Things To Do in Manchester on Valentine's Day 2012

Valentine's Day is a funny old celebration, isn't it, and surely one of the least popular on the social calendar. It's not one of those that merit a day off, nor one that specifies the consumption of a prescribed list of food...consider how it shapes up against the following and you'll see what I mean:

Christmas Day - day off, presents, licence to wear pyjamas till noon, permission to eat until button pops off trousers (which could actually be entirely avoided if the pyjama rule was extended by a few short hours), two hours of Downton or similar

Boxing Day - day off PURELY for the purpose of eating leftovers, preferably with jacket potatoes

Easter period - TWO days off, and a variety of chocolate items that contain virtually NO calories due to the high chocolate-to-air ratio

Pancake Day - no day off (why not?) but an annual occasion where everyone wonders aloud why they only eat pancakes once a year, promises to have them more often, then forget all about it till the following year, when the above cycle will begin again

Assorted May/August Bank Holidays - seemingly devised entirely for the purpose of drinking Prosecco in a beer garden wearing a nice strappy top

Valentine's Day - no day off. Shops full of tat - wistful-looking bears clutching satin hearts, shiny silver balloons fated to drop from the ceiling to the floor within 24 hours. Single people everywhere made to feel like lepers, or any other kind of non-functioning member of society. Newish couples panicking over what size and level of schmultz is required for first Valentine's gift. Established couples forced either to hide at home, or brave a restaurant full of silent, stony-faced patrons where they will be offered a three course meal with a glass of Asti on arrival and a sad rose in cellophane for the laydee (what do same-sex couples receive in these situations? Two roses? No roses?) before being charged £100 for the privilege.

Although, to be fair, a lot of restaurants seem to be offering better deals this year - maybe it reflects the current financial situation, or perhaps just a desire to rise up in revolt against the wistful-looking bears, but here are some of the best; I am on the lