Amba Restaurant and Bar: Local Girl's Intrepid Adventuring Goes Well-Rewarded

Now, they say that a change is as good as a holiday (or some other such worthy nonsense); I'm far more interested in the rather hurtful claims made by certain individuals that I am somewhat set in my ways, spending my time flitting between favourite haunts in Didsbury and a handful of places in the Northern Quarter, living on nothing but fancy-dan burgers, Aperol spritzes and cocktails served in jam jars. Obviously there is NO TRUTH WHATSOEVER in all of this, but just in case there is, I can offer up clear and incontrovertible proof of my adventuring ways. For last night, I went all the way to Hale.

Now, there is no need to be alarmed here: in recent years I have become most fond of Altrincham, its nearby sister - although we are not currently on speaking terms since the recent (and still painful) closure of the wondrous Brew House bar. Hale itself is smaller, but beautiful - I am already picturing myself decorating an enormous, Victorian-style Christmas tree in the bay window of one of the highly desirable houses that line the streets here; and I would particularly like one on Ashley Road please, as that seems to be where all the restaurants are, including last night's destination: Amba Restaurant and Bar.

First impressions are very, very good: on what is clearly a quiet night in Hale (all the other restaurants we pass are empty, some with waiters in the window sadly eyeing up the deserted streets), Amba is full - literally every table in this welcoming, bustling little place is occupied or has been occupied by the time we leave. Amba is about to celebrate its tenth birthday, and I suspect that the locals are wise to the excellent value set menu, available 6pm - 10pm from Sunday to Friday and offering two courses for £15.50 or three for £18.50. We decide to order off the full a la carte menu (in the interests of thorough research, obviously), and choose the following:

Pre-Starter: yes, yes, I know - I am now at the age where I fear I will NEVER learn my lesson about cramming another course in under pretence of needing time to study the menu; in fact, the whole tenor of this post will revolve around the familiar theme of my eyes being bigger than my stomach. Still, as long as a restaurant offers a dish of mixed vegetable crisps for £1.95, and as long as I have spirit in my soul and breath in my lungs, I will order them. And beat Mr Liz's eager hands with the drinks menu when he tries to share them.

Starters: Now these were good. I had the chicken liver parfait at £5.95, a PROPER parfait, with that perfect texture that is somewhere between artery-stopping richness and light-as-air, whipped softness; when I say that it has a light sheen of meaty sweat on its glistening surface I mean it as the greatest possible compliment. The orange-onion marmalade served on the side is a suitably sweet-yet-tart accompaniment, although the tiny kilner jar it is served in is reluctant to yield up its treasures to my clumsy, giant knife. Mr Liz has a crispy duck salad with pink grapefruit and pomegranate seeds, and considers that the zesty zing of the fruit is a perfect foil for the rich duck in its sweet dressing. Our only criticism is portion size: they are simply enormous, and I am happy to acknowledge that Mr Liz and I are two of the greediest people who ever walked the planet. Yes, it's perhaps better to err on the side of generosity, but I lack self-control and hate leaving food; you may wish to start preparing yourselves for the soon-to-be-unleashed revelation that Mr Liz has to leave some chips from his main course - he has been dreaming of them all night, and is STILL regretting this out-of-character action this morning.

Mains: Speaking of mains, one of the things I liked best about Amba was the seasonal specials section on the menu, clearly ever-changing to reflect what is particuarly fresh and good at any particular moment. From this, I choose the pheasant cooked with sour cherries and served with roast parsnips, kale and celeriac mash, a suitably Autumnal-sounding dish that doesn't disappoint. Pheasant can go a little dry, but this lucky individual is perfectly cooked and served with crispy skin (the best bit) still intact; the sour cherries are a nicely tart touch, although the quantity of meat provided (half a pheasant, methinks) perhaps requires one or two more fruits to really make the most of this classic combination. The star of the dish is the celeriac mash, which seems roughly one part healthy vegetable item to three parts butter and two parts salt: exactly the way I like it, in short. Some would find this too rich, too salty, but for me this kind of mash is a real restaurant treat, as the soullessly wholesome versions I make at home are lucky to see even a splash of skimmed milk. Meanwhile, Mr Liz is embarking upon a plate of steak and chips roughly the size of the Titanic - he has gone for the 280g rib-eye at £22.50, and it is a prime specimen indeed, with that beautiful marbling of fat that makes so much difference to the flavour and texture of this cut. The steak comes with baker chips, mushrooms and tomatoes - no additional side dishes needed here, although the fiery peppercorn sauce he fancies does come as an extra. To our shame and sorrow, though, Mr Liz leaves several of the excellent chips and I even abandon a little of the pheasant - I really feel I have let you all down and these are not the standards of eating you expect from me.

Desserts: but surely you'll try a pudding? cries the lovely lady who has been bringing us these gargantuan dishes, with all the innocent menace of a waiter offering a wafer-thin mint to a dangerously full diner. I am ready to explode, but do manage a spoonful of the shared white chocolate and raspberry creme brulee (I argue weakly for the lighter-sounding fruit and sorbets platter, but Mr Liz is having none of it). This is perhaps a little heavy a choice in view of what we have just eaten, but I like the unusual flavour combination, and the pert raspberries do help to cut through the richness of the white chocolate. We do not drink much with dinner as we have the car with us (yes, I realise that Dora the Explorer would have shown us up here, by finding some way of navigating her way to the far-off terrains of Hale without a motor vehicle), but I do manage to sample the Hendricks Fizz from the new gin cocktail menu and it is sublime; in fact, the drinks options here are impressive full stop, with a wide selection of wines, gins and cocktails as well as Belvoir soft drinks for those remaining compos mentis.

In short? A lovely restaurant, with a menu full of things I'd like to eat, friendly staff and great cocktails. I do think the portions here are on the hefty side, but we perhaps didn't help ourselves by ordering some of the heavier options - I shall certainly try to choose more judiciously next time (for we will certainly come again)...or maybe just ask for a doggy bag, for I could really just fancy some pheasant and chips round about now...

- Amba Restaurant and Bar is at 106 Ashley Road, Hale, Cheshire WA14 2UN; tel 0161 928 2343. We were invited here to review the restaurant and were therefore not asked to pay for our food or drinks, but we will definitely go again as paying customers, even though it is ALL THE WAY AWAY IN HALE.

Top Night at The Brew House, Altrincham; Local Girl (Brave) Doesn't Even Feel Homesick

Honestly; never let it be said that I am not adventurous of spirit. This week I am a foot-weary traveller with a passport full of stamps; a hoary old wanderer with a knotted handkerchief tied up with memories of the new and exciting worlds that lie at the very edge of the limits of human experience. Yep: this week, I have been out of Didsbury, TWICE.

First, it was Chorlton. Then, last night, even further: Altrincham. And I didn't even have a MAP. There was of course a sterling reason for such unprecedented levels of adventuring derring-do: The Brew House, the specialist world beers bar and one of my most favourite places on the planet, is there rather than here. If you yourself are considering such a foray, here are the pros and cons of such a venture:

Pros:

1. The Brew House is a gorgeously warm sort of a place for a chilly evening, like a welcoming red cavern lit only by flickering candlelight, the glint of bottles, and the wholesome love of beer that pervades the entire premises. True, they have painted over the Tin Tin pictures that used to adorn the walls since rebranding from the exclusively Belgian Le Trappiste, but I'll forgive them on the basis that they now sell a wider range of beers than they used to. And this is a good thing, because...

2. ...boys like beer, and when they are permitted to have beer, they become genial, and consider you to be the finest wife in the universe. This leaves you free to chat happily with female friends over a decent bottle of red from the wine list whilst they all discuss dull Man Things (one of the party had recently built a Man Cave in his garden, which obviously prompted much debate) and drink terrifyingly strong beer from test-tube-shaped glasses.

3. The music is amazing. Owner Martin clearly understands the joy inherent in a good mix tape, and chooses to play Buzzcocks, Squeeze (Up the Junction, to which I sang along in a loud and heartfelt manner, much to the delight of all other customers), Oasis and Happy Mondays - amongst others - to his grateful and discerning clientele.

4. Martin also knows everything there is to know about beer, and is happy to make recommendations and chat with geeky boys eager to learn more about the fine art of opening a bottle of something and pouring it down your throat. He even makes it sound poetic, describing a particularly malodorous beer as having the aroma of a Manchester bus shelter. And I suspect Mr Liz will be reminscing for years about "the night Mr Brew House showed me his cellar" - apparently it's, ahem, impressively well-stocked *pictures grandchildren looking bored and whispering "oh no...not this story again" to each other*

5. They now sell bar food that consists entirely of pies.

6. And if you don't fancy a pie (in which case you are probably reading this blog by accident anyway), you can always pop to curry house Dilli for tea. This is what we did, and I can't help thinking that next time I go for a curry and am NOT presented with a whole duck breast amid a sea of perfect sauce it's all going to be terribly disappointing. The duck breast was just one of the extraordinary dishes on the current fancy dan special menu for the Rajasthani Food Festival that runs till the end of March - don't forget to take along your Brew House receipt for a discount from your bill *money saving expert face*

7. Finally - and don't underestimate the importance of this one - if you give them a ring before you go they will let you reserve a table, meaning that you can wear your very best impractical Taxi Shoes secure in the knowledge that you won't have to stand uncomfortably all evening with a slightly sad, martyred expression on your face - much better for everyone.

Cons:

1. It's located somewhere I do not live.

Verdict: case closed.

- The Brew House is at 18 Shaws Road, Altrincham WA14 1QU; tel 0161 941 1981

- Dilli is at 60 Stamford New Road, Altrincham WA14 1EE; tel 0161 929 7484 /0161 927 9219

Perfect Saturday - Culture, Food and Bargaintastic Supper at Harvey Nics

Yesterday was another of those perfect January days with which we are sometimes spoiled: crisp, fresh air gently warmed by a surprisingly brave winter sun, while an over-arching sky of cloudless blue bathes the world in light and cons you into thinking Spring is just around the corner. Of course, the downside to this kind of day is that the aforementioned light floods its way into every nook and cranny of a house that has been largely neglected since Christmas, and points out that really, perhaps a bit of housework wouldn't go amiss, and that really, perhaps it's not a good look to have accumulated quite that much dust and cat fluff in the corners of all the rooms.

To cope with such unwanted accusations, yesterday I did what I do best: I went out. First stop, Clark Art in Hale, a gallery of tardis-like proportions full of gorgeous paintings that I would purchase in a flash if a/ I had any wall space left and b/ Mr Liz had deeper pockets. The gallery normally hosts two exhibitions per year, in March and September, but the Winter Show running at the moment is an extra, bonus collection that's well worth seeing: the constantly changing show is a mixed exhibition of Modern British Art with a particular (but not exclusive) focus on Northern artists and subject matter, and it's hard to imagine where else one might see such a fine collection - all for sale - hanging so casually together in such a convenient location. The show includes works by L.S. Lowry, Adolphe Valette, Braaq, Liam Spencer (about whom, rather terrifyingly, I once had to talk about in a spontaneous, knowledgeable and perhaps not entirely successful manner on BBC Radio Manchester), William Turner, John Thompson and Reg Gardner - amongst many others - and runs until 28th February.

Further details can be found at the gallery website. Incidentally, there is a cafe upstairs which we didn't have time to try but which is apparently run by Mrs Frosty Butcher, thereby reinforcing my theory that the Frosts are now approximately three quarters of the way to their planned world domination, and that soon you won't be able to go anywhere in the North West without being offered one of Frosty's tasty sausages. Instead, for lunch we went for a pit(ta) stop *smirks at own wit* at Pitta Crepe in nearby Altrincham - this time, I had the Chicken Tikka pitta and can confirm that whilst it was just as nice as the Moroccan Lamb I had last time, I did manage to make considerably more mess with this one, so be warned and don't wear a white top if you plan to have one.

Now, obviously in no way is my life dominated by food, but my thoughts were already turning to evening, and Harvey Nichols' Supper Club. The Second Floor Brasserie was - understandably - packed to the gills last night, full of lovely people who wanted in on the frankly ludicrous deal of three courses plus cocktail for £15 that is running throughout January; so packed, in fact, that the ballsy Brasserie space had begun to encroach upon the hushed environs of its older, posher sister - half the restaurant area had become Brasserie, meaning that we were lucky enough to bag a table by the window and gaze down upon Exchange Square throughout dinner.

And a really very good dinner it was. The Supper Club menu offers five choices per course, and frankly we quite fancied trying them all; in the end, Mr Liz went for the Black Pudding starter with Apple and Raisin Ravigote (you have to love a restaurant that serves a Northern staple with a classic French sauce) followed by the Chicken with Chilli & Coriander Hash Browns and Spicy Corn Salad, whilst I had Crispy Duck with Winter Slaw & Watercress Salad followed by Crispy Lamb Shoulder Tagine with Israeli Cous Cous.



