Real Radio Brings Blue to Manchester's Hard Rock Cafe: Guest Blogger Parties Like it's 2002

Anyone who reads all this nonsense on a regular basis will have a fairly shrewd idea of my age: born in the 70s, a child in the 80s, a leggings-wearing moody teenager in the 90s...it's fairly easy to chart my progress through life purely from the scattered references to unwise clothing choices and generally indie-based musical proclivities. By the time we entered the new millennium, I was already over a hundred years old, and fit for nothing but a little light gardening: that's why, when pretty popsters Blue arrived at Manchester's Hard Rock Cafe last Wednesday for an intimate concert hosted by Real Radio, I knew the very person to wield the metaphorical pen and tell us all about it. You've met her before: please welcome back the lovely Olivia, who has - I think - just about calmed down now from Wednesday's excitement...

At 28, I’m no spring chicken. So, when I was offered the chance to go and see a band that would make me feel 10 years younger I OBViously jumped at the chance *throws hands in the air at the prospect of being an 18 year old student again, “woop, woop, can I get a rewind?”*

Coming from a diverse music background and being brought up to dance and play a little guitar and piano, it’s not surprising that I love a broad range of music. One of the best things about Hard Rock is that, believe it or not, they do showcase a number of different styles of music. Finally, a place where there’s something for everyone *hurrah*. Rock, Indie and Pop are just a few of the things I’ve heard here recently, and for that reason Real Radio couldn’t have picked a better venue to hold one of a number of small, intimate and exclusive gigs...

It’s a Wednesday night, I’m tired and I’ve come straight from a day's worth of lectures. How on earth was I going to step into my 18 year old youthful glamorous self? Well, thanks to Hard Rock Manchester, I have to admit that it wasn’t that hard. Ok, maybe I wasn’t that glamorous on a school night but I definitely felt youthful! *cue rendition of ‘Teenage Kicks’*

As I arrived and stood in the queue with all the excited Real Radio competition winners, most of whom were old faithful fans of the band, I felt a buzz in the air that proved that there really is an inner teenager in all of us *gets out pen and paper, starts to write “Olivia loves...” (I’ll let you fill in as appropriate)*

Blue performed a number of their hits, including All Rise, Fly By II, Back in My Life, U Make Me Wanna and One Love. They also treated the audience to two of the songs from their new album, Roulette: Break my Heart and their new single Hurt Lovers *pretends at least one of these was performed and sung directly at me* #teenagedreams. The boys proved that they’ve definitely not lost it and why they still deserve to be in the music industry, they’ve still got the moves and they can sing live (an unusual skill these days).

After a few G&Ts during the show I, of course, couldn’t leave this place without trying a few cocktails while we waited for our transport home (any excuse). The lovely talented bartender Nathan (mentioned in previous posts as the creator of the lovely Gini Hendricks cocktail) looked after us and proved that the cocktails at Hard Rock are ever consistent in their production and taste.

Hard Rock Manchester hosts a number of live events, such as the world famous Battle of the Bands competition, Friday Night Live and a number of gigs where they hold performances from many different bands (The Fun Lovin’ Criminals being just one example) and a number of exclusive concerts in conjunction with Real Radio. As the venue is small and intimate, but holds enough people to create a great atmosphere, it is perfect for watching live bands as it really feels like you’re up close and personal. As even some of the smaller music venues in Manchester find it hard to achieve this, I’ll definitely be returning to watch some live acts here in the future.

- Manchester's Hard Rock Cafe can be found at Exchange Square, Manchester M4 2BS; tel. 0161 831 6700.

Fiesta del Fuego: Chilli-Based Fun Hits Manchester's Northern Quarter this Bank Holiday Weekend

By and large, Mr Liz is a man of simple but definite tastes (except in matters of wife choice, obviously, where he is a man of sophisticated but definite tastes). He likes beer, for example, and he likes just butter on his toast, nothing fancy, and when I abandon him for an evening he likes nothing more than for me to defrost a mystery item (often a stew, or similar) from the freezer and leave him to eat it poured over chip-shop chips. There is little deviation from this pleasant but immovable Man Routine; indeed, I find the predictable nature of his requests enjoyably reassuring. And when it comes to food, when Mr Liz is allowed to choose he always asks me to make the same thing: chilli.

It is hardly surprising, then, that our kitchen calendar has a huge red ring metaphorically crayoned around the date of Saturday 25th May, with the words "Chilli Festival" carefully marked in excitable boy writing. For next weekend sees the arrival of Manchester's inaugural Fiesta del Fuego in the Northern Quarter, a celebration of all things chilli which will see High Street transformed into our own, homegrown version of a Mexican street festival (I know it's homegrown, as I have to append the very Mancunian words "outside the Fish Market" to the location descriptor). There will be stalls selling chilli products, a Mariachi band, and a piñata pit which promises to let a papier-mache chilli take the heat rather than the more traditional long-suffering donkey - but the real attraction looks to be the Chilli Smackdown: six familiar NQ faces competing to cook the best chilli and become "Fuego Champions". The full line-up has now been confirmed, and features Home Sweet Home, Kosmonaut, Liquor & Burn, Pancho’s Burrito, Kahlúa Coffee House and Soup Kitchen; entry to the event is free, but for £10 you can be a chilli judge and taste all the chillies as well as snaffling a cocktail from Kahlúa Coffee House - your last chance to try one before they disappear again as swiftly as they came.

The event runs from 12 noon, and full details can be found here. Still, as Mr Liz has his chilli-judging place already confirmed, he is happy to proclaim himself the real "Fuego Champion" in all of this...

New Venetian Restaurant for Didsbury: Local Girl Fears Cibo will be her UNDOING

Now, let me start by saying that I am not necessarily anti-chain. Indeed, there are a few chain bars and restaurants I have a fairly high regard for: I rather like Carluccio's, for example, as well as Gusto and All Bar One, because they are reliable, and sell things that I like to eat and drink, and have consistent levels of service regardless of what time you pitch up, and how many of you there might be. Still, some chains exemplify all that is bad, and bland, and soulless about the concept of a load of identikit venues scattered across the country, all selling whatever the head office (probably in London) tells them to - and for that reason, I can't imagine that too many people in Didsbury would have mourned the demise of the Warburton Street branch of La Tasca, no doubt feeling that if they wanted tapas, it would make a lot more sense to go the independent - and much nicer - Casa Tapas just across the road.

With La Tasca safely gone, the way was clear for something far more interesting to move in. The promise of a new Venetian-inspired restaurant called Cibo has had the locals (including me) getting hungrily excited for the last couple of months, and now it's finally open I can confirm that it does pretty much live up to the hype. The premise is simple: rustic cuisine, drawing upon a range of Italian regions but mostly from the North of the country, and based on the earth-shattering idea that if you cook simple dishes from fresh, high quality ingredients then people will very probably want to come and eat it. And - surprise surprise - at 8pm on a Friday night the place was absolutely packed with contented people, happily pretending they were in more Mediterranean climes rather than overlooking a very grey Didsbury carpark.

Cibo offers a selection of cicchetti - small, Venetian snacks - at £2 each or six for a tenner, or a longer menu of slightly larger dishes. We chose to eat from the latter, which is not divided by starter and main, but by such tempting sub-headings as "Meat", "Fish" and "Pasta"; you can ask to stagger the arrival of your dishes or, as we did, have them all arrive together as one big greedy feast. Some beautiful fat olives in a shot glass and some fresh bread and olive oil arrived as we were pondering our choices; the bread was delicious, carrying the light scent of rosemary and studded with what looked like red pepper - although when I asked our waiter, he said he didn't know what it was. The food arrived swiftly and was mostly excellent - unlike the quality of the photographs you see below. I am uncomfortable photographing my food in restaurants at the best of times, and as we were quite closely placed to the table next to us, I'm afraid I withered a little under their scathing looks and just snatched a couple of quick pictures.

Both of Mr Liz's choices were superb, particularly the fillet steak served sliced on a bed of rocket, Parmesan and aged balsamic vinegar. He also enjoyed the richly fragrant slow braised ox cheek with black peppercorns, and left me some on the dish to try - our waiter did try to take this away though, and had to be asked to bring it back so I could actually verify Mr Liz's high opinion (which did turn out to be entirely correct). I went for two dishes from the pasta section - a superlative lobster ravioli served in a rich cream, tomato and prawn sauce, and some very good fluffy gnocci with a venison ragu - and we shared some Focaccia filled with Mortadella and Caciocavello (the poshest, most exciting cheese and ham toastie you will ever have). We also ordered some entirely unnecessary but very good sides - a giant pile of zucchini fritti for me (in size rather reminiscent of the giant alien from the eponymous films - you can just see one of his tendrils in the photo, reaching across the lobster ravioli), and some lovely rosemary roast potatoes for Mr Liz.

We enjoyed it all - this size of portion, somewhere between a tapas and a proper main, is just right for me, as I'm too greedy for tapas but like the idea of being able to order several different dishes to share. We made room for pudding and were glad we did - Mr Liz's Cannoli Siccilian was filled with sweet ricotta and nicely boozy cherries (although was mysteriously singular, when even my low levels of proficiency in Italian suggest it should have been plural), and my Passion Fruit Pannacotta slipped down a treat. We washed the whole lot down with an excellent Dolcette d'Alba chosen from a suitably Italian list, and which our very charming waiter was genuinely excited that we had chosen *dons slightly fraudulent knowledgeable wine face*

Was it perfect? No - the service is still a little random, with the table next to us receiving the wrong order, the waiter spilling our wine and not clearing it up, someone else asking us if we needed cutlery after we'd eaten, as well as the amazing disappearing ox cheeks. These are all issues that can be ironed out however; the point is, Cibo is already packed to the rafters with people appreciating Martin Cordwell's approach to cooking and eating - he was at Stock for five years, and his talent and experience is more than evident here. We were invited to dine by Manchester Confidential and were not asked to pay for our meal, but as this is effectively our new local restaurant I've already got a horrible feeling I'll be sporting a generous Venetian food tummy within a matter of weeks...

