New Autumn Menu at Linen Restaurant, Manchester 235: Local Girl is Pudding Convert

It is sometimes said - a tad uncharitably, in all truth - that certain individuals would turn up to the opening of an envelope if they thought there would be a free glass of wine involved (present company excepted of course - NO sniggering at the back). Indeed, a couple of weeks ago it looked splendidly as if a number of local luminaries would be turning up to celebrate the opening of a door - the long-awaited portal that now allows direct entrance into the Manchester 235 Casino from the AMC Great Northern Complex on Deansgate.

We stayed at home for the great door unveiling, but did venture out last night for the launch of something far more exciting - the new Autumn menu from Manchester 235's impressive house restaurant, Linen. Mr Liz and I ate here at the end of July and liked it very much (you can read the full review here), so we were excited to see what the new season would bring - although it does have to be said that the welcome cocktail served on arrival by the legendary Drinks Enthusiast was pure summer in a glass: G'Vine Gin's superlative Flouraison with gomme syrup, fresh lemon juice and more fresh basil than I managed to grow in my garden all year. Still, it was delicious, and I'm fairly certain I can easily recreate this at home, only perhaps without the gomme syrup. Or the fresh basil. And with a lower quality gin. And, I might just slice the lemon. Still, similar though, eh.

Anyway, on to the food. A selection of dishes were brought to the table for us to share (fortunately I was seated next to The Hungry Manc, whose general all-round good nature and sense of gentlemanly honour slows down his fork speed considerably), and although this does of course not accurately reflect a normal dining experience at the restaurant, we were assured that the portion size and so forth seen here IS exactly the same as you would receive if you ordered from the menu. We sampled three starters, three mains and three puddings, many of which I would order again - here are the highlights.

The best starter, for me, was the sauteed pigeon breast served with beetroot hummus and red wine jus, seen in extreme close-up here as I try to shield it with my body so The Hungry Manc doesn't see it. The meat is pink and tender on the inside and stickily caramelised on the outside; I also enjoy the contrast between the warmth of the meat and the cool, aloof sweetness of the earthy hummus alongside. This is a smallish portion at £7.95 a go, but the pigeon is rich and filling, and remember, you won't have to share with TWENTY others. Second place goes to the rustic pork and pistachio terrine, a sturdy slab of nicely chewy, flavoursome meat - this would have won, actually, if it weren't the kind of starter I order pretty much every time I go out, so in fairness this is more my fault than the terrine's. Third place for the home smoked salmon and beetroot salad; I like the salmon, and I like the beetroot, but I'm not terribly sure they flatter each other in this particular partnership.

On to the mains, and I reckon the first is the best - great meaty Cumbrian lamb chops, residing stickily amongst a sultry crowd of roast garlic confit, potatoes forestiere and truffle jus. Even better, the lovely Hungry Mrs - with whom I am also dining - passes on her chop and I swoop on it with all the restraint and decorum of a seagull approaching a particularly lucrative-looking dustbin. Joint runners up spot is awarded to the fish dish - seared fillet of bream with saffron sauce - and the roasted wild boar steak with chorizo. The latter of these two would have been a clear winner with a little more sauciness - the meat was moist, but the jus was reduced to little more than a sticky glaze, and when a side order of hand cut chips arrived they took the whole dish to the wrong side of dryness. This problem is easily rectified however, and this is another dish I would order again. We also had a very good side order of cauliflower cheese - pricy, perhaps, at £3.95, but flawlessly executed, the thick, creamy sauce stylishly removing any trace of worthy healthiness on the part of the vegetable item.

And so to dessert. I am categorically NOT a pudding person, and for this reason the marbled Bailey's and chocolate cheesecake and raspberry rippled Baked Alaska - although both good-looking AND tasty - are largely just decoration at the end of the meal. But the first dessert served up, the toffee apple creme brulee, is a revelation: soft, mildly tart apples adding some welcome texture the smoothness of the creme brulee, the warmth of the accompanying cinnamon shortbread just crying out to be used as a tasty weapon to break through the crisply burnt topping...and the cute little toffee apple on the side? I'm afraid we actually fought over it. This is one of the few desserts I have ever had that I would actually adjust my menu choices in order to accommodate - it really is wonderful.

We were also extremely honoured that Head Chef Jarda (previously of Smoak fame) came out to explain each dish to us; he is engaging, and passionate, and clearly excited about the food he is serving up - we listened to him politely, attentively, interestedly, whilst secretly longing to start devouring his dishes. Linen is definitely an asset to Manchester's fine dining scene and a worthy destination for any special occasion - even better, you can now take your night out to the next level by going through that lovely new door...

Grinch Wine Bar, Manchester: Local Girl Rediscovers Long-Lost Love

Now, I have always thought of myself as an exceedingly loyal person. I am proud to say that I have known many of my very closest friends for upwards of fifteen years; I have been with the same mortgage lender for longer than shiny-faced Cameron has been in power; I even get a personally-addressed Christmas card from my local Indian takeaway. And yet, in the past twelve months or so, I fear I have been grossly disloyal to one of my oldest and dearest restaurant friends: Grinch. As long ago as February 2008 I waxed lyrical about the lustrous charms of its meaty goodness - it has appeared many times on these pages over the years, and always with the same result: fatness, happiness, mild tipsiness. It was, quite frankly, the perfect relationship.

And then, somehow, I stopped going. I think it was a rush of fancy new places that did for me - they turned my head with their fashionable locations and their own delicious meaty goodness, and some of them will indeed be keepers. But coming back to Grinch tonight was like finding an amazing pair of favourite shoes that have somehow got lost under the bed - they make you feel fabulous, and you wonder how you have done without them for so long.

At 6pm tonight, the place was packed; luckily we had booked, and were rewarded with the favoured table under the lady with the impressive feathers - if you don't know what I'm referring to, your homework for the week is to go to Grinch and find out. Even better, it was still happy hour, meaning that all cocktails were £4.50 and all pizzas £6.50; I fear I had finished my first Amaretto Sour before my dining companion had even got off her train. Once she arrived, we polished off a shared starter of nachos, seen here piled high with guacamole and sour cream, and then shared the Oriental Duck Pizza and the Special Fried Chicken served with fries and homemade barbecue sauce.

