Around the World in 80 Meals! (part 2)

Mexico - 27/02/09

Friend and fellow IgoUgo member Colette was flying in for the weekend from Ireland so I arranged to meet her for lunch. Only having an hour we decided to go to Chiquito in the Printworks for a Mexican meal – not only was it near my office, but it also served a set price lunch menu. Moreover it was another step on my quest to travel Around the World in 80 Meals without leaving Manchester.

The Printworks is precisely what it says – a former newspaper printing works on the corner of Corporation Street and Withy Grove, opposite the Triangle and the Arndale Centre annex. It is just over eight years ago now that the big grey building was redeveloped as an entertainment complex. It now houses a collection of bars (Lloyds, Tiger Tiger, Henry J Beans, Waxy O'Connors, Norwegian Blue, Hard Rock Café), restaurants (Old Orleans, Wagamamas, Nandos, Café Rouge, Yum Yums), clubs (Opus, Pure) and an Odeon cinema. On weekend evenings it is a good place to hang out, particularly the interior courtyard, watching as the tipsy hen parties trip past.

Of course, there were no hen parties at 1pm on a Friday. Still, Chiquito was almost full – I think we were steered to the last free table. I knew that the menu promised beers (Mexican such as Corona and Dos Equis, or Spanish such as San Miguel or Estrella Damm) – and of course margaritas – as the last time I had visited a branch of Chiquito (in Southport) it had been an evening affair. However it wasn’t really appropriate to be drinking during my lunch hour, and we both went for soft drinks. You can order a ‘bottomless’ glass with unlimited refills for £2.45. This maybe wasn’t the wisest move considering our limited time, and we never had refills. Still, otherwise you can only get soft drinks by the 330ml bottle for £2.20 each, which is pretty expensive – the beers are only £2.95 each!

The lunch menu is available from noon to 5pm on weekdays. The offer is one course for £5.95, two courses for £7.25, and three for £8.45. Vegetarian options are prominently signified. Deciding for two courses I ordered Stuffed Pepper, followed by Chicken Fajitas; Colette ordered Loaded Potato Skins and a Meatball Sub.

When the potato skins were served, they looked to me like a bit of a paltry appetiser. They come stuffed with cheese and your choice of bacon, barbecued pork, vegetable or beef chilli, or a tomato / red onion / jalapeno mix. In contrast I got quite a hefty red pepper, stuffed with rice and enchilada sauce and topped with melted cheese. Both main courses were sizeable. Colette’s sub came with fries and posed the question of how to actually attack it – with fingers or with a knife and fork. The meatball sauce of tomato and chilli and the melted Monterey Jack cheese oozed everywhere. No such problem in deciding how to deal with my fajitas. Chiquito describe the dish as ’Our Famous Sizzling Fajitas’ - and with good reason. I ended up taking over half the table as I was brought warm flour tortillas on one plate, and then a wooden block with a sizzler plate as well. From the latter came a ferocious hissing and a cloud of steam. The strips of chicken and the sliced onions and peppers still fizzled on the iron plate – you could see that several other diners around the room had ordered the same thing as periodically wait staff emerged from the kitchens hissing and smoking like steam trains. Alongside came pots of fairly standard tomato salsa and cooling sour cream (both of which I used), and another of guacamole (which I didn’t). There were enough tortillas to fashion four fajitas, and they were as good as any I have had at a Mexican restaurant.

If I had a complaint to make it was that we had quite a long gap between our starter plates being collected and our main courses arriving. In fact it was quite hard to attract the attention of the wait staff at all. But as I say, the place was full, and I suppose most of the diners had the same time restrictions on them and needed to get back to work. I certainly didn’t see any of the staff idly standing around. And really it only took 70 minutes between arriving and leaving, after we had each paid a tenner to cover drinks and meal, so I can’t grumble too much. Chiquitos may be a chain, but that does mean that they have put together a tried-and-tested menu, and can offer these lunchtime deals.

(There are other branches of Chiquito at Capital Quay in Salford Quays, and at Parrswood between Didsbury and Stockport. Other Mexican restaurants that I can think of in Manchester are the long-running El Macho on Portland Street, and Barburrito in Piccadilly Gardens.)

Vietnam - 03/03/09

Imagine my delight to spot a Vietnamese restaurant in Northenden!

It had been a while since I had headed south down Palatine Road from where I live. However I was in rehearsals for a play in Northenden, and coming straight from work I found I had arrived very early. It was then that I spotted a new restaurant. Its sign stated that it served Thai and Vietnamese cuisine. Needing to take shelter from the rain and with 40 minutes to kill, I entered.

Dalat could in no way be described as the largest restaurant in the world. Essentially the front room of a blocky retail unit it could only have space for 25 diners at a push. Decor inside is functional. Behind the bar there was a little Buddhist shrine however. Plinky-plonky gamelan-style music played. At first I thought "Ooh, how atmospheric". This soon turned to "Hmm, how annoying!".

As a 'Thai and Viet' restaurant, the menu is mostly Thai. It ranges from starters (eg Thai Dimsum or Chicken Satay, £3.95), through Tom Yum and Tom Kha soups (£3.95), curries all the colours of the traffic lights (£4.95), stir-fries and noodle dishes like Phad Thai (£4.95), up to meals based around duck, rib-eye steak, squid or seabass (£8.95). For the majority of meals (eg curries, noodles and stir-fries) you have the option of having it made with chicken, beef, pork or beancurd - or for £1.00 extra, with prawn. Including starters there were some 50 Thai dishes on offer.

In comparison there were only seven Vietnamese dishes on the menu. However, that was seven more than I had seen anywhere else. A pot of green tea appeared for me, as did some prawn crackers while I chose. There were two types of spring roll (Cha Nem and Bo Bia) for £3.95. The other dishes were £4.95 - Mi Xao Hai San (seafood noodles), Goi Du Du (papaya, prawn, pork & peanuts), Bun Cha Nem Thit Nuong (barbecue pork with noodles), and Nem Nuong (pork, fish & prawns with salad). But the most characteristic Vietnamese dish that I knew of (and which the waitress suggested I have if I wanted an introduction to Vietnamese food) was the famous soup Pho. Given the choice of either beef or chicken I opted for the former, and waited.

I didn't have to wait long. I had been concerned that a mere bowl of soup would not fill me up; the waitress had told me not to worry. I shouldn't have. A large bowl was produced, heaped high with noodles. These were topped with sliced sping onions, shreds of lemongrass, crisp-fried onions, and numerous thin slices of beef. In all it looked a lot bigger than was expecting for £4.95. It came with chopsticks and a wooden ladle for eating. And for seasoning there came a slice of lemon, a bowl of crushed and dried chili peppers, and a bottle of glutinous Vietnamese chili sauce. Now I quite like spicy food, but I soon found that with this sauce a little certainly went a long way! Combined with the piping hot broth it proved to be the perfect antidote to a cold and drizzly evening

As I slurped away at my soup, alternating with cups of the sharp green tea, a sort of zen came upon me. I retreated into my own little world where the plinky-plonky music combined with the hypnotic sound of car tyres slicing through the dark rain-slick streets of south Manchester to bring a little moment of peace to me. I came too with a start when I hit the bottom of the bowl. I loked up. The Buddha behind the bar was smiling at me.

The total bill came to around £7.00 - eminently reasonable. As this is the only Vietnamese restaurant I know of in Manchester (though I saw loads while down in London in February) - and as it is almost next door to one of the drama societies I frequent - I feel it is quite likely that I will return and try some more of their Vietnamese dishes.

Iraq - 05/03/09

The Around The World In 80 Meals quest had to crash and burn at some point. Who would have thought it would occur on meal number thirteen?

I had been desparate to track down a Moroccan restaurant in Manchester. Of all the countires I have been to Morocco was without a doubt the country where I consistently ate the best. When a friend advised me that they believed Marmara in Rusholme was Moroccan I had no hesitation in insisting that we make that our next visit.

To quote Humphrey Bogart in Casablanca: "I was misinformed". While a quick scan of reviews on the internet brings up references to Marmara being Moroccan and serving good food, it turned out that it is now an Iraqi establishment. I can only assume that it has changed hands at some point since 2007. Questioning the name 'Marmara' - which brings to mind the Sea of Marmara in Turkey - Paul was informed that it is actually the name of a small town in Iraq.

The entrance to the restaurant is on Claremont Road in Rusholme, just on the corner with Wilmslow Road. I used to pass the doorway twice a day for four years when I lived further up the road, but never went in. Upstairs you find yourself in a huge dining hall - it must be able to seat 200 at the tables already laid out easily. There is even a childrens' play area at the far end. Marmara do an all-you-can-eat buffet for a set price of £8.50. One wall is lined with cafeteria-style hot plates; an adjacent wall has a bar and a chilled dessert display. Taking plates we went to investigate the buffet.

There were bowls of salad, a small oven containing balls of falafel, lidded hot plates holding kebab meat, shawarma kebab, or fish. These latter only seemed to hold a small amount of each. Moreover, there was no indication of quite how long the food had been standing there. The ratty half-bit of fish I decided to avoid, but was quite happy to eat the salad, kebab meat and falafel.

The next bank of dishes held main meals - long grain rice, and a variety of meats and vegetables in sauces. The meats were either lamb or chicken, either on the bone or off. The veg ranged from the commonplace (carrots and peas) to the slightly more exotic (okra for example, which proved to be one of the more stand-out dishes on offer).

Desserts that were available raised from a large chocolate cake and a large carrot cake, to a freezer of eight different flavours of ice cream, to traditional middle-eastern desserts. I went for the latter - small pieces of baklava and kataifi. Baklava I would imagine is familiar to most people, layered filo pasty filled with chopped walnuts and sweetened with honey. What I know as kataifi is a similar pastry that resembles a Shredded Wheat. It is a conglomeration of very fine strands of pastry, again flavoured with chopped nuts and almonds and sticky with honey. And these were, I have to say, very creditable.

It's a shame that I couldn't say as much about the warm dishes. Unless kept in sauce, the meat on offer was dry and oily. It was the first place where I actually felt bad the next day. Despite brushing my teeth twice and drinking a lot of water, all day I was plagued with rancid lamb-grease-flavoured belches and a vague hint of indigestion. To be honest, I'm just not sure how fresh the food on display was, and how long they had been kept on hot plates warming them through. Paul, who had concentrated on the salad and vegetables more than the meat was fine the next day. But I did not feel well at all.