-Cibo is at 12 Warburton Street, Disbury.

3 Twenty One, Deansgate: New Manchester Smokehouse Serves Great Steaks and Allows ECCLES CAKES for Starters

Let me start with an apology, directed at anyone who follows more than a handful of Manchester food bloggers on Twitter. Perhaps, like I am wont to do, you were watching some nonsense on television last night, and desired to find out what the Twittersphere thought of it; perhaps, your other half was watching the football, and you turned to Twitter in search of witty, pithy conversation to see you through the darkness of the second half. Sadly, what you actually got was a timeline cluttered with pictures of people who eat out more than is good for them, eating more than was good for them, and posting a series of near-identical dinner photos. For last night was the soft launch of new smokehouse restaurant 3 Twenty One, and the bloggers were out in force - mostly eating steak and ribs, but more of that later.

First things first: location. 3 Twenty One is located above the Deansgate pub, next to the Hilton tower. You have to walk through the pub and up the stairs to get to the restaurant - an interesting experience when half of Manchester is downstairs watching the FA Cup Final, but once I'd clambered across the laps of one or two gentlemen (who to their credit, never once took their eyes off the game) and made it up the properly-pub-style-carpeted stairs, the restaurant couldn't have been more of a contrast. This is a lovely modern open space, flooded with light and with a dinky terrace out the back that will be irresistible once summer returns - in fact, I can already envisage leaving Mr Liz in the Man Creche downstairs whilst I pop up to the terrace for a cocktail or two.

Foodwise, the menu is generally what you would expect from a smokehouse, with pate, ribs and chicken wings among the starters and a range of steaks, fish and chops for mains. The most interesting items on the menu for me were the Sharing Boxes - five different selections priced at £15, with the standout option being The Mancunian Way. The thought of ordering Manchester in a box was too much to resist, so I donned my flat cap and enjoyed a culinary tour around my adopted city in the form of a Manchester Egg, an artisan steak pie, an Eccles cake paired with Lancashire cheese and vimto, plum and red onion chutney, Manchester Caviar (aka a fine pea and mint puree) and a selection of breads. Now whilst slightly barking (Eccles cake for a starter?), each component was very well executed, particularly the pie - although the butter-rich pastry was so thick that my attempts to cut through the crust sent a chunk hurtling dangerously close to food legend Neil Sowerby's head. There was too much bread (and some of it was a little dry), but otherwise we liked this very much, and I can already envisage this forming the cornerstone of many a happy lunch date.

Then on to mains. The menu does include burgers, pizzas and salads, but we both wanted to try the steak, aged for a minumum of 35 days and available in a variety of cuts - I chose the 8oz Sirloin at £18.95 whilst Mr Liz went for the cheaper 10oz Rump. The price includes your choice of side from a pretty wide range - a refreshing change from restaurants who assume you will always want chips with your steak, although Mr Liz did of course want chips with his steak and went for the twice-cooked variety. Meanwhile, I maintained my reputation for healthy mind, healthy body (temple etc etc) by having the chargrilled vegetables - these were lovely, a really hefty portion of peppers, aubergine and sweet potato, and went perfectly with a steak that was pinkly rare on the inside and striped with chargrilled caramelly goodness on the outside. It's possible I may have dented my reputation for healthy mind, healthy body (temple etc etc) by ordering blue cheese sauce as an extra and drenching my plate with it, but I'm pretty sure selecting veg as a side still overrides any such minor indiscretions.

It's also possible that I may have managed to force down a smidge of dessert - just in the interests of a full and thorough review, of course. My chocolate Oreo mud pie with white chocolate ice cream was every bit as dense and dark and squidgy as it sounds, while Mr Liz's apple and toffee crumble pie was perky and fresh but might just have been nicer served warm.
For an opening night, service was remarkably smooth - there seems to be a good team in place here, both in the kitchen and front of house. Our one regret is that we didn't try the cocktails - sitting here looking at last night's timeline extolling the virtues of their Mojitos, Juleps and - gasp - Chilli & Watermelon Collinses makes me feel I missed a trick here. Still - always good to have a reason to go back...

- 3 Twenty One is at 321 Deansgate, Manchester M3 4LQ; tel. 0161 839 5215. We were invited as guests as the restaurant and were not asked to pay for our meal - but I'll pay next time, as I'm not a fast runner and remember there are lots of drinkers downstairs to hurdle on the way out.