My friend - a Grinch virgin - had been perusing the menu on the train and had been sceptical of duck on a pizza, but soon realised that actually, it makes perfect sense; a beautifully thin, crispy base, covered with shredded duck and hoisin sauce, then scattered with thin slices of cucumber and spring onion - it's very probably my favourite pizza in the whole of Manchester. And the chicken? Grinch have been perfecting this recipe over the last 19 years and it shows - moist, tender strips of white flesh (sorry, the lady with the feathers may have made me a little smutty) contrasting nicely with the crispy crunch of their coating; I know this coating is good, as there was a little bit left on the plate that had lost its chicken, and I even ate that. You should also know that Grinch do perfect fries here - never, EVER offer one to any boy diner you may be with, as he will eat the LOT *voice of experience*.

Best of all, though, is the price. Two cocktails, four glasses of Prosecco, a massive starter and two mains came in at £51, in the centre of Manchester, on a Saturday night. Grinch, I'm so sorry I've been away for so long - I certainly won't be making the same mistake again.

- Grinch is at 5-7 Chapel Walks, Manchester, M2 1HN; tel. 0161 907 3210.

101 Brasserie at Manchester's McDonald Townhouse Hotel: Local Girl Turns up Unexpected Gem and Longs for More Days in the Eating Week

Over the last few years, there has been something of a trend (often, it has to be said, most clearly voiced by London-centric food writers) for criticising the Manchester restaurant scene. Not only do we have no Michelin stars, we also apparently lack anywhere even half decent to eat, no doubt leaving Southerners to imagine an ugly scene in which hollow-cheeked Mancunians queue wanly outside Greggs in order to fight over the last crumbs of a pasty or two, before stopping for a pint and some black pudding flavoured crisps on the way home.

I have a different issue with Manchester restaurants: I think they are just too good. Bearing in mind that there are only seven days in each week (and I am expected to spend a worrying proportion of at least five of these engaged in gainful employment) and only one size of jeans in the drawer, this leads to some difficult decisions over where to eat on a night out; decisions not helped when you discover ANOTHER restaurant turning out really classy food that you were previously unaware of. For me, the restaurant revelation of the week has been the 101 Brasserie, attached to the McDonald Townhouse Hotel on Portland Street; as a Manchester resident, hotels in the city centre barely even register with me, and Portland Street tends to be somewhere I hurry along, head down, lest I accidentally make eye contact with a Yates' Wine Lodge.

All that is set to change, however, with the discovery of this little gem on the corner of Princess Street. 101 Brasserie is a small, muted affair, tastefully (too tastefully?) decorated in the subdued colours and style that so many hotels go for in the hope of appealing to all tastes. What the environs lack in oomph though, the food delivers in spades: good, strong, gutsy flavours with a traditional slant to the dishes in terms of ingredients and presentation. Take Mr Liz's starter, for example (I did in fact try very hard to take it, but he defended it in staunch manner by building a wall of condiments around it and emitting an occasional growl) - his Free Range Eggs Benedict was a sturdy yet elegant dish generously piled with flavoursome crispy bacon and thick, creamy Hollandaise: it would make an excellent lunch dish if you're ever passing during the day. My Slow Cooked Yorkshire Duck Leg was a small pile of tender, gamey meat flaked and served with shallots and a touch of orange, and was a delight from first mouthful to last - it wasn't quite as generously portioned as the Eggs Benedict, but the staff were MOST forthcoming with a basket of excellent bread with which to mop up any last remaining morsels.

These starters were, for us, the highlight of the meal, but quality remained impressive with our mains. An Autumnal nip in the air meant that there was one clear choice on the menu for me: Highland Venison served with red cabbage, dumplings, sweet potato and juniper. The meat was tender, juicy and pink, and went well with the sweetness of the cabbage and the potato; my only (minor) grumble was that I would have liked a little more cabbage. However, a side order of buttered samphire more than made up for this small shortcoming - there was so much of it I even permitted Mr Liz an exploratory foray, although he was altogether distracted by his own side of proper, fluffy-on-the-inside, golden-crunchy-on-the-outside chips. These he scoffed alongside a 21 Day Matured Scottish Ribeye Steak, perfectly cooked and packed with flavour. We did find ourselves wondering whether the chef couldn't perhaps use some ingredients from closer to home; this may of course be out of his hands as part of a hotel chain, but it's a shame nevertheless, particularly as the standards of cooking are so high.

Pretty full by now, we had planned to share one dessert but ended up with two - I really fancied the Peanut Butter Parfait, whilst the staff all recommended the Warm Layer Cake with caramel parfait and poached pear. We enjoyed the cake - a dainty square of moist sponge alongside soft, sticky fruit - but preferred the peanut butter parfait: there's something about that combination of salty and sweet that does it for me every time (insert your own double entendre here if you must - personally the desserts were too classy for that if you ask me).

Service was cheery, friendly and enthusiastic - the staff are clearly proud of the food they are serving up, and are happy to discuss any of the menu items. Rather than follow the same dishes offered by the other McDonald hotels, at 101 Brasserie the chef has chosen to design his own menu, and this little streak of individuality shows: true, there is nothing here that would change the face of gastronomy, but there ARE plenty of things I would like to eat, over and over again. And that, to me, is worth a DOZEN of your Michelin stars.

- We were invited to try the brasserie and were not asked to pay for our meal. However, we were under no obligation to be nice, and our server was not aware that we were there to review. And we will definitely go again - value is good for city centre with starters around the £6.50 mark and mains all under £20.

Royton Real Food Market: Local Girl Explodes with Middle-Aged Excitement (Organic Cloth Bags at the Ready!)

Now, technically I am not quite middle-aged. And yet I find I can accumulate an increasingly long list of evidence that would suggest otherwise - and the interesting thing is, I find I don't even really mind. To wit:

- a definite sense of excitement that today I'm going to nip to Boots and pick up the Christmas catalogue. I will turn straight to the food section, and draw rings around hampers of jam, biscuits etc that I am hoping people will buy me.

- increasing reliance on the heady high provided by knowing there are clean bedsheets to get into. Sometimes, if I know there are clean pyjamas too, I start angling to go to bed around 6pm. I note in passing these pyjamas are often of the fluffy, heart-stoppingly unsexy kind.

- an interest in going out sometimes for a nice walk. I have always done this, of course, but this walk no longer needs to terminate with a visit to a pub as its ultimate destination.

- a belief that a quality night out (which still offers all the essentials of good wine, good company, good food, a quick burst of table dancing etc) will ideally end with a chapter of a nice book in bed before midnight.

And the most damning evidence of all? Entire weekends spent in pursuit of the Food Market/Food Festival/Farmers' Market, each of which may as well have a gentleman on the door beckoning me in and whispering seductively "welcome to the pleasure dome" - I can think of no other environment that offers so much potential pleasure within such a small, safely confined area. Last weekend I went to two, both in Ashton - Tameside Food Festival on the Saturday and Ashton Farmers' Market on the Sunday. Other middle-aged readers will share the sense of joy I felt when I won a box of organic vegetables on the Saturday, courtesy of Mossley Organics - I honestly couldn't have been more excited by my prize, which you see here in all its muddy, middle-aged glory. The quality was superb, by the way - I would definitely buy from them in the future if I lived within their delivery area.