But that was the next day. That evening we thought we would finish off the night with a drink. And so we walked back onto Wilmslow Road. Just a few doors down was another (presumably) Iraqi location - Al-Baghdady Café (122 Wilmslow Road, Rusholme, M14 5AH). Popping in, Paul and I were almost immediately made to feel very unwelcome. Seating ourselves at a table we were brusquely ordered to move because there were only two of us, and the table we had sat at had three chairs. The place was almost empty. There were only a couple of tables in the café that were occupied, generally by groups of young men smoking shisha. Clouds of scented smoke hung in the dim light. This surprised me, as the smoking ban applies as equally to shisha as it does to cigarettes (I later discovered that Al Baghdady Café has been fined by the courts for persistently flouting the smoking ban). We just fancied hot drinks to round off the day. Paul ordered an Arabic coffee which came hot, strong and sweet in a tiny cup. I had a pot of special mint tea made with cinnamon and cardamom that was spicily sweet and slightly soporific. Each of these cost in the area of £2.50-£3.00. However, as I said, we weren’t really made to feel welcome, so after having these we sloped off.

In both places the prices were reasonable. However, my overwhelming impression of Al Baghdady would have to be the surly welcome we received. And while we were made to feel welcome in Marmara, as I say, I am attributing my illness the next day to the food I ate there. So really I was disappointed to leave with a rather negative impression of Iraqi cuisine and hospitality.

Bangladesh - 09/03/09

Apparently, in Bangladesh coriander grows widely. It is thought to have specific health-giving properties: to protect against nervous complaints in general and against hepatitis A in particular. If Coriander the herb is both Bangladeshi and healthy, the same too must be said of Coriander the restaurant.

Coriander is some way south of the centre of Chorlton along Barlow Moor Road, opposite Southern Cemetary, though there is plenty of parking space outside. It seems an unfancy place with a white stucco frontage. The pink dining area inside is not the largest in the world, with space for maybe 30 covers. A couple of tables were occupied when we arrived at 7pm, though it soon got busier. There was also a steady stream of people arriving to collect take-away food. The owner was very attentive, asking how we had heard about his restaurant, and explaining about coriander when we asked him whether the use of the herb was a specific trait of Bangladeshi cookery.

Coriander certainly featured prominently in the menu. Nor was this the only attention the restaurant paid towards healthy eating. As the menu explains they try to use fresh vegetables rather than tinned, and cook in a way to preserve the nutrients in the ingredients and minimise grease and fat content. They cut out artificial colours. They have a section called ‘Balanced Meals’ where your meal will be prepared equally with meat and veg (and so rather than a plain chicken or lamb curry you will get a mix of chicken or lamb with lentils, chick peas, okra, cauliflower and green peas etc). They even pack their take-aways in plastic dishes rather than foil trays to prevent injury and enable microwaving the food.

While they did have Kingfisher lager on draught, we decided to be healthy and ordered instead a jug of sweet thick mango lassi. There was a wide range of appetizers to start with, from the usual poppadams and onion bhajis, to rather more exotic-sounding fare (I was a bit nervous about the poor Reshmi Kebab, described in the menu as "Pan-fried mashed meat mised with herbs and raped by egg"! I actually went for the Bengal Special Chicken Pakora for £2.80. These were two pastry packets stuffed with sliced meat. The menu said this was guinea-fowl, but I couldn’t tell you if that was accurate or not. Coriander, obviously, was used for seasoning, alongside tomato and turmeric . And true to the restaurant’s word, the pakora were not oily or greasy as they often are, but satisfyingly crisp to provide a contrast with the tender chicken / guinea fowl inside. Even better were two dipping sauces that were provided. One was fairly standard sweet red chilli sauce, not very hot at all. The other sauce was a sharp lime green, but it wasn’t the lime pickle I had been expecting. Instead it was actually a pickled coriander sauce, and it actually had more bite to it than the chilli. It was very unusual, but very tasty.

Main courses again proved to be very tasty. The usual curry-house dishes such as kormas, bhunas, baltis, biryanis and tandoori chicken make an appearance, but so do other more Bengali specialities such as dishes made with ponir, home-made Bengal cottage cheese. It was in this spirit that Paul ordered a beef dish, something you would never see on an Indian menu due to the cow’s sacred nature in the Hindu faith. Though tempted by the name of ‘Mother’s Meat Ball’, he eventually went up a generation for Grand Mother’s Beef (£7.50). This was tender chunks of beef, marinated overnight in lime and sweet peppers and slow-roasted according to the menu. It came in a mild red sauce thickened with use of lentils, which contributed to a rather nice mouth-feel.

As the menu had a section of fish and sea food I thought I would indulge. Fish From The Village (£8.20) caught my eye. This proved to be a fried fillet of a Bengali fresh-water fish called pangas. This was served in a red sauce of turmeric, lime, green chilli and garlic. And of course coriander. Chopped coriander, sliced red onion and lemon provided the garnish. It proved to be deceptively spicy and rich in its taste. We had ordered rice and naan with our meal. On the host’s suggestion we had gone for the special rice, cooked with onion and coriander. We just had plain naan though.

The bill came to around £14.00 each. We had found some points of difference with the curries we usually have – the use of beef, more use of fish, and of course the signiture coriander. And it even felt as though we had eaten healthily. Chatting with the manager he mentioned that once the recession ended he was thinking of expanding – possibly even into Withington, where I live. Now that’s an eventuality that I would be interested in seeing. I certainly have no complaints. And after all that coriander, certainly no nervous ones!

