San Carlo Bottega - Selfridges, Manchester

I'm not saying it's my best trait, but I'm known for being slightly, ever so slightly, competitive (slightly? Your uni housemates nicknamed you 'Monica' - ed).

If I were to pop psychoanalyse myself (as one does in the wee small hours), I would say this all stems from having a father who, instead of playing family games in a manner which allowed his small children a slight advantage, ruthlessly exploited our weaknesses to completely own whichever board it was we were playing on. 

When a challenge is laid down, I'll take it; hence why when Alessandro DiStefano of the San Carlo Restaurant Group, picked up my last blog post on Cicchetti and then laid down the challenge that if I thought that was good, I'd positively love Bottega, their new opening at Manchester's Selfridges; I couldn't say no, could I?

Bottega is an extension of the successful Cicchetti concept; small, tapas style plates to share, that come out when they're ready. What's the point of opening another place just like the one down the road (I hear you say)? Bottega's premise may be similar, but there are differences - instead of purely Italian cuisine, Bottega injects some French-style dishes to the menu, which is great because a) I bloody love French food and b) it makes a change from the raft of like-for-like Italian joints that Manchester is overrun with.

Decor is similar to the pared back opulence and marble found at Cicchetti and San Carlos, but with the most beautiful duck egg blue leather seats looking out over the twinkling lights of Exchange Square. I could take about the bar and the window of Italian produce, but enough of the decor, this is a food blog, so let's talk food.

Zucchini fritters are always a must and dare I say it, Bottega's were even better than the ones at Cicchetti (I know!); a super light batter surrounded slightly crunchy veg, all perfectly seasoned (think licking salt off your fingers level of seasoning).

As I said at Cicchetti, if I'd had the San Carlo pizza at any other restaurant, I'd be raving about it, but as everything else we ate was so good, the pizza just because another great dish among many; smokey from the oven, warmth from the chillies and savoury loveliness from the meat on top.

Chicken spiedino, ordered from the specials menu, was a moist, charred and salty skewer of pancetta wrapped chicken, sweet peppers and red onions. A dish of toulouse sausage was served with just an egg to dip in; anything more would have taken away from the sweetness of the fennel and the absolute quality of the sausage. Lemon sole and black shrimp was impeccably cooked, the flesh just off translucent - the shrimps, a spicy hint of mace and a squeeze of lemon kept the dish simple but memorable.

But the star of the night, the dish we are still talking about and the dish I will order every time I go back to Bottega, will be the tuna tartare. You may wonder what can be special about this dish; many places serve it and it doesn't particularly push gastronomic boundaries, but the classic simplicity and theatre of being served the dish is why it's so magic.

Frederico, tartare king

Tuna tartare at Bottega goes something like this; the waiting staff bring a sliver platter and set it up next to your table. Upon the platter they place a bottle of tabasco, a lemon, some oil, some balsamic, some salt and some pepper. And they leave you with that for a moment. You wait, you muse, you eat some more zucchini.

Tuna tartare - dish of my dreams

A plate is then brought to you; tuna, rocket, onion, caper, mustard and red onion - you are shown all of the finely chopped ingredients and you are asked if you like all of them (you can create your tartare to your exact tastes, adding or leaving out any of the ingredients you wish). Ingredient inspection over, your waiter expertly mixes everything, stopping to show you each step; an understated spectacle.

And then the dish is placed between you, you eat it, the balance of flavours is so exact and so clean you can't say anything and you don't. Tip, ask for Frederico to serve this dish to you. He's a master.

I ate all these

We finished with pudding, three of them between the two of us, for research purposes of course. If you like pannacotta, eat the Bottega one, I swear it's made with the creamiest cream you can cream off a cow. The rum baba is also worth a mention for sheer 70's nostalgia of puddings lovingly created for me by my grandma; light, boozy, making me feel like a happy little child (but don't eat the vanilla cream on top, a little too sweet and overbalances the dish somewhat).

Throughout the evening we'd been cossetted by very friendly staff. Like their other restaurants, San Carlo has invested heavily in customer service and it shows. Professional, knowledgeable, slightly cheeky and nowhere near dour, the staff made our evening.

I accepted the challenge to like Bottega and I can unequivocally say that I do. The decor is beautiful without being OTT, the staff are so friendly they make you feel like family, the food is spot on and the inclusion of french dishes is an inspiration, truly making Bottega stand out from the crowd. The only downsides? They'd run out of cassolet (my favourite dish bar a bouillabaisse) and they only open till 8pm - they have to close when Selfridges does. Just means I'll have to have some 'long lunches...'

Now, which one do I prefer - Bottega or Cicchetti. Not sure I'll ever be able to decide (obviously needs more 'research' - ed).

Dishes are Bottega are priced between £6 and £12, you need about six between two people with health appetites, but could get away with one pizza for a light-ish lunch.

Food - 8/10

Service - 9/10

Atmosphere - 7/10

Value for money - 8/10

Total - 32/40

Go again - yes. As with Cicchetti, I plan to become a regular and maybe even just move in.

Bottega, 2nd Floor Selfridges, 1 Exchange Square, Manchester M3 1BD - Twitter

Please note, I was invited to Bottega, they knew I was there and my food was free - however as with any freebie, I mark harder than if I've paid and you know me, I'll tell you when something is rubbish.

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.