And tomorrow's food market of choice looks something pretty special, for Sunday sees the second outing for a new monthly greed-fest called Royton Real Food. This has been brought to my attention by James from Bobby's Bangers (yes - he was the man who brought a bag of sausages to The Mark Addy for me once, although sadly this does appear to have been a one-off, albeit a thrilling one), for his wife Heather (he insists she has no objection to being called "Mrs Bobby's Bangers", but I privately have my doubts about this) has been heavily involved in organising the whole thing with help from the market manager. There is a tremendous list of stall holders set to appear tomorrow (I have included it below so that you can judge for yourself how many middle-aged cotton bags you'll need to take with you, but do beware this is a SHORTENED version), and the main draw for me here is that no two stalls will be selling the same produce - much as I like the occasional cupcake, no-one needs twelve different companies selling them on the same market.

Royton Real Food will be on in Royton town centre between 11 and 3 tomorrow - I'm going to try to get there early as apparently plenty of people sold out last month, no doubt leading to middle-aged tantrums as ladies craving a Mrs Love-itts scotch egg or similar threw themselves disconsolately wailing to the ground. Fortunately there will be two brass bands on hand tomorrow to provide such tantrums with a suitably melodic accompaniment. I'll leave you with some of the suppliers and a glimpse of Chimney Stack Cakes - you'll definitely be seeing me hanging around here tomorrow before I head home to my clean bedsheets...

Coddy's Farm - home reared pork and lamb
Keith Gaskell- Highland beef
Carefully Crafted Cakes
Paul's Fish
Two Roses Brewery - micro brewery
Sue's Spring Rolls
The Tiny Takeaway - authentic Indian spices
Jenny's Cheese
Olivicco - olives, hummus etc
Simply Veg - vegetables (obv)
Mrs Love-itts - pies and scotch eggs
The Eatery - home made biscuits & fruit pies
Hog Roast (you'll prob see Mr Liz hanging round here)
Bobby's Bangers - amazing sausages
Bobby's Bangers Baps *smirks* - as above but cooked
Yorkshire Drizzle - pressed rape seed oils
RS Ireland Black Pudding- Rick Stein's food hero
Yummy Nuts- flavoured nuts
Bridge Street Bakery - bread
Scallion Soups and Sauces
Chimney Stack Cakes (see pic)
Dimitri - Greek wraps

You can follow @roytonrealfood on Twitter for all the latest updates.

Competition Time - Win a Manchester Spa Day with I Need Pampering: Local Girl Gets to Play Noel

Toss your hat in the air and shout "huzzah!", for 'tis competition time again - and it's a good one. And, truth be told, I'm particularly excited about this one as it has a whiff of Noel's Christmas Presents about it - I'm already picturing myself all twinkly-eyed, sporting an unpleasantly-patterned sweater and a sinister little beard, benevolently bestowing goodies upon the deserving people of this world.

For this is a competition which invites you to nominate someone deserving of a treat, some pampering, some spoiling - perhaps your mum, or a work colleague, or a friend, or even your favourite blogger, who toils tirelessly and selflessly on your behalf, round the clock (oh no, wait - I'm Noel, aren't I - scrap that last bit).

So here's how it works. Manchester based gift experience company, I Need Pampering, have launched a competition for our readers here at Things to do in Manchester, giving away a fantastic spa day experience from a selection of their Manchester spa days gifts. The winner may spend up to £100 on a spa day of their choice - I Need Pampering have loads of different experience days and gifts in and around Manchester, as you can see via the attached link.

I would like to know who deserves a fantastic day out in a luxury spa, who has done something amazing this year regardless of how large or small? Is there someone in your life who has shown an incredible amount of kindness this year? Someone who has suffered this year and is deserving of a fabulous day out? Or, ahem, just someone who will make your life a misery if you don't nominate them?

You need to send me your nominations to the normal email address (manchestercomps@outlook.com), making it clear who this person is and why they deserve to win. At the end of October I will choose a winner, who will win a complimentary spa day with spa treatments included to be used at any time over the next 12 months. My decision is final, and may well be based on who makes me cry the most into my reindeer-patterned sweater (note - I will NOT then provide an "additional" surprise in the studio in the form of a pile of toys, car, do up your kitchen whilst you're out etc etc). I can however promise you infinite amounts of good karma if you're the person who nomintes the eventual winner (or they'll owe you a bottle of wine, at least).

So thanks again to I Need Pampering for this lovely prize - now go get nominating! *hankies at the ready*

The Thrill of the Chase at The Liquorists: Local Man Runs Amok at the Manchester Food and Drink Festival

A few weeks ago, pretty much the unthinkable happened: Mr Liz was not only allowed out unsupervised, but was also allowed to write about it, here on these very pages. And, turns out you LIKED him, although not as much as he liked himself - he has, it seems, got quite a taste for seeing his words in print. So, due to popular demand (and me having a stomach bug over the weekend), here's Mr Liz's report on his visit to The Liquorists' Thrill of the Chase...

Now it has been said that I am a man of simple tastes. Food, drink and some form of sporting event is usually enough to keep me happy. And this year I have been a happy man indeed, what with the Olympics, the Paralympics, the Champions League, the Ryder Cup, Andy Murray actually winning something that matters - twice (not Wimbledon though) and the most tightly fought Premiership season for many a year.

Unfortunately due to the combination of a great summer of sport and my love of food and drink, I have recently found my waist reaching a level where it was just too uncomfortable shoehorning myself into airline seats. This has led to serious attempts to lose weight, which is why the annual Manchester Food and Drink Festival has come around at exactly the wrong time for me: a plethora of enticing food and drink events, that I am simply not allowed to visit upon pain of an overly tight pair of trousers.

What can I say other than I am weak. On what was one of the wettest Sunday evenings I can remember, where I had every reason to stay home and batten down the hatches, I surrendered to my base desires and turned up at the Green Quarter HQ of The Liquorists for an evening of Chase Vodka.

For both readers of the blog who haven't heard of The Liquorists, they are a fairly recent addition to the Manchester Food and Drink scene whose mission is to give you an education in inebriation. As any veteran of their Whisky, Rum and Gin trails knows the format is straight forward. Top quality alcohol, followed by cocktails made from the self-same alcohol and a small snackeral of food designed to complement the drink interspersed with the story of the drink.

You're not drinking; you're learning...which makes it OK.

At this stage I must admit that the educational elements have occasionally passed me by, but I did manage to note down some snippets of information that stuck in my mind:

1. Chase Vodka is made from potatoes, which is apparently unusual because it's difficult to make and adds to the cost of the spirit, but tastes particularly nice. So potato based Vodka = good.

2. Apparently all of the ingredients of the Vodka (and Gin) that was on offer is sourced from the same farm. This means that the food miles associated with the distillery are in the single digits, which means you can sit down and enjoy your drink while thinking of how much good you are doing for the environment. Probably.

Now, Vodka is the base for some absolutely iconic drinks, such as the Bloody Mary or the Vodka Martini. And I like both of them, but I’ve never been too convinced with Vodka as a neat drink. But if there were ever a bunch of guys who can convince me otherwise, their name is The Liquorists.

And so onto the drinks.

In order of drinking they were: Chase Vodka, John Collins, Chase Gin, a cocktail with no name, Smoked Vodka, a Vesper based cocktail (this containing Chip Dry White Port in place of Kina Lillet - which is substantially better tasting than the name would suggest), Marmalade Vodka, Marmalade Bagliato (which was a mix of prosecco and Marmalade Vodka) and finished off with a bonus Apple Vodka. All served with a variety of canapés specially chosen to complement the drinks and enhance the flavour.

Now that is a great selection of drinks, all of which were very much enjoyed. Yet if I were to rank them in order of preference, the Vodkas with the more intense flavours won out over the base Vodka every time, with a particular mention going to the Smoked Vodka and the Marmalade Vodka.

Even after all of this I’m still not convinced about Vodka on its own. I drank some neat Vodka that was substantially better than the majority that have passed my lips over the years, yet the cocktails were also improved by a similar margin. Sorry guys, but my neat tipple of choice will remain the Whisky until further notice.

Obviously, just to be on the safe side, I may have to sample some more Vodka at a later date*. I know I’ve got a bottle of Marmalade Vodka occupying shelf space at home right now and I suspect that this won't be the case for much longer.

So great evening, great company, great food, great Liquor, not so great weather. Well you can't have everything. I can't personally wait until the Tequila trails hit Manchester later this year: perhaps someone can tell me what the point of the worm in the bottle is.

* For Educational purposes, so that makes it alright

So, thanks to selfless Mr Liz, although I feel duty bound to remind him that the bottle of Chase Marmalade Vodka at home is MINE, and offer in passing the casual observation that, judging from his photos, he doesn't seem to have moved from the bar all evening. You can find out more about the lovely Liquorists here, and the delicious Chase Distillery here.

Manchester's Seven Word Wine Review Dinner at The Market Restaurant: Local Girl Gets Legs

Now, I have to admit that I've always been markedly better at drinking wine than at tasting it. Confident with a corkscrew from the age of three, I am peerless in the art of opening the bottle, pouring a generous glass, quaffing said glass, and then repeating this process ad infinitum, preferably whilst lying on the sofa. All that other stuff though - the holding it up to the light, the swooshing round the glass, the wafting, the inhaling, the admiration of mysterious properties such as "legs", the earnest discussion of all things chocolate and cherry, gooseberry and grass - has always been a little beyond me, not least because after all that hard work and effort it appears you are expected to simply POUR AWAY the wine into a nearby receptacle, such as a spittoon or, in my case, a husband.

I have, however, been broadening my bibendary horizons in recent weeks. Last month, I quaffed knowledgeably with The Didsbury Wine Club and learned many things - most notably that Reserve Wines sell a marvellous Bordeaux and that too much wine on a school night is not always entirely a good thing. And then last night, I found myself at The Market Restaurant in the Northern Quarter in the company of 17 lovely, enthusiastic and - by the end - quite drunk people convening for the second Seven Word Wine Review dinner. The premise here is simple - you bring along a bottle of wine that you love and which costs under £20 (*pretends is regularly in the habit of spending £20 on a bottle of wine rather than more usual £7.99 or similar*) and then share it with the other guests, explaining what it is and why you like it. And yes, I too was surprised to find that a bottle of wine will serve 17 people (albeit in rather daintier portions than is my natural inclination to pour).

We started with a sparkling red, then moved on to whites, and then hit the reds, all the while cleverly multi-tasking by eating the three course meal that appeared by magic in front of us - pate, followed by steak, followed by gargantuan cheese platters. The benefits here are so astonishing that quite frankly I can't believe I've not been going to this sort of thing for years - you get to try loads of different wines that you might not normally choose, and because you're not paying a restaurant mark-up on any of it you can spend a little more than perhaps might be in your nature *looks askance at Wiganer husband*.

My favourite wines of the night? In terms of white, it was the St Clair Pioneer Block Sauvignon Blanc, brought by wine enthusiast Si and purchased from Majestic Wines. And, rather immodestly, my favourite red was the Chateau des Gravieres brought by, ahem, me; although any glory I might have claimed from "discovering" this gem was somewhat negated by the presence of Omar - the very man who introduced me to it last month at The Didsbury Wine Club. To be honest, though, I enjoyed most of the wines, and even if I hadn't the joyous company would have more than compensated - no pretensions here, just nice, knowledgeable people talking about what they enjoy drinking and keeping mercifully quiet about legs and gooseberries.

Mind you - if anyone has any ideas what I should take to the next Seven Word Wine Review dinner then do please be in touch - both our wines last night may have been a hit (they are pictured here in a "before" and "after" shot) but I might just need your help if I'm to keep up the pretence of being a classy wine-drinker...

- Last night's dinner was organised by the lovely Gordon: you can follow him on Twitter as @everymanwines or check out his excellent wine blog here. We paid £20 a head for our three courses at The Market Restaurant and they brought so much excellent cheese even I couldn't get through it all (although I did try).

An Evening of Burlesque at Manchester's Palace Theatre: Local Girl (Thankfully) Keeps Clothes ON

Now then, let's be honest about this: Manchester, much as I love it, does not always make it particularly easy for its residents to feel sexy. Take any night last week, for example - even the most cursory of glances at a random selection of Mancunian timelines would have indicated beyond any reasonable doubt that Manchester was pretty much at home, in its pyjamas, on the sofa with the heating on, drinking hot chocolate with brandy in it. To many of these Mancunians, even the thought of taking their clothes off long enough to jump into a hot bath seemed HIGHLY unpalatable.