(Another restaurant of Bangladeshi origin that I can recommend is Khandoker in Parrswood. Again they have a healthy emphasis on mixing meat and vegetables.)

Ireland - 17/03/09

I read once that one third of the population of Manchester was of Irish descent. As someone called Liam whose Grandad Paddy hailed from Templeogue I can believe it. And they were all out for the craic on St Patrick's Night.

Leaving work at 5pm I only had a small slot within which to bag an Irish meal as I had to be elsewhere for a play rehearsal by 7.30. Thankfully there is an Irish pub a few doors down from the office in the Printworks entertainment complex, so I headed to Waxy O'Connor's. It was heaving. Partularly for a Tuesday. I've only ever seen pubs this busy at 5 on weekdays on Fridays in Summer, or when there's a world cup on. But it was already three deep at both bars in this cavernous pub.

I've commented before on my dislike of fake Irish pubs. I feel that pubs should evolve their own character naturally and be a reflection of the regular customers, rather than get a pre-packed identity in a box sent from St James's Gate. The actual pubs you find in Ireland are wonderful and quirky - they don't feel the need to stress their 'Irishness'. It is the same with pubs patronised by Irish expats in the UK. A good example would be The Albert in Withington. It's a microscopic place with gaelic football showing on the TV. On Friday night a tiny man sits in the corner in a bootlace tie and accompanies himself on tin whistle and Bon Tempi keyboard to The Fields Of Athenrae. It's just an old 19th century pub that has evolved naturally over time into an Irish bar.

Having said that, I don't really mind Waxy's. For starters, its decor is so over-the-top there is no way it could have come from a kit. Taking up a vast space in a former newspaper printworks it rambles over at least three floors, connected by winding wooden staircases that never end up where you expect them to. Two helix around themselves (and a tree!) to connect the main levels. Entering from within the Printworks Courtyard you are on the middle floor. There is a bar right in front of you (before it to your right is a door and another staircase; this leads up to a gallery with sofas and a pulpit looking over the rest of the pub. No one ever seems to know about it and so it is the quietest and comfiest location in the place). Down the main stairs is the main bar. The place has a definite 'ecclesiastical' theme, with rich wooden beams and bars, and narrow seats like choir stalls.

On St Patrick's Day both bars were heaving with people. So was a smaller auxiliary bar they had set up in the Printworks courtyard to sell Guinness. They generally have a range of Irish beers on, from Guinness to Harp to Caffreys. I got a Guinness (served for today in a plastic glass) and the menu. This revealed that today was actually a bad time to visit Waxy's. The menu at Waxy's is usually wonderful - a lot of choice, and quite palpably Irish. You can have Irish Stew, Rossmore Oysters by the half-dozen (£7.80), a crock of Irish mussels (£8.20), Donegal salmon, onion rings in a Caffrey's batter, steak with a Jameson's whisky glaze, or the all-day Irish breakfast (sausage, black pudding, white pudding, bacon, mushroom, potato cake, tomato, poached egg and soda bread - £7.00). Generally I just go for the 4-oz steak sandwich for £7.00. However on this night the menu had been stripped back to just six options, obviously just to deal with the number of customers they were expecting, most of which were actually just generic pub fayre.

I ordered a bowl of Irish Stew for £4.50 and sat out in the Printworks’ covered courtyard. A stage was being set up for a band to play later on that evening. The stew was not long in coming – clearly they had big pots ready to dole out. It was lean lumps of ham, alongside cubes of carrot and swede. Obviously it contained potato, but whole new potatoes rather than the cubes I would have expected. The broth was flavoured with thyme. It came with two slices of soda bread and a pot of butter. To be honest I would have preferred just normal bread. Also, the butter was straight out of the fridge, and trying to spread it caused the soda bread to shred and disintegrate.

To be fair, for £4.50 the stew wasn’t bad. I was just a bit upset that the usual menu was not on offer tonight – I was looking forward to finally trying the mussels. So this was not really a typical night to rate Waxy’s. Also, because I was there early, before the entertainment had set up I shouldn’t really compare it to the fabulously rocking St Patrick’s Night I had enjoyed the previous year in Siena of all places. Particularly not as Siena has only the one Irish pub, whereas Manchester has several – others I could mention are O’Sheas on Whitworth Street, Mulligans just off Deansgate, O’Neills on Wilmslow Road in East Didsbury, or Celtic Tiger on Mauldeth Road. And there are plenty of Irish social clubs around.

Ethiopia - 23/03/09

At Habesha they really know what's what. And what's wot...

This Ethiopian restaurant is a real find. Located on the corner of Sackville Street and Richmond Street in the Village (actually only one street over from Canal Street) you might miss Habesha as first glance. It is located on the first floor over Istanbul Grill (hmm, there's Turkey for me right there...). You actually have to enter Istanbul Grill by a separate door, from where a caged-off spiral staircase leads up to what could quite well be another world. Where the downstairs takeaway is white-tiled and brightly lit, Habesha is dark and atmospheric with artworks on its moody dark-red walls. Where the Grill is loud with passing trade, Habesha beats to the strains of modern African music - think the melodies Paul Simon caught on Graceland but with a reggae beat. And where Istanbul Grill's trade comes from the Village party animals, Habesha seems to have a clientele of regular customers for whom this restaurant is a valued part of their social scene, whether it is for a meal or just a chat over coffee. Entering at 6 o'clock the place was well over half-full. Oddly, as Paul and I ate our meal the place emptied out - the reverse of pretty much every restaurant we've tried so far this year which have tended to fill up as the evening wore on.