The starters were great, particularly mine (hurrah - I'm best). Obviously, in this picture, my dish is NEAR, while Mr Liz's is FAR AWAY, but my starter really was the size of a small main, and even had to be shared with an eager Mr Liz lest I should run out of room for the next course. The duck was light and crisp, the winter slaw was oh-so-pretty with its pinky beetroot tinge, and overall this dish would have been perfect if only I could eat watercress in a dainty manner without bits sprawling from the sides of my mouth.



Mr Liz was the winner with the mains (hurroo - no longer best) - the sliced chicken was moist and tasty, and the three hash browns were things of great joy that I would have eaten in their entirety given half the chance; instead, the small taste I was permitted revealed them to be light, crunchy towers of tantalising moreishness. My lamb was tasty and tender, but just a little on the greasy side, and amongst the mostly delicious vegetables lurked a giant piece of carrot that due to its heft had not become as soft as its bedfellows (and indeed, had actually not become soft at all). These were minor details though, and obviously I cleared my plate and looked for more.



Desserts were of the standard you'd expect from a high-end restaurant, with Mr Liz choosing the Tiramisu Sundae (he always does this, as I dislike coffee, and he therefore doesn't have to share) while I went for the White Chocolate Brulee with Raspberry and Thyme Shortbread. Mr Liz proclaimed his deconstructed Tiramisu (a dinky dish filled with pieces of chocolate cake along with mascarpone sorbet and coffee mousse) a triumph, and my brulee - which would have been on the sickly side served on its own - was perfectly balanced out by the generous chunk of slightly savoury shortbread.

Obviously, it's wildly easy to spend far more than the advertised £15 here - bread, olives and side orders cost extra (although to be fair, you don't need them as the portions are generous anyway) and the cocktail provided on arrival is a glass of vodka punch that slips down rather too easily, so you may well need to order extra drinks as well unless you stick stoically to tap water. Still, the offer remains great value, and I'm busy checking my diary to see if I can possibly squeeze in another visit before the end of January...

Supper Club runs Monday to Saturday from 5.30pm - full details are on the website.

Local Girl Lured to Altrincham for Lamb Pitta and a Cheeky Mulled Wine; Pitta Crepe has a LOT to answer for...

I am increasingly distressed to note that my smug, insular existence - an existence that has seen me happily ensconced in the walled environs of Didsbury for many a year - has been somewhat under threat of late. Firstly, there's my new favourite restaurant, Damson, which lies across the border in Heaton Moor and therefore necessitates the procuring of a taxi cab, often on a Saturday night. Now, it seems that I am going to have to find a job in Altrincham, or at least an excuse to visit pretty much every Saturday, in order to feed my new lunchtime obsession: Pitta Crepe.



Now, I was a little sceptical about this too. On a Saturday just before Christmas, with a delicious mixture of sleet, rain and snow falling merrily from the leaden skies, street food was pretty much the last thing on my mind, which was veering far more naturally towards an afternoon on the sofa watching a black and white film and eating the remnants of the birthday chocolates. And yet an unassuming mobile kitchen, tucked away in the Stamford Quarter and manned by the most cheerful man in Britain, has today served me some of the best food I've eaten in ages - and that includes the meal where I sat by the Christmas tree in my pyjamas and ate five types of cheese for dinner.



Pitta Crepe has been going for about eight months, slowly building a large and loyal following who seemingly tweet daily about their love for the Moroccan Lamb Pitta: minced, spiced lamb served in a flatbread with salad, yoghurt and chilli sauce. This is their best-seller (with Chicken Tikka a close second), and it is easy to see why. The lamb is succulently tasty, and manages to be at once robust and delicately flavoured - Mr Liz literally gazed at it open-mouthed until he was thrown a scrap, at which point he immediately retired with it, growling at all comers until the treat was safely snaffled. Not that he wasn't much amused with his own gargantuan Bratwurst, hand-made by WH Frosts in Chorlton (is there a single foodie pie that Frosty doesn't have his finger in?) and served with onions and potato wedges. This one is a seasonal offering only, although has proved so popular that owner Simon is thinking of keeping it on as a regular (I'm pretty sure Mr Liz will put his signature to this if required) once the festivities have finished - it's worth getting one before next Saturday though, just in case he changes his mind.