Dog Bowl, Manchester - local girl enjoys cocktails whilst her friends throw their balls about

Now, whilst I like to think I do have SOME talents, it may come as no surprise that the sporting world is not one in which I have ever really excelled. At school I was quite good at netball, but as this was purely on the strength of me being taller than all the other girls I'm not sure this really counts - I was passable at the high jump for the very same reason. I do not in fact have a competitive bone in my body; I have to leave the room if people playing a board game start becoming a little aggressive, and can't even watch quiz shows on television - I had to follow Manchester's recent triumph on University Challenge via Twitter, occasionally posting the plaintive request "are they still winning?" to a largely very helpful timeline.

So when the people behind Black Dog Ballroom announced that they were opening the cunningly-titled Dog Bowl on Whitworth Street West, promising Black Dog bar brilliance combined with five ten-pin bowling lanes, my initial thought was something along the lines of "oh - has Cocotoo's gone? That's a shame." I have been bowling once before, but found that it broke my fingernails, and that I didn't like putting my feet in those funny shoes, and - most tellingly - I was poor at it. Where I lack talent I often lack enthusiasm - thus the review you see below of the actual bowling bit has been contributed by Victoria, a more competitively-minded friend. I'll be back in a minute, with some dinner...*screen goes wavey, voice over fades in*

Never let it be said that I am unaware of my faults. Indeed, as soon as Liz invited me to attend the review of Dogbowl, I knew why. I don’t have a competitive streak as such; it’s more of competitive CORE.

When we arrived at the bowling desk, full of anticipation and giddy from the huge cocktails we had just devoured, the first thing I noticed was a small black and yellow flyer. A postcard sized challenge! “Three strikes in a row and a game for you and three friends FREE!” I could not stop myself envisioning the moment I achieved ultimate bowling glory (I believe this feat is called ‘a turkey’ by the professionals). I could just imagine the whole of Dogbowl rising to their feet in rapturous applause of my bowling prowess. Alas, it didn’t quite work out that way, but I had a marvellous time anyway and here’s why.

Those of you who have visited the big, gaudy bowling chains will know that the most trying part of the night is setting up the electronic scorer; at Dogbowl the delightful staff do all that for you. The lane area is spacious and yet you are never far from the ball release machine. The balls themselves are giant pool balls decorated in spots and stripes and as you would expect the balls come in a variety of different weights, so there will be a weight to suit you. As a dainty, girly type I mostly threw the ‘6’ ball which was the lightest ball there, but sufficient enough in power to allow me to get one strike (Hurrah!).

The game proceeded smoothly and we didn’t encounter any of the technical hitches that seem so common when you visit one of the bowling chains. I didn’t win, but for once that didn’t really matter as I knew I was on to a winner having discovered this gem of a place, and after all that exercise I was STARVING! *harp music ends; camera goes back to the studio*

There's a lot more to Dog Bowl than bowling - so whilst my competitively-minded friends all amused themselves by chucking ball at some small sticks, I was drinking an excellent Porn Star Martini from the enticing cocktail menu. At just £7, this was considerably cheaper than those available elsewhere in the city centre - and it was better: sweet and smooth without being sickly, with a jaunty flaming passionfruit on the top and a cheeky shot of champagne on the side. Meanwhile, my bowling reporter was drinking a Big Kahuna, a cocktail SO TALL that she actually had to stand up to drink it - in the photograph you see below I have had to adopt a squinty angle just to fit it in.

We also liked the food. The four of us shared three "small plates" as starters - the pork crackling with spiced apple sauce, the Southern fried dill pickles, and the BBQ shrimps, each priced at either £3 or £4 and thereby offering excellent value. Pretty much everyone's favourite was the pork crackling, a generous portion of crisp, piggy goodness with a perfect (and very loud) crunch, but as it is difficult to justify this nutritionally, I shall swiftly move on - not that our mains were any healthier. The non-Mr Liz male of the party couldn't take his eyes off The DB's, a mighty burger featuring a 1 lb beef patty, pulled pork, beef brisket, smoked bacon, onion rings, BBQ sauce and fries - he ate it all, and was applauded for being a REAL MAN. Mr Liz, meanwhile, was very much enjoying a portion of boneless fried chicken wings - obviously he had ordered these with the ‘Barking Mad hot sauce, lest his masculinity be called into question by the burger exploits going on elsewhere on the table. The two ladies both went for the three piece fried chicken meal served with Texas toast, creamed potatoes and gravy: the chicken was good and the creamed potato excellent, but I thought the gravy a little thin - and the Texas toast seemed to be a slightly unnecessary presence, lurking on the plate in all its threatening, bready heft. On the side we shared some Elvis Fries - a double portion of mixed potato and sweet potato fries with cheese, gravy, chilli peanut butter and bacon jam which simply defies words - the kind of thing you have to keep eating, even though you know it's wrong. Victoria even found room for pudding, a Bourbon pecan pie that she praised most highly, just before her arteries packed up for good.