The menu is not the most extensive in the world, with only ten Ethiopean dishes, and a couple of pizzas listed. We were brought cold bottles of beer as we perused. Ethiopian beer naturally. Going by the name of St George, this beer came in a bottle with a delightful yellow label written in Amharic depicting the saint despatching the dragon. The brew inside was was lovely honey colour - and rather honey-flavoured as well. It was certainly on the sweet side and really rather lovely. It was quite shocking to discover that this beer, imported all the way from the horn of Africa, sold in a restaurant, was only £2.00. Based on my experience of prices in other restaurants this year I would have expected the cost to be double that.

Most of the food on offer sounded appetising. I quickly ruled out gored gored as it mentioned in the menu that this was raw cubes of beef. At least the neighbouring kitfo offered the choice of minced beef either raw, rare, or medium. I was tempted by tibs. In particular, the wonderfully named Derek Tibs - I think he used to teach me at school! But this was described as dry-cooked lamb, and I felt the urge for something saucy.

In the end I went for doro wot. Doro simply means 'chicken'. Wot is the characteristic main dish of Ethiopia, a thick spicy stew. In the form it came here it proved to be a rich dark sauce tasting of onion and capsicum. This covered a chicken thigh and - strangely - a hard boiled egg. It was deceptively hot - my first comment to Paul was "Well, it looks like curry, but it's quite mild actually..." It was then that the first burst of spice hit the back of my mouth... The only cutlery provided was a spoon. This is used to transfer the food across onto a piece of injera. You then use the injera to roll or scoop the wot into an edible form. Injera is an Ethiopian flatbread - though bread is hardly the word. It was a half-metre diameter pancake-like affair, resembling an unrisen crumpet, or the foam from within a sofa. This had a spongey texture and a slightly sour almost lemony taste.

More injera featured in Paul's dish, but in a different form. He had chosen yebeg alicha fitfit. This was a pile of shredded injera, mixed with pieces of lamb, sliced green chili peppers and browned onions. This had a much more delicate taste than the wot (unless you were taken by surprise by a hidden bit of chili), with the lamb having been cooked in a mix of spices.

To be honest, there wasn't that much meat in the meals, but what you missed in terms of protein you more than made up for in carbs, as injera was used to bulk out the dishes. In fact we were actually served three extra injera, rolled up in a basket like hot towels, which we didn't even touch as what we had proved to be filling enough. I would also say that, despite not tasting particularly oily, I suspect that my wot, made using 'special Ethiopian butter' could have been quite high in fat. But even bearing that in mind, the meals were very good value - £5.90 for my wot, and £5.50 for the fitfit. This meant that we had enjoyed a meal for two with beer for £15.90 in total (excluding tip), which has to be one of the better bargains I have encountered on my food quest so far.

With its quirky menu, high quality, filling food and surprisingly low prices, Habesha is definitely on my list of places to revisit.

30/03/09 - Egypt

Egypt has never really been particularly noted for its food. I once heard a theory that in the Arabic lands around the Mediterranean the best food will be found at the extremities, in Lebanon and Morocco, with the quality getting worse as you near the mid-point of the crescent. Which is pretty much where Egypt is located. Now, personally I did not have a problem with the cuisine when I visited Egypt for a fortnight, where food I ate ranged from fish from Lake Nasser or the Red Sea, Cairene kebabs and koshary, Nubian cuisine in Aswan or chicken and beans cooked on a small stove as I drifted down the Nile on a felucca.

But because of this reputation I was pretty sure that I would not be able to find an Egyptian restaurant in Manchester. And then one opened up a street away from my house!

So after our enjoyment of Ethiopian cuisine the week before, it seemed only appropriate that Paul and I continued our intrepid exploration north up the Nile valley...

Now, to be honest, the menu at Horus is not dramatically Egyptian. Its sign declares it to be a ‘Mediterranean restaurant’. Food on offer runs the entire gamut from kebabs to burgers, panini to pizzas to jacket potatoes. And in conversation I discovered that the proprieteress, Huda, hails from Beirut. But the exterior is decorated with the Eye of Horus and images of Egyptian gods – Anubis, Thoth and Sobek as well as the eponymous falcon-headed hero. Inside the walls are hung with papyrus, illustrated with pharoahs, hieroglyphs, and the Meidum geese. And there are one or two distinctly Egyptian touches on the menu.