This magical pocket kitchen also sells sweet and savoury crepes, and even has some alcohol-free mulled wine to wash it all down with. Prices are silly for food of this quality, with my large lamb pitta costing just £3.50 (and with hindsight, the regular size would have been plenty) and Mr Liz's sausage-fest £4.50. There is even a covered seating area alongside the van to protect hungry folk from the elements, or Simon will happily foil-wrap food so it can be taken home (although I suspect anything I tried to transport in this manner would not survive the car journey home).

The only downside? It was cold in Altrincham today, so cold that to defrost our hands we were FORCED to go to the nearby Brew House and drink more mulled wine - just to warm up, you understand. Last time we came here it was our beloved Le Trappiste, so it is with some relief that we note that it seems just as welcoming as ever - the decor is the same (although Tin Tin has gone), the staff just as lovely, and the selection of Belgian beers still healthy despite the emphasis now on this as a world beers bar.

In fact, after a quick trip to the market as well, today reminded me how much I like Altrincham - where else can you go home with a belly full of lamb pitta and a handbag full of kippers? They may, of course, wish to use this as their advertising slogan in future...

- Pitta Crepe is opposite Rackhams in Altrincham, and is open Monday to Saturday.

- The Brew House is at 18 Shaws Road, Altrincham WA14 1QU.

Things To Do in Altrincham: Top Night at Le Trappiste and Dilli

I am by nature a most adventurous soul; I am perfectly willing, for example, to try my hand at either red wine or white wine, and sometimes during the week I stay up as late as 10.30 (although, admittedly, this does not happen that often.) So it should come as no surprise to anyone that rather than do the usual and go out in Didsbury last night, we threw caution to the wind and travelled several miles to Altrincham - which is, after all, in an entirely different county, although luckily it transpired that no passports were required.

The main reason for our trip to Alty was to try Le Trappiste, a bar offering the largest selection of Belgian beers in the North West. Mr Liz has been campaigning for a visit ever since he spotted it during the Altrincham Food Festival but was denied entry by his cruel wife, who wished instead to go the crepe van, and as girls were outnumbered three to two in our party last night it seemed the time was right to finally grant his wish.

And actually, it was perfect. We had rung ahead and booked a table, and were given a prime spot in the front room of the bar - a small but perfectly formed beer haven, with sultry red walls and a bar gleaming with tempting bottles. The venue extends over two floors, but as the charming staff offer full table service, there is frankly no need to ever leave your seat; despite its tardis-like proportions, however, I would suggest it is worth booking at the weekend if there are a few of you. Also make sure you take an expert boy with you if you are a Belgian beer virgin, as the drinks menu is roughly the size and thickness of a sturdy doorstop, and contains more beer than any boy could have ever dreamed of. We stayed for a couple - I was comparatively unadventurous and chose a De Koninck and a Maredsous (persuasively listed as a "good quaffer", like myself), but the most popular choice was the Kwak beer, served in what appeared to be a giant specimen jar (EVERY boy wished to try this one, unsurprisingly.)

In an even more exciting example of a plan coming together, Le Trappiste offers its customers a discount voucher for nearby Indian restaurant Dilli, which by happy coincidence was our next destination. Mr Liz and I had enjoyed a meal there before, on a quiet midweek evening, but last night's dinner was nothing short of breath-taking. Firstly, the place was packed - a good sign on what appeared to be a quiet night elsewhere in Altrincham; indeed, a spectactularly rude party refused to wait five minutes for their table and walked out. Still, their loss - this is what we ate, and they didn't:

- 1 x Papad Basket (poppadoms helpfully broken into bite-sized pieces for exceptionally lazy diners like ourselves)
- 1 x Kebab platter for two
- 1 x Parsi fried fish
- 1 x Lamb Chop Adraki
- 1 x Tangari Kebabs

And for mains...
- 1 x Kashmeri Roganjosh
- 1 x Hyderabadi Bhuna Gosht
- 1 x Kozi Chettinad
- 2 x Specials...and I can't tell you the names as - my ONLY complaint about the entire evening - the menus were too faded to read them. Mine contained spinach and chicken, if that helps.

We also had the best bread any of us have ever had in an Indian restaurant - we had to keep ordering more and more of the Pudhina parantha, crispy layered bread flavoured with mint. The bill for five of us, including two bottles of wine, came to £108 - this does include our 15% discount from Le Trappiste, but we all agreed it would still have been excellent value even without it.

So, Altrincham gave us the best night we've had for ages, a just reward for our brave intrepidness in crossing the Cheshire border. Now, if the whole town could just be picked up and moved a little nearer to my house, it really WOULD be perfect.