Let us spare a moment then, to ponder the fortitude, bravery and downright selflessness of the plucky ladies and gentlemen performing at Manchester's Palace Theatre last Friday night in An Evening of Burlesque. This was a filthy wet night - cold, showery and miserable (although Mr Liz did manage to convince himself it was weather enough for a cheeky banana gelato at the nearby Fresco Freddo's beforehand) - yet here they were: suspenders jaunty, corsets laced, tassels poised, purely for our entertainment (and that was just the MEN).

I have to be honest and say I didn't really quite know what to expect from An Evening of Burlesque, basing my imaginings on a vague awareness of Dita Von Teese and a recent visit to the Faerie show at Paris' Moulin Rouge. And perhaps it was unfair to judge the show based on this admittedly rather sketchy body of existing knowledge, but the first half was certainly something of a disappointment - a mish-mash of traditional variety-style acts, fire-eating, singing and suspenders. It lacked any kind of cohesion and left the (clearly well-oiled) audience of hen parties and birthday celebrants baying for more; it seemed very tame and - dare I say it - a little unprofessional. A confused, slow version of Ice Ice Baby performed by compere Ivy Paige pretty much summed this half up for me - a little dull, a little wrong, a little, well, odd.

What a difference an interval makes. The second half was fabulous: Ivy Paige won us over with a VERY funny section involving an audience member who was supposedly stalking her; the Folly Mixtures quartet of burlesque dancers, kept exceedingly under-wraps in the first half, were finally allowed to show off their beautifully sparkly and strategically placed tassels in a series of group and individual pieces which were far more engaging than their earlier equivalents; and the star of the show, Amber Topaz - the original "Yorkshire Tease", as seen below - got to show off her full range of considerable talents (by which I mean that she sings beautifully, as well as being funny AND sexy - get your minds out the gutter).

So overall, a good night - if the first half had been up to the standard of the second, I would have been so overcome with burlesque spirit that I may well have treated my fellow travellers to a quick strip on the bus on the way home, inclement weather or not. As it was, I kept my clothes firmly on, and hurried home to turn the heating on, don fleecy pyjamas and have a nice cup of hot chocolate...

A Tribute to the Blues Brothers - LIVE Gets Local Girl Dancing in the Aisles at Manchester's Lowry Theatre

Now, although I like Edinburgh very much, and visit on a pretty regular basis (not least because Mr Liz claims at least twice a year that "something may have changed" at the Scotch Whisky Experience, thus necessitating yet another trip), I have never actually been when the Edinburgh Festival is on. There are two probable reasons for this. Firstly, I am mildly claustrophobic, and just thought of the vast number of people likely to descend upon this fair city at Festival time makes me feel a little anxious. What I suspect to be the real reason, though, is the vague notion I have of what the Festival might be like - a notion that involves an entire weekend of picking the wrong things to see, thereby earning oneself the pleasure of sitting through a selection of fairy tales performed entirely through the medium of dance and/or mime, or perhaps some scary, shouting, wild-haired thespians banging on drums whilst loudly proclaiming the complete works of Ibsen in Norwegian, and possibly backwards.

I do understand, of course, that the Festival is (probably) not really like this. I know plenty of people who go every single year, and who speak with passion and excitement of the times they have discovered a true gem lurking amidst the Hungarian drummers - a thrill I myself will never experience. Fortunately for me, I did manage to catch up with one of these gems in the altogether safer environs of The Lowry Theatre last week, as the Hartshorn-Hook production A Tribute to the Blues Brothers - Live made its Manchester debut after three successful seasons at the Fringe AND a run on the West End. This is essentially an hour and a half of insanely catchy music interspersed with the odd key line from the original film, and is exactly the kind of way that EVERYONE should spend Thursday nights: sitting in a darkened theatre wearing sunglasses as two men - one thin, one fat - sing great songs accompanied by enthusiastic and talented musicians, and doing a small, surreptitious dance at the back of the box during the second half to help burn off the big fat portion of confit de canard consumed before the show (actually, this might just have been me).

The show has apparently now played to over 10,000 people (9,995 more than have seen the Hungarian shouty Ibsen, no doubt), and is the only one in the UK licensed to use Jake and Elwood, the Blues Brothers characters. As if that wasn't enough, Hartshorn-Hook Productions (founded by Louis Hartshorn and Brian Hook five years ago) are a Manchester-based company, so whilst Jake and Elwood have now packed up their bumble-bee suits and moved on from our fair city, you should certainly take the chance to see them next time they're in town - keep an eye on the Hartshorn-Hook website for details of upcoming shows.

As for me, I'm off to plan my next holiday - I hear Edinburgh is just LOVELY this time of year...

Things to Cheer You Up in Manchester - Books, Crafts and Films to Banish Those Autumn Blues

Well, season of mists and mellow fruitfulness it may be, but so far I have only noticed September offering increasingly dark evenings, motorways clogged with cars bearing sulky-faced back-to-school children (and teachers), and a high chance of discovering the cat sprawled in front of a radiator that has now had to be turned on. Still, whilst it may be tempting to simply retreat under the duvet and wait for more exciting times to come (Bonfire Night, Christmas, anything that licences daytime drinking), there are actually a number of nice things you could be doing instead...

Go to a book festival. This is always a promising option, as attendance at something so literary during the day pretty much means you can spend the evening in whatever pursuit you choose and feel no form of guilt whatsoever. This weekend it's the Alderley Edge Community Book Festival, organised by Oxfam and due to open today at 11am with Edwina Currie reading from the latest instalment of her memoirs (and I think we ALL remember some of the disturbing details she revealed in the LAST one). Also appearing are Erica James and Melvin Burgess, and there will be an auction of rare books as well. It's all for a good cause, so get yourself down to Festival Hall - I will probably permit an ice-cream after to reward you for your generous efforts.

Cunningly combine a cinema-cum-pub visit. This one has WINNING IDEA stamped all over it - simply show one of Mr Liz's favourite films (Clerks) in one of Mr Liz's favourite venues (a pub - in this case, the Black Lion in Salford) and provide beanbags to loll on and burgers and beer to purchase - it's like a perfect kingdom of man, the opposite in fact to all those sad, awkward males you see lurking miserably outside the changing rooms in Top Shop. The showing forms part of the ‘Masters of Cinema’ series curated by Future Artists, the creative collective who run the arts venue at the pub - Hitchcock's Vertigo will be shown the following week to form an intentional contrast to the slacker vibe of Kevin Smith's classic. Clerks will show at 8pm on Tuesday 18th September, and advance tickets for just £4 a go can be bought here (remember to take plenty of beer money though).

