere – 7/10 (point knocked off for being a little quiet)
Value for money – 7/10

Total – 30/40

Go again? Yes definitely – understatedly elegant and chic without the usual bling and big attitude that you get in Manchester’s restaurants. This place has style AND substance.

63 Degrees, 20 Church Street, Norther Quarter, Manchester M4 1PN - 0161 832 5438 - dine@63degrees.co.uk - Twitter - Facebook

http://www.63degrees.co.uk/

Please note the restaurant did not know I was there and didn’t know who I was, though they did know my dining companion as he is their butcher.