With Horus being a new arrival, the place is still perfectly pristine and shiny inside. This place is a cut above the usual side-street kebab house. For a start it keeps restaurant hours (11am-11pm) rather than catering for the late night post-pub-and-club crowd. (Which is actually a bit of a shame as Withington is bereft of a good late night kebabery, and it is something I have been definitely missing since I moved from Rusholme). Both Paul and I ordered chicken kebabs (£3.80 each), but we fancied something while we waited, and dips were just what the doctor ordered. Huda cautioned against anything too weighty, and so we were guided by her suggestions. The dish I was determined to order was Foul Medamas, which I had enjoyed in Egypt and knew as an authentically Egyptian dish. This was a plate of mashed kidney beans in a tomato-ey sauce, served warm. Think a less spicy chilli sin carne without the peppers. As someone who is not generally a big lover of beans, it says something that I not only insisted we ordered this, but also took real enjoyment in scoffing more than my share. To compliment it we ordered Baba Ghannouj, a cold smoky-tasting paste of aubergine, tahina and garlic. Each cost £2.00, and were brought to our table with big pieces of Lebanese flatbread to dip and scoop with. We had drinks at the same time. Paul had mint tea (from a teabag, not a pot, and more powerfully minty than he was expecting). I had noticed hibiscus on the menu. I had enjoyed this cooling pink cordial in Egypt, but it turned out they were out. In its place I ordered a glass of mango and guava juice; this turned out to just be a can of fizzy Rubicon pop.

The kebabs were well-presented. Chunks of grilled chicken on more Lebanese bread, alongside salad. The salad was not the most inspiring – lettuce and onion. And I’m not sure how authentically Egyptian (or even Mediterranean) the chicken was – is was red with tikka spices which had been dry-rubbed into the meat prior to cooking. Don’t get me wrong, the tikka chicken was nice, not just what I expected. Alongside we were served two saucers, one of what I originally thought was yogurt but proved to be mayonnaise (!), and another of chilli sauce. At first glance it looked and smelled like plain tomato ketchup mixed with dried chilli, but it did have a bit more fire to it than we at first suspected.

Huda came over to check how we were getting on. Paul found himself getting full. She promptly reappeared with a take-away tray so that he could take the remainder of his kebab away with him as a doggy-bag. She told us of the plans she has for Horus. The decoration is not complete yet. She wants to organise Arabic music nights on Fridays. And she plans to extend the menu. I asked whether she would be planning to add koshary. Eyes gleaming, she said that yes she would, she makes very good koshary. In the meantime, next time she was making it for herself she would let me know and I could come along and share it with her! It was this sort of enthusiasm and welcome that makes me think that Horus could be a very good new addition to Withington!

Argentina - 08/04/09

When I started my Around the World in 80 Meals challenge, one of the restaurants I was most looking forward to visiting was Gaucho. And I have to say, that having now eaten there, I am not disappointed!

Gaucho is, as you might expect, an Argentinian restaurant. But whereas, say, the Brazilian restaurant Tropeiro plays up its Brazilian heritage with frescos, objets d’art and stylized uniforms for the wait staff, Gaucho keeps the Argentinian influence to its menu and wine list alone. Visually, the restaurant is very slick and stunning in monochrome colours. Chandeliers hang from high over head, while the walls are pristine white – even the organ pipes in one of the mezzanine areas! Walls and chairs are covered in black-and-white cowhide print. Quite frankly it looks the sort of place where you would find footballers and their too-thin girlfriends dining at the next table.

I had known the prices here were on the high side, so we were saving it for a special occasion. The occasion was that a friend was back up from London for Easter. Ed knows his steak – he was the person who sent me off to Florence in search of the perfect bistecca fiorentina. And in particular he has consistently rated the beef he enjoyed in Argentina the best in the world. So as he had been with us at the genesis of our quest in St Petersburg he was the perfect excuse for Paul and me to tick off Argentina. Another school-friend, Gary, made the party four.

Reservations would be advisable on a weekend night, but we were escorted to a table straight away by the manager. Our waitress brought menus and some bread rolls with chimichurri (a sweet oil, vinegar, garlic and chilli marinade) to dip. The menu is gloriously South American – starters range from empanadas to ceviches, and the mains are predominantly fare for carnivores, with Argentinian beef and Patagonian lamb. The waitress reappeared with a carving board to demonstrate the steaks on offer – rump, sirloin, rib-eye and fillet – and the sizes – 225g, 300g, or 400g. I ordered rump steak, and downgraded myself from 400 to 300g with the decision to get a couple of empanadas. I also ordered a bowl of chips to accompany it. Gary likewise ordered rump steak and chips. Ed ordered empanadas, a salad, and the fillet steak (at £28.00 this was almost double the cost of Gary and my rump steaks (£15.50). Paul went for braised Patagonian lamb shank (£18.25).

Well satisfied with my choice of red meat, there was one more thing I wanted – red wine. Gaucho has an extensive wine list (more than 150 different vintages), with certain bottles costing over £100! Obviously, that was a bit outside our budget, but a nice bottle of malbec for £26.50 was acceptable to our wallets. We went for Michel Torrino ‘Dom David’ from Salta. In fact Ed and I got through three bottles, though we only drank one. Because when the wine waiter brought across a bottle and uncorked it, he sniffed it, then grimaced. Corked. So he went a brought a second bottle. Opening and sniffing this he announced that this bottle was corked too. It was only with the third bottle that he was content to actually let us taste the wine! And thank God he did, because the wine was a lovely full-bodied number, with a full-on plummy nose and a great peppery aftertaste. (One nice touch was that when we paid we were given a card detailing which wine we had been drinking, in case we wanted to order some from their wine cellar for our own personal consumption.