Get Crafty. I'll be doing a proper post on this once I've had a chance to get down there and have a look, but just a quick heads up that Manchester Craft & Design Centre in Manchester's Northern Quarter is currently celebrating its impressive 30 year history with a specially commissioned Crafting History exhibition that runs until 10 November. Now, I love beautiful things, but as I was apparently born with plenty of thumbs but no elegantly able fingers, I have to admire work that other people have done rather than ever create my own - pieces on show here include a site-specific installation by ceramicist Carys Davies (I will not be letting Mr Liz anywhere near this, as I can already imagine the potential for breakage) as well as other gorgeous things such as this exquisite necklace by Julia Roy Williams *wants*

The exhibition runs until November 10th, and you can find out more about it on the centre's website.

So maybe September's not looking so bad after all, particularly with the Manchester Food and Drink Festival on the horizon as well...

Hey Little Cupcake's New East Coast Collection Proves There's Life in the Old Cake Yet...

Over the last six months or so, I've heard plenty of people pontificating on the decline of the cupcake. The trend for small, tasty cakes temptingly slathered with buttercream and then decorated to resemble small, perfect works of art is over, they opine pointlessly, no doubt pottering off to nibble earnestly on whatever it is we are meant to be eating these days. Now, I do concede that the cupcake has become somewhat ubiquitous, and the fact that those lambs to the slaughter on the Great British Bake Off would never even dream of trying to impress the terrifying Hollywood/Berry combo with something as obvious as a cupcake does suggest that these innocently pleasurable mouthfuls have become distinctly cake non grata.

And yet, there are two clear lines of defence here. Firstly, something that tastes nice and makes people happy does not suddenly stop tasting nice and making people happy overnight, just because some grown-up somewhere says so. And secondly, saying that cupcakes have had their day hardly accounts for some of the innovative flavours and designs currently being produced by talented bakers who understand that people DO still want to eat cupcakes but perhaps might quite like to try something new as well.

Enter Hey Little Cupcake (they do have an exclamation mark, but I have temporarily suspended it, lest this post begin to sound rather over-excitable), a small but perfectly formed cupcakery and tea room tucked away on Little Quay Street in Manchester's Spinningfields. This week they launched their new East Coast collection, offering seven flavours which aim to take the greedy purchaser on a gastronomic journey along America's East Coast, generally agreed to be far more interesting and exotic than the normal cupcake path I beat between the sofa, the kettle, and back again. Here's the collection in full, with a different one introduced every day this week:

Monday - Florida Key Lime Pie. Digestive biscuit base with a lime sponge and topped with a refreshing lime cream frosting.

Tuesday - Boston Cream Pie. Vanilla sponge with a custard filling topped with custard buttercream and rich dark chocolate ganache.

Wednesday - Lady Baltimore Cake. Cherry and raisin pink vanilla sponge topped with light 7 minute meringue frosting and crushed pecans.

Thursday - Mississippi Mud Pie. Oreo cookie base under a rich chocolate Yorkie pudding filled sponge and topped with chocolate buttercream, fresh cream and chocolate sprinkles.

Friday - New York Cheesecake. Digestive biscuit base with vanilla cheesecake sponge topped with vanilla pod cream cheese.

Saturday - Brooklyn Blackout Cake. Espresso and rich dark chocolate sponge filled with a chocolate fudge filling and topped with chocolate buttercream, dark chocolate ganache and chocolate sprinkles.

Sunday - Kentucky Jam Cake. Cinnamon sponge filled with raspberry jam and topped with Carmel buttercream, cinnamon sprinkles and toffee sauce.

I was lucky enough to be given a box of four to try (clearly my reputation as an inveterate cakehead goes before me): the Key Lime Pie (sharp, sweet, zesty, gone), the New York Cheescake (tangy, not too sweet, good hit of real vanilla, also gone), the Kentucky Jam (rich, sweet buttercream offset by warmth of the cinnamon, not quite enough jam for me, also gone) and the Mississipi Mud Pie (generously reserved for Mr Liz and therefore not yet gone, as he possesses an irritating amount of self control). You see them here in all their glory - just imagine how pretty they looked BEFORE I carried them across Manchester and then tried to resist licking all the icing off them on my train journey home.

Each of these beauties costs £2.75 - find me a similarly priced treat that can bring a similar amount of pleasure and I too will sound the death knell for the cupcake. Until then, if you'll excuse me, I've got someone else's cake to be eyeing up...

- Hey Little Cupcake! is on Little Quay Street, Spinningfields, Manchester M3 3HF - they are open every day, and as it's Sunday today you've got till 4pm to go and grab your Kentucky Jam Cake - go, GO!

Didsbury Wine Club: Local Girl's Hopes of EVER Staying In Cruelly Scuppered

Now, for all the crazy and unfounded accusations regularly hurled my way about how I'm never at home, always out, blah blah BLAH, I am actually very fond of the odd night in - the kind where pyjamas are donned immediately after work and the sofa embraced like a long-lost friend. However, it's starting to look very much as if a couple of extra days in the week might be needed in order to facilitate this night in, for it's getting increasingly difficult to find an evening that is not now regularly ear-marked for something nice, particularly round these here Didsbury parts. For example, Monday night is supper club at Love 2 Eat Deli whilst Thursday night is pie night; Tuesday nights bring free cheese and crackers at the Dog and Partridge whilst the weekend is just, well, the weekend. That pretty much just left Wednesdays as a shining beacon of early-to-bed-ness (apart from the last Wednesday of every month, which is of course Mark Addy Gourmet Night - you see the problems I'm up against here), a reliably nothingy sort of night with which to charge ones batteries ready to go again during the remainder of the week.

Well, turns out Wednesdays are not so reliable as they once were, for they are the preferred meeting night of the estimable Didsbury Wine Club - which is, essentially, a group of like-minded South Manchester quaffers who meet up on a regular basis to appreciate wine, discuss wine, learn about wine and, most importantly, neck loads of the stuff. Frankly, it's a wonder it's taken me so long to get on board with this one: yesterday was my very first Wine Club, although it most certainly shall not be my last. Venues and events vary from month to month: this one was at The Violet Hour in West Didsbury, a Euro- and Olympic-inspired event which pitted wines from seven different countries against each other in a fight off to the death (or whatever the wine equivalent of this might be - a fight to the pouring-down-the-sink-ness, perhaps). This is the sight that greeted me on my arrival...