The food here is good value and very well done, and despite my lack of bowling enthusiasm I would come here again for the food and the cocktails (although perhaps not that often - one would have to play a LOT of games just to burn off a MOUTHFUL of Elvis fries). Dog Bowl allowed two of us to bowl for free and contributed towards our meal, but did not require us to say nice things - in practice, we paid for much of our meal ourselves, and felt that prices were very fair. Will you see me a-flinging myself down a lane anytime soon? Probably not - but you might just see me at the bar with a VERY tall cocktail...

- Dog Bowl is at 57 Whitworth Street West, Manchester, M1 5WW; tel. 0161 228 2888.

Abba Forever Comes to Manchester Opera House Later This Month: Local Girl Rejoices, and Sings Along, quite Loudly

I've written before about my startling capacity for over-estimating my own likely mental ability on any given evening, with a long and predictable history of booking heinously intellectual activities on week nights. Would I like to review a six-hour staging of Ibsen's more obscure works, performed backwards and entirely in Peruvian, in three weeks time? Why yes! An experimental musical evening where the works of someone I've never heard of are performed only on items found in a cutlery drawer? Please! The trouble with booking things a long time ahead is that anything seems possible; then you get to the evening in question and all you want to do is go home from work, put your pyjamas on and admire Romola Garai's tailoring in The Hour, whilst drinking tea.

Well, finally I have learnt my lesson. For on Thursday 16th May I will be casting aside my highbrow pretensions and going to see something I actually want to see: the Abba Forever tribute show rolls into town, offering a joyously uncomplicated evening of Swedish melody and exuberantly-styled hair, with singing, and dancing and - probably - an ice-cream at half time. The Abba Forever show has been running since 1998 and has a reputation for being one of the stand-out tributes to the Nordic giants, with totally live performances and a focus on tight musicianship; they also - worryingly - promise to take audiences "on a journey back to the 1970s". Hopefully this means in joy of spirit rather than by re-creating the fetching pudding bowl haircut and crocheted baby outfits I would actually have been sporting during this dubious period.

So, if you're giving the Ibsen a miss, I'll no doubt see you all at Manchester Opera House on the 16th; I want it completely understood though, that as reigning Abba Singstar champion, I shall be playing the part of Agnetha - albeit from the comfort of my chair.

- Abba Forever is at the Manchester Opera House on Thursday 16th May, and begins at 7.30. Tickets priced from £17.50 - 19.50 are available here.

Manchester Summer Cider Garden: New Pop-Up Helps Local Girl Overcome Great Fear of Cider

First things first: a confession. I am a Somerset girl who does not like cider; not the taste of it, the smell of it, the sight of it, or even the very thought of it. This dates back to my 18th birthday, when a well-meaning friend bought me a pint of cider and black (look, come on - it's what students used to drink in the 90s), little knowing that blackcurrant makes me hideously, violently, incurably sick. Particularly, it transpired, when combined with an alcoholic beverage, consumed on top of other alcoholic beverages. I have not touched it since, so when I heard that this summer's Manchester pop-up bar was a Summer Cider Garden, I felt nothing other than perhaps a fleeting feeling of mild annoyance that I would be unable to join in any of the proposed outdoor fun, and would have to sit indoors somewhere, pressing my face against the glass to watch everyone else living it up in the tropical Manchester sun.

Come along to the launch party! they said. We will convert you! they said. Hmmm, I thought, unlikely. And yet, remembering how The Liquorists once showed me that not all whisky is inherently evil, I thought I would just stick my nose in, particularly as last night was that most rare of beasts - a glorious Manchester Spring evening. A perfect evening, in fact, for drinking my new favourite thing - a light, sweet, refeshing, fruit-infused beverage that - heartbreakingly - turns out to be Rekorderlig passionfruit cider. Clearly a lucky fluke - except the raspberry and mango cider is also delicious. As is the Apple Mojito cocktail, made with apple cider - all the flavours of a normal mojito, but longer, and more thirst-quenching. So, in fact, cider is LOVELY, and although I shan't be having a can of scrumpy any time soon, I can imagine myself spending lots of time here this summer, particularly if the weather is nice.

Any short-comings? Well, the bar is rather limited, offering only bottled cider and Abro Swedish lager, and Mr Liz feels that £4.50 for a bottle of cider is steep. Others will snipe about the fact that the "garden" is actually an expanse of concrete in front of the Great Northern complex, where one may enjoy the peaceful chirps of sirens rushing down Deansgate and the gentle murmuring of hen parties who have taken a wrong turn. This is nonsense, of course - I prefer my gardens on the urban side, and no-one can deny that Heart Soul Rock & Roll know what they're doing with a pop-up. This one is simple, and understated, and simply does what it says on the tin - it's a cute little wooden chalet from which nice people buy cider which they then enjoy in the sun: simple. More cocktails will be arriving soon as well - a Strawberry & Lime Summer Cup, and a Bramble made with the Wild Berry cider; rumour has it that these will cost but six pounds, a worryingly low amount for a city centre cocktail.

So am I converted? Not fully, no - but I really think it would be only fair to spend the rest of the summer in the cider garden just to make sure.