But back to the steak. My rump came served simply on a plate. No garnish, no sauce, just a confident thick chunk of meat. Cutting revealed a red heart, oozing with juice. Frankly, covering such a wonderful steak with sauce would have been a crime! The bowl of chips I ordered proved to be crisp and lightly salted, and a perfect accompaniment. My empanadas were served at the same time at my request, two pastries filled with dry finely-ground beef mince. And while they were very nice, I do have a certain amount of regret that I ordered them rather than just order a bigger steak!

I have to say that Paul’s lamb looked really good too, encrusted with lentil and served on a bed of mash with a malbec jus. But really the final word should go to Ed, that conoisseur of all things carnivorous. His opinion? "That was the best steak I’ve eaten for a long time". Since, say he was in Argentina three years ago? Just a contented smile.

Gaucho is not cheap. I spent £40.00 excluding tip; Ed spent yet more. While our bottle of wine was really nice, it did cost £26.50, which must be twice (or more) what you could expect to pay for it off the shelf (indeed, it retails at £12.60 in Gaucho’s own ‘wine boutique’). Personally I think a 100% mark-up is a bit rich. Plus, empanadas are listed in the menu at £4.50, but you have to buy a minimum of two, so the actual cost is £9.00. And really it is just this expensiveness that stops Gaucho getting a five-star rating. However, the food and wine is marvellous, and the atmosphere is very swish and stylish. For a special occasion this must be one of the restaurants in Manchester to consider making a reservation at.

Denmark - 14/04/09

Manchester took legendary Danish goalkeeper Peter Schmeichel (still one of only a handful of players to have turned out for both United and City) to its heart. In much the same way it has embraced the KroBar chain of Danish hostelries.

At first glance you might think that ’KroBar’ is just a bad pun for the name of a bar (as with Baa Bar, Sand Bar, or Bar Code). However kro in Danish means ‘inn’, so it is a double edged name. From its original location opposite the University of Manchester Student’s Union on Oxford Road it has expanded up to Kro2 by the BBC building, and Kro Piccadilly in the centre of town, and a catering arm. What I didn’t know until this visit was that it had opened up two new premises - a satellite branch out in Heaton Moor (110 Heaton Moor Road, Stockport), and the Old Abbey Inn in ‘Manchester Science Park’ (61 Pencroft Way, M15 6AY). Certainly the first three, all of which I pass on my way home from work, have outside seating, so it seemed appropriate to walk from one to the next on a sunny Easter evening.

Paul and I started off at Kro Piccadilly (1 Piccadilly Gardens, M1 1RG). This is a glass fronted bar located by the Piccadilly Bus Station. It is often busy with an after-work office-drinks crowd, particularly on a Friday. On weekend evenings they often have a DJ as well spinning chilled out tracks. All the bars in the chain have an eclectic mix of drinks. Draught lagers and real ales are listed alongside bottled beers from around the world. There are wines and spirits. And on ‘Ruby Tuesdays’ they offer cocktails for £2.50. Though frankly I think that during the day just as many are lured in by their Coffee and Cake for £2.50 deal. For they stock gooey chocolate cakes alongside Danish pastries and the highly recommended carrot cake. Oddly enough, they only had one Danish beer on tap on this visit, Tuborg. We enjoyed a pint sat outside watching the crowds crossing Piccadilly Gardens before it was time to move on.

Kro2 on Oxford Road, sandwiched between the BBC buildings and the flyover of the Mancunian Way, won an award for Bar of the Year in its first year of operation (2002). Like the Piccadilly version, it is a glass-fronted building, but with piping and ductwork snaking up high above. There are tables out front and on a patio area to one side (with heaters later on in the year). This outdoor seating is very popular, despite the steady trundle of buses and traffic down one side. Examining the menu you will find a good selection of food. They also have a section devoted to Danish dishes, from ‘Danwiches’ (open sandwiches) to herrings and meatballs. Not sure what to pick to try the authentic taste of Denmark? Well, helpfully they have a couple of platters listed for £7.95 – the Kro fish platter and the Danish dinner platter. They also offer a full ‘Danish Experience’ set dinner, which requires up to 90 minutes to prepare. So we just opted for one of each platter to fashion our own påskefrokost (Easter lunch).

Our dinners were served on segmented platters. The Danish meal comprised frikadeller meatballs, medister sausage, grilled pork, thin-sliced beef, potato salad, pickled red cabbage and breaded plaice. The plaice also appeared on the fish platter, along with Royal Greenland prawns, smoked salmon, gravadlax, cold rolled herrings, mayonnaise, and a red onion and caper accompaniment. We also got slices of bread from a soft white loaf, and some dense dark rye bread. Even the pats of butter were Danish Lurpak.

The food was uniformly good – even down to the strong chewy rye bread. The frikadeller meatballs were grilled pork-intensive balls of meat. The medister sausages were at first taste quite similar, but the use of bacon in their making gave them an added smoky/salty flavour. The beef came very thinly sliced as a sort of pastrami. It was topped with slices tomato and also of a stange slightly gelatinous pale yellow vegetable. They were about the same size as slices of apple, but with a softer texture, and they certainly kept us guessing as to what they actually were. Beneath the pickle there was a cucumber-y taste. And upon asking the waiter we found out that this was not a bad guess – it was asier, pickled marrow. Denmark is famous for its pigs, and the thick slices of pork were grilled and edged with crackling. I didn’t much care for the potato salad, not being a fan of it at the best of times. Finally the breaded plaice came warm, topped with lemon and dill and a disturbingly yellow sauce which proved to be remoulade, a mustard-y tartare sauce type affair.