...although, tragically, it soon transpired that I was expected to share this little haul with the twenty or so other cheery souls also in attendance. The ebullient Omar explained the rules of the competition (which frankly were perhaps a little more complicated than necessary for a group of people each about to drink seven glasses of wine) and we were away: in groups of four we graded each wine out of ten and then had a go at guessing the price of each, tasting three whites and four reds in total - an Italian Pinot Grigio, a South African Sauvignon Blanc, an American Chardonnay, a Chilean Reserve Merlot, a Spanish blend of Cabernet Sauvignon and Tempranillo, an Argentine Malbec and a Bordeaux from France (all of which were sourced from the superb Reserve Wines on Burton Road). My favourite was the Bordeaux, closely followed by the Malbec - these were the overall joint winners as well, which indicates either that I have an excellent grasp of what makes a good wine and all-round impeccable taste, or (possibly) that these were the final two wines sampled by a group of people who appeared progessively less keen to spit any of the wine out into the receptacles provided.

The evening ended with one of the teams each winning a bottle of the most popular wine (I'm a little vague on how these winners were decided, as once it became horribly clear that I was not one of them I did lose interest somewhat) to take home, and even those people who had NOT won (fix! fix!) would have been hard-pressed to feel that seven generous glasses of wine for the event price of £15 did not represent excellent value. Joining the Wine Club is free, and new members are always welcome - see the website for more details. There is also a Manchester Wine Club, and there will soon be a Chorlton one too, as well as plans in the pipeline for other locations.

In fact, the ONLY negative I can come up with is that I shall clearly become a regular - so next time you're haranguing me for never staying in, please remember that it's simply not my fault...

Perfect Saturday - Liquorice Bar, WestFest and the Return of the Alchemist Chicken in a Basket

Sometimes, a day just goes right. And to be honest, you know you're off to a winning start when you wake up to find that a/ it's Saturday, and b/ you feel tip-toppity despite taking part in a Liquorists Rum Trail the night before. And here's how the day got EVEN BETTER...

1. A sunny WestFest. This was the fourth annual celebration of the independent businesses that flourish along West Didsbury's Burton Road, and for me it was the best. The sun was shining, the beach was back at Folk, the queue for free fish and chips at Frankie's Fish Bar was as long as ever, and - best of all - a pop-up tavern had appeared outside Rhubarb. Here I sat, drinking icy-cold white wine and snarfing cartons of crispy fried chicken, coronation coleslaw and pulled pork roll, enjoying the sun whilst a stream of familiar faces meandered past - perfect.

2. The Return of the Giant Chicken. You may recall my joyful introduction to the chicken in a basket at the Alchemist NYS a few weeks ago; indeed, I was pretty much the only Manchester food person who celebrated this happy hen during a week when she found her tasty wares much maligned. Well, my charming dinner companion loved her bulging basket - and this time, even the coleslaw was good. And anyone who queries the fact that I had fried chicken twice on Saturday will simply be directed back to the beginning of this post to re-acknowledge that this was a day when everything went right.

3. Discovery of a New Cocktail Bar. Again, less charitable souls might suggest that I already know of plenty of Manchester drinking holes, but I'm always ready to welcome a new addition with open arms - particularly when it's running a range of tempting offers. The bar in question is Liquorice, which opened a few weeks ago in the former Destinos restaurant on Pall Mall just off King Street, and has already undergone a few changes in the form of new management. From what we saw, though, Liquorice deserves to hang around - we liked the dark, muted tones of the decor (even though from our lovely leather banquette we could see up a side street where two different men enjoyed full toilet facilities during the course of the evening), we liked the friendly knowledgeable staff (and the fact that they allowed us to bully them into playing our choice of music on the very well-stocked ipod behind the bar), and we VERY much liked that selected cocktails were two for the price of one (particularly as this selection included two of our favourites in the form of Amaretto Sour and Dark 'n' Stormy - both exceedingly well executed).

We also sampled a few of the signature cocktails, including the eponymous Liquorice - you can see it here in all its layered glory. A combination of fruit and extremely punchy liquorice is never going to be to everyone's taste (indeed, someone on Twitter referred to it as a real "Marmite" cocktail, and I can see why), but I loved it - a really unusual drink that I would order every single time. We were also impressed with the Flaming Mai Tai (which really showcased the quality of the Virgin Gorda rum used in making the drink), the Parma Violets-esque Aviation (pictured alongside the Liquorice), and a superlative Porn Star Martini, and felt that prices were pretty good for this part of town - the Liquorice, for example, is £6.95. We even had a small, surreptitious dance in our corner when the music got REALLY good - think New Order and Primal Scream as well as slightly more, ahem, up-to-date songs.

So, I ate, I drank, I danced, I basked in the sun...but the very best bit about about Saturday? After all that carousing, husband cabs was ready and waiting and I was in bed for midnight, ready to do it all again the next day...

Stuart Roy Clarke Exhibition at The National Football Museum: Mr Liz (yes - Mr Liz) TELLS ALL

Over time, it has come to my attention that Mr Liz has quietly but steadily been acquiring something of a cult following. Upon meeting him for the first time, people are apt to exclaim - with some excitement - "So YOU'RE Mr Liz", in a tone that suggests he has done something very clever, or very funny, when he hasn't. And as if that wasn't bad enough, an erroneous opinion seems to have emerged that he is somehow under the thumb, and put upon, and chastised on a regular basis, when this in fact only happens when he absolutely deserves it, and has brought it upon himself. Still, just to prove that my wifely generosity knows no bounds, tonight for one night - and one night only - Mr Liz SPEAKS...

(Photograph: FC United by Stuart Roy Clarke
Credit: Stuart Roy Clarke - The Homes of Football)

Now some regular readers of this blog may have come to the conclusion that it is predominantly about shoes, handbags and food. Possibly linked in with a touch of wine here and there.

Not that there is anything wrong with that, just that Manchester has so much more to offer in terms of culture, history and education. Which is why Liz has asked me to do my first ever guest blog on what should probably be renamed 'Cultural Things to do in Manchester (that doesn't involve, food, shoes, handbags, shopping, etc.)'.

Take the National Football Museum for example. Originally located at Deepdale in Preston, it has recently moved to the Urbis exhibition centre in Manchester. For anyone with even the slightest interest in the beautiful game this is an absolute must see with a range of special events, guest speakers and temporary exhibitions all worthy of note along with interactive football games for the little (and in some cases, not so little) ones.

Which brings me on to how I spent an engrossing hour this week.

Currently the temporary exhibition space is filled with a series of images by the official Football Trust photographer Stuart Roy Clarke, and on Friday he was on hand for an all too brief hour to explain some of the thinking behind some of his most iconic photographs.