- Manchester Summer Cider Garden is at the Great Northern Square, just off Deansgate. Opening times are currently variable - check their twitter feed @McrCiderGarden for more details.

Mark Addy Gourmet Night, Ginger's Comfort Emporium, Pie & Ale Manchester, and The Queen Brie; Say it Quickly and it MIGHT not Sound so Greedy

Now, perhaps contrary to appearances, I do at least try to lead something of a balanced life: for every occasion of unmitigated greed, there are usually at least two or three quiet, unheralded days where I drink water and eat lentils as penance for my previous indulgences. Sometimes, however, circumstances conspire against me, forcing me from the path of healthy living with a string of events that leave me nothing more than an innocent victim; in other words, nothing I am about to tell you is my fault. At all. Just in case some of it appears my fault, I am presenting last week's greed in a swift diary format, in order to rush it through and prevent any serious questions being asked; feel free to gloss over any parts where I do not come out well.

Wednesday, 24th April: Gourmet Night at The Mark Addy

So, you could argue that I deliberately booked this in, but then it's hardly my fault that one of Manchester's finest chefs chooses to serve up six mystery courses based on local, seasonal produce on the last Wednesday of every month. Those of a squeamish disposition will note, perhaps with some relief, the relative normality of this month's menu (which perhaps indicates that I am to be served up a banquet consisting entirely of squirrel testicles and pig head next time, but I'll worry about that when I get to it); here's what we had.

1. Summer Truffle Shooter. Rich, thick soup laced generously with the unmistakable earthy tang of truffle; my only complaint here is that I can't get the last bit of soup out, and get a crick in my neck trying to - all the while pretending to be casually examining something high above my head.
2. St George's Mushrooms with Wild Garlic and Madeira Cream. These turn out to be feisty, peppery little fellows, housed inside a jaunty bread cage which proves useful for mopping up the Madeira sauce. I enjoy this very much at the time, but hold Robert Owen Brown entirely responsible for the fact that everything I consume for the next three days has an air of garlic about it.
3. Dublin Bay Prawns with Hand Dived Scallops. Best course of the night - once I'd tamed this fishy Cerberus and ravaged the scallop it was so sensibly guarding.
4. Braised Mutton with Capers. "Isn't mutton sad, and grey, and tough?" asked a misguided friend. No - it looks like this, and is happy, and flavoursome, and tender.
5. Honey and Saffron Poached Pear. This is just lovely - I enjoy any kind of poached pear, and the Salford honey lends just the right amount of caramelly sweetness. And, pears are healthy - this is official fact.

6. Regional Cheeses. Just look at this size of this, for two people - I admit defeat, and have it wrapped up to take home.


Thursday, 25th April: Ginger's Comfort Emporium Book Launch

So, the following day is obviously meant to be a lentil day. I cannot be held responsible if the lovely Claire Kelsey - maker of the world's finest ice cream in the form of Ginger's Comfort Emporium's Chorlton Crack - decides to launch her new book, Melt, at the Whim Wham Cafe. The whole of Manchester seems to have turned out for this one, and deservedly so - the book is full of amazing things (including the salted caramel and peanut butter ice cream, aka Chorlton Crack), and Claire herself is a most gracious host. She has even, for example, made us a spare tyre (presumably for her famous van) entirely out of ice cream.

Saturday, 27th April: Pie & Ale, plus The Queen Brie Cheese

The weekend's healthy eating plan fares no better. Once Mr Liz got wind of a new venue called Pie & Ale in the Northern Quarter, selling - yep - pies and ale, there was no keeping him away from it. It does indeed turn out to be every boy's dream - three pies for sale every day at £5.95 each, with sides of mashed potato, gravy and mushy peas available at 85p extra, and a selection of real ales at the bar with which to wash the whole lot down. I am a little disappointed that at 12.45 on a Saturday lunchtime they are just rubbing the chicken pie option off the board, leaving us with a choice only of chilli beef or the vegetarian one (which I think involved tomatoes, and beans, and other nutritious items). I go for the unhealthy one and it is lovely - really buttery pastry and a nice, spicy, generous filling; the mashed potato side is unnecessary but very good. Mr Liz says it fails the Wigan pie test (apparently you have to be able to pick it up and eat it in your hands for it to properly qualify as a real pie) but is already asking when we can go back.

Home then, where I will rustle up some delightful lentil delicacy. Um, no. Ever lucky, I have won a cheese hamper from the excellent Arndale cheese stall The Queen Brie - and she has done me proud. I absolutely, 100% promise that my diet starts from tomorrow...well, once I've eaten all this cheese up, anyway.


- The Mark Addy is on Stanley Street in Salford.
- You can find out more about Ginger's Comfort Emporium here.
- Pie & Ale can be found at The Hive on Lever Street in the Northern Quarter.
- The Queen Brie can be found in Manchester Arndale Market.