On the fish platter we had the Greenland prawns (though from their vivid tiger stripings they more resembled crayfish tails). Salmon came in two forms – plain smoked salmon, and gravad laks (raw salmon cured in salt, sugar and dill). This latter came with a sweet sauce of mustard and dill. Finally, the herrings, served on rocket, were also surprisingly sweet. Apparently the chef has a variety of different ways of serving herrings, and today he had prepared ‘sweet-and-sour’ herrings marinated with juniper berries. While the individual portions were not massive (say one slice of sausage each, or one herring), they succeeded in giving a good overview of Danish cuisine in a tasty and well-presented manner.

We wandered down from there to the original KroBar (325 Oxford Road, M13 3PG) for a final pint of Tuborg (though they also had Carlsberg on draught here). Contrary to the glassy décor of Piccadilly and 2, the original KroBar is in a tall Grade-2 listed building opposite the student’s union and situated near the Catholic Holy Name Church (the one made famous in The Smiths’ ‘Vicar In A Tutu’ fact fans). There are again seats outside, and a patio area located out back, but for me the comfiest area is upstairs where there are a number of large couches for casual chatting. They serve food here too – and I was interested to note that the platters that cost £7.95 in Kro2 and Kro Piccadilly only cost £7.50 here…

I have to say, I do like the various Kros (though I did not even know that they had a branch in Heaton Moor). I find that at busy times (Friday and Saturday evenings say) it can take a while to get served. Also, at those times the toilets in Kro2 and Piccadilly are pretty much always a state. However, for a casual drink, for the start of a night out, and most certainly for the food, I can certainly recommend these three great Danes.

Tibet - 17/04/09

When I mentioned at work that I would be going out for a Tibetan meal everyone wanted to know where on earth I had managed to find Tibetan food in Manchester. And when I replied "Chorlton" they shrugged and said "Oh yeah, that figures".

Chorlton has improved a lot since I used to travel down Wilbraham Road on the bus to school. Then it was a bit of a groggy area. Now it has become a trendy, folky, bohemian suburb, a bit more of a rough-around-the-edges Didsbury, with bars for every different subculture. Apparently there are no less than four different Buddhist centres in Chorlton. And there was once famously a lovely bit of non-confrontational I’m-okay-you’re-okay graffiti in Chorlton reading "C’mon – free Tibet" (even Chorlton graffiti is grammatically correct in terms of punctuation). So where better to go for Tibetan food?

The Bar is not a themed Tibetan restaurant. It is just what it says, one of a number of drinking establishments along Wilbraham Road. There are three bars with wooden porches next to each other opposite Morrisons supermarket. The Bar is the easternmost of them. And on a previous visit I had noticed a chalkboard announcing that they hosted ‘Sonam’s Tibetan Fridays’, when Tibetan dishes would be added to their menu. When Paul and I arrived the place was already busy – cool kids congregated outside in the evening sun, drinkers queued at the bar, and more than a few people inside were eating. And though the man before me at the bar was ordering burgers, the Tibetan dishes seemed to be quite popular. There are only three dishes on the Tibetan menu, priced at £6.00 each – Shasha (sesame chicken), Shatak (capsicum beef), and Shokhog (fried potato and pak choi). At first we did think of ordering one of each to share. However, looking at other peoples’ plates, the dishes seemed to be of a fairly substantial size, so we just went for one each, Paul for the shokhog, and me for the shatak. We were informed that there would be a 45 minute wait. That was quite alright. The menu did point out that food was freshly made so "the chef appreciates your patience", and it was understandable given the crowds. Plus, we had managed to find a table in a corner with some armchairs, so we were happy to get a drink and wait. And no, there were no Tibetan beers on offer. But there was a range of Belgian beers and also three real ales on tap. Paul ordered a Cumberland Ale (3.5%), and I went for a Black Bee (4%), a honey porter of a very very dark plum hue with the honey giving it just a little bit of sweetness.

As it turned out, we did not have to wait the full 45 minutes before our meals were delivered. My shatak was strips of beef fried up with peppers, onions and one or two rogue mushrooms. The meat was good quality and had a little bit of chilli heat to hit the back of an unwary throat. To be honest, it was not dramatically different from something I could have expected to be served in a Chinese or Indian restaurant – perhaps not surprisingly considering Tibet’s geographical location. Paul’s shokhog were slices of pan-fried potato with pak choi (Chinese leaf) with a subtler overall taste. Both were accompanied by egg fried rice and Tibetan bread. This proved to be a yellow knot of dense spongy dough, unrisen. To eat one tore off strips. A chilli and garlic paste topped it. It was certainly an unusual addition to the meal!

Both dishes were good. From the couple of tastes I had I think I preferred Paul’s potato dish. But one has to wonder about a beef dish and a potato dish being equally priced at £6.00 each. My instinctive thought was that the shokhog was over-priced. Paul pointed out that the shatak may equally well have been underpriced. After all, in a curry house one would probably be paying around £6.00 for a meat main course, with extra for rice and a bread something (naan, paratha, chapatti etc).

So: The Bar. A lively atmosphere, a good range of interesting drinks, and some unusual Tibetan food. All in all, very Chorlton.