While the influx of money into football can be considered a good thing, it is undeniably bringing about a change in football as clubs become businesses first. I doubt that anyone can deny this has resulted in improved facilities for fans and players, but in doing so we are at risk of losing an essential part of what makes the game so accessible to so many. These days it seems that the results on the balance sheet are more important than the results on the pitch. Stuart Roy Clarke realised that, in the aftermath of the Hillsborough disaster, football was at a pivotal moment and that things were about to change within the game. Therefore he set out to document as much of this as possible before it was gone, resulting in his 'Homes of Football' exhibition.

While ostensibly a football photographer, Stuart Roy Clarke's photography is about much more than just two teams of men running after a ball. It's about the fabric that surrounds football just as much as the game itself. He manages to capture the details, the passion, the glory, the disappointment, the expectation, the hope, the excitement and the emotions. In his own words, the football match is merely the icing on the cake as he strives to show balance in his photography, between what happens on the pitch and what happens on the terraces, between the events during the game and the events before. His photographs are just as likely to focus on the tea ladies as on the terraces with everyone involved being regarded as equally important within the context of The Match.

I found Stuart Roy Clarke to be an entertaining and interesting speaker, happy to engage with those of us who had made the trip to the exhibition as well as sign autographs for the kids. For those, like myself, who like the technical details, Stuart Roy Clarke uses an old school Bronica (film, not digital) camera and works with a fixed lens. His images are un-doctored and reflect the colours and events as they happened, not how he may have liked to imagine them after the event reflecting a truth that is often missing in modern photography.

The National Football Museum showcases the history of a game that has culturally shaped our nation, and Stuart Roy Clarke's exhibition shows us an aspect of football's recent history that is in danger of being forgotten. Whether you are a Red or a Blue there will be something there for you to enjoy. The exhibition is on level 3 of the National Football Museum until the 31st of December, admission is free and it's open seven days a week. Please see the Museum website for further details.

...So there we go - Mr Liz has been liberated, valued and given a platform to proudly proclaim his words aloud to a waiting and appreciative world. Obviously, this WILL be the last occasion he'll be allowed to speak for some time, or I'll never hear the end of it...

The Liquorists' Rum Trail: Manchester Rejoices at NO HANGOVER GUARANTEED

Amongst the many good things about getting older (better wine, better shoes, better restaurants, going to bed early with no shame, thinking about joining the Women's Institute), lurk one or two that are not nearly so welcome - hangovers, for one. Of course, it may just be that when I was younger I simply adopted the unarguably effective practice of never stopping drinking, thereby delaying the inevitable through a continuous "topping-up" process, but I just don't remember having real, work-stopping hangovers until I was about 25. Now, I sometimes get hangovers when I've not even been drinking, and it is with great relief, therefore, that I can confirm that The Liquorists' mighty promise of "No Hangover Guaranteed" continues to hold good - for me, anyway.

If you've seen my previous posts on The Liquorists, you'll know that they are - to use their own words - "plonk pushers": in other words, they organise devilishly alcoholic trips around Manchester based on one particular spirit. We've previously blazed the Whisk(e)y Trail around the Northern Quarter and sailed upon the mighty Gin Barge; last night, it was the turn of RUM - six bars, six tots of rum, six rum cocktails and - most importantly - NO HANGOVER GUARANTEED.

*ignores cries of "can't be done!" from the back*

The trail started at 7pm in Hula Bar, a blink-and-you'll-miss-it little gem tucked away on one of the corners of Stevenson Square. Here, we met 14 other cheery souls all similarly intent on the pursuit of rum goodness, and Barry, our genial host for the night, doled out the first rations of the night - Plantation Rum by Bibendum Spirits, a clear, slightly sweet shot that slipped down no trouble at all. The deliciously tangy Atlantic Boat Club Daiquiri soon went the same way and we were swiftly moved on, despite the fact that Hula were playing Tiffany and I wanted to stay.

A brief, brave walk through the rain (luckily I had my virtual rum mac on) brought us to Keko Moku. This was my least favourite venue of the night simply because it was so busy - normally on a trail you sit in a specially reserved area, but the pocket-sized nature of Keko made this impossible. Still, we very much enjoyed the shot of 12-year-old El Dorado Rum (most people's favourite drink of the night) and the accompanying Swizzle cocktail, which contained both blood orange AND tea, and is therefore clearly suitable for promotion as a breakfast item.

Next up, Odd Bar, and a bit of a departure from the shot-and-cocktail theme: here, our Matusalem rum was served with a glass of pale ale. Now, I prefer a cocktail to a beer any day of the week and therefore sacrificed my glass to the greater good (ie not having a hangover the following day), but those who tried it proclaimed the combination to be a triumph - especially Mr Liz, who remained suspiciously quiet on where exactly my pale ale might have disappeared to.

Fourth stop was Tusk, a venue I very much liked as the musical selection (like Hula) seemed to suggest that we were somewhere in the late 80s/early 90s, although it was perhaps all a little too brightly lit to flatteringly showcase a group of people who had been necking strong spirits for several hours now. Here we had a shot of the 63% Wray and Nephew Jamaican Rum (which we found was much easier to drink with the addition of a splash of water) and a lovely cocktail described as halfway between a daiquiri and a margarita.

Just across the road now to the newish bar/deli/restaurant The Blue Pig, a very promising venue if the platters of bread, cheese and meat that we devoured here are anything to go by. On my way to the toilet I was beckoned over by a young man who seemed very keen to speak with me, my rum-induced delusions (still got it, even though I'm a hundred and ninety five years old, still hot even after twelve pints of rum, etc etc) cruelly shattered when it transpired that he'd been admiring the bottle of Brugal Blanco on our table and wondered how much it cost to buy. MEH.

Finally, we were whisked away in a fleet of taxis to our last, secret location (not actually that secret if you know ANYTHING about The Liquorists, but I won't spoil the surprise) for Pussers Navy Rum, a Painkiller cocktail (essentially rum and coconut milk in a tin mug) and a big fat Thai Green Curry just to soak up some of that booze. Whilst you do get little taster platters at each venue, nothing placates a rum-filled stomach like curry and rice, and I say this after years of extensive scientific testing (*notes with some satisfaction that all those years at university were not, in fact, wasted*).

So, once again, a great night was had by all. The Liquorists are brilliant people - enthusiastic, generous and knowledgeable, and their trails are great value. We went on a Friday, but prices are from as little as £35 a head if you go on a Wednesday night - see the website for full details as the Rum Trail runs until the end of September. And the very fact that I'm sitting here at 9.30 the next morning writing up the blog should prove that it's true - The Liquorists really do offer NO HANGOVER GUARANTEED...*

*NB, those on the trail (naming no names) who sloped off to Whim Wham or Socio Rehab afterwards and drank MORE have no-one to blame but themselves - you have broken the terms of the GUARANTEE *stern face*