Sweet Baboo and Olympian at Chorlton Irish Club: ONLY Clue for Local Girl that it ISN'T 1992

One of the unexpected pleasures of getting older has been the discovery that whilst one may no longer be at the cutting edge of fashion, one actually no longer cares that this is so. This brings with it a hugely enjoyable freedom - the freedom to do what you want, and eat what you want, and drink where you want, and wear what you like, and listen to the music you actually want to listen to, rather than worrying about what everybody else is doing and thereby spending a precious Friday night wedged in some dive or other whilst a child of about nine plays music that makes your head hurt. Even better is the fact that it really is true - if you wait long enough, all the things you have always liked become popular once more. Every day, for example, there is at least one student amongst my classes wearing a Smiths t-shirt, often with the insouciant air of someone who has done something terribly clever and discovered a band that NO-ONE has ever liked before. Almost all of the female students wear leggings and little flowery tea dresses, or skinny jeans with ballet pumps; in other words, the same default outfits that I have been rocking through thick and thin since about 1991.

In other early 90s news, my favourite album of the year is Suede's Bloodsports - a mighty return to form that has been marred only by the sight of Brett Anderson, now an uncomfortable-looking middle-aged family man, hamming it up on Jonathan Ross. In the last week I have booked tickets not only to see Suede, but also New Order and Johnny Marr at Jodrell Bank. Tonight, I am going to see Clint Boon and the Clone Roses, and maybe have a drink at Jabez Clegg first. There is a new Primal Scream album to look forward to. It is honestly as if the last twenty years have never happened, and it is MAGNIFICENT.

Occasionally though, I do deign to listen to something new. A few weeks ago I fell in love with a song by Manchester band Olympian, called "Kill the Lights Suzanne" - it features Badly Drawn Boy and it is beautiful, so I am most excited to hear more of their stuff when they support Sweet Baboo at Chorlton Irish Club on the 9th May. This is the first in a series of regular live gigs organised by Bop Local, who have always understood that people over the age of 25 are still quite partial to going out dancing but would also quite like to do it close to home and ideally be in bed with a nice cup of tea by midnight. Full details can be found on the Bop Local website, but this looks a real bargain at just £7 a ticket and has obviously proved beyond all doubt that my finger IS still firmly on the pulse. Now, just to pick out some nice leggings and perhaps a cardigan to wear on the night...

Drop Dead Chocolates: Mr Liz Sets Up Camp, Open-mouthed, on Doorstep in Hope of Future Deliveries

Now, truth be told, even the most sanguine amongst us would be hard pressed to find pleasure in all that comes through the letterbox. Take today, for example; I have come home to find a note saying "windows cleaned today" (which in itself is clearly not problematic, were it not a sign that someone will knock on later and demand £6.50 of cash money that could otherwise be spent on beer), and a Boden catalogue. I have never ordered from Boden in my life, and find it astonishing that my consistent track record of showing absolutely no interest at all in their wares should justify the expense of sending me a brochure every month or so; still, if I ever need an overpriced cardigan, I shall know exactly where to look (the recycling bin, most likely).

As we get older though, we can take steps to mitigate this flood of unpleasantness and turn the tide in favour of nice, wanted items plopping onto the front door mat. In recent times, I have done this by moving ANYTHING that might be likely to send me a bill to "online only", and by subscribing to a fleet of subscription magazines that mostly involve food: so much nicer to come home to a glossy picture of a sausage roll smiling up at you from the mat. And, of course, there is - in theory - the joy of the online purchase, although this in practice often leads to its own particular set of traumas: if there's one thing worse than arriving home to a bill, it's coming home to a jaunty card telling you that your parcel has been taken away to a depot whose opening hours are between 5am and 6am on every second Saturday.

So a big hurrah then for the increasing number of companies who are deliberately designing and packaging their goods to fit through the letterbox. This includes Drop Dead Chocolates, an online supplier of luxury confectionary based in Sale, Greater Manchester, who made my day last week by sneaking up to my front door like a good fairy in the night and depositing THIS through the letterbox:

You will note the sleek, handsome box - and perhaps think that such a size and shape could not hold anywhere enough chocolate to assuage the remnants of a day's worth of M60 road rage. Au contraire: inside, my feverish hands found forty eight chocolates (those Neopolitans down the middle are stacked four deep), beautifully presented and lucky to make it into this photograph before the first of the truffles nobly gave themselves up for the greater good (mine). I've eaten about half of them now, and haven't found a duff one amongst them - the white chocolate champagne truffle is my favourite so far, with a good kick of booze and just the right texture, but whilst typing this I have also enjoyed one of the more unusual choices in the form of mint mousse in dark chocolate (although some of the little sugar crystals from the top have gone between the keys - I must make a note to let them know about this).

I was lucky enough to be sent a mixed taster box for reviewing purposes, but I would buy again - either as a gift for someone else or as an occasional treat for myself (although to be fair, this is only really feasible as I am one of those annoying people who can make a box of chocolates last for about three months, whilst poor Mr Liz sits dog-like near whatever surface is currently holding said chocolates occasionally shooting a baleful glance in their general direction). Prices start from £2.50 for a box of twelve Neopolitans, and go up to £24.50 for the larger boxes of 36. There is also the option to personalise your selection by choosing which chocolates are included, but you do need to spend a whopping £100 to qualify for free P&P.

Still, you can't argue with the quality or service here - all I need to do now is find a way of keeping Mr Liz's paws off the box when it next arrives on the front door mat; indeed, this may be a service best suited to those whose husbands do not get home from work before them...

- Drop Dead Chocolates is a Perception company; read more about their chocolatey stable here on their website.

Don Giovannis, Manchester: Local Girl Impresses Fancy American with her Crab-Pickin' Skills

Now, in any city there will be restaurants you just never end up going to for one reason or another. Perhaps they lie slightly off the beaten track, or are out of your price range, or appear in the local paper on a regular basis for having mice and cockroaches in the kitchen. Perhaps a friend has had a bad experience there, or they serve a type of cuisine you don't like. Or maybe, as with the case of Don Giovannis on Oxford Street in central Manchester, you just don't really know why, other than a vague feeling that there are better places to eat elsewhere. Don Giovannis have a new menu though, and are keen for people to try it...so last night we did, and were pleasantly surprised.

We arrive shortly before 7.30 on a beautiful evening, full of the joys of Spring and absolutely starving our heads off. Initial impressions of this venerable establishment (a Manchester stalwart since 1984) are mixed - I am not keen on the orange chairs, but we are given a lovely table in the window, and as the daylight fades and the fairy lights begin to glow there is an undeniably warm and convivial atmosphere in the restaurant (and as Mr Liz obligingly points out, my backside amply covers the offending orangeness of my chair *glares, but cannot deny accuracy of in-trouble husband*).

We order from the a la carte and start with that obligatory classic, Tomato Garlic Bread. We ask for this to "be going on with" as I am so hungry that I am considering eating my napkin or perhaps a nearby table leg, but it arrives with our starters instead and is thus slightly redundant. This is the only service blip of the evening though, and the bread itself is thin, crispy and delicious - as it should be in any half-decent Italian restaurant. I also very much enjoy my starter of Frittura Mista, which is amongst the dearer of the starters at £8.45 but is a veritable riot of fishy favourites - deep-fried calamari, scallops, king prawns and white bait served with a good, thick aioli which has plenty of flavour but doesn't overpower the fish. The scallops are particularly joyous - two plump fellows served with coral still attached; in fact, by comparison, Mr Liz's calamari looks a little wan - good as he declares it, I would rather pay the extra £1.50 and have scallops and king prawns thrown in any day.

For mains, Mr Liz won't be swayed from his default choice - if we're eating somewhere that offers a Diavola pizza then he orders it. It turns out to be a pretty good example of the species - I like the cooling, creamy mozzerella and the contrast it creates with the spiciness of the salami and chilli, finding the overall effect fresher than ones he's had elsewhere. Mr Liz comments to the waiter that he'd prefer it slightly spicier, but this is immediately rectified with the offer of some additional chilli oil and next time I look up, the whole thing is gone. My own main course is one of the new dishes on the menu, the Spaghetti Neri al Granchio e Vongole - squid ink pasta with fresh crab meat, clams, cherry tomatoes, garlic, white wine and parsley. We feel it is not the most elegant presentation - it looks like I've already been at it in the picture below, whereas I promise I haven't - but it turns out to be the stand-out dish of the night; every restaurant needs to give you a good reason to go there, and for me it would be this. The crab-to-spaghetti ratio is perfect, and although I get myself in a terrible mess with the crab claws I am clearly enjoying myself - the American businessman at the table next to us leans over to enquire about my dish, and says his wife will love it when she joins him next week. Incidentally, this gentleman eats at Don Giovannis on his own every week, because he likes the food and the way they look after him - such reciprocal loyalty is always worth noting in any restaurant.

To wash all of this down (we are FAR too full for dessert), we choose a perfectly good Sangiovese at £16.95 from a wine list that is heavy on Italian selections - as it should be, although this is not always the case in Italian restaurants in the UK. We do feel that some cheaper wine options would be a welcome addition to the list, but overall the meal is good value for city centre - a fact surely reflected in the number of families packed into the restaurant on what is clearly a busy night. Tomato bread blip aside, the service is charming and efficient, although I do need to point out that we were invited to review the new menu, and were given a contribution towards the cost of dinner. Will we visit again? Very probably, especially if we were going to the Palace Theatre or to Manchester Central with family - or as part of Mr Liz's new favourite night out, for he has discovered that Don Giovannis lies exactly halfway between Brew Dog on Peter Street and The Whim Wham Cafe on Whitworth Street - a fact he is unlikely to forget anytime soon, and one that explains this morning's beer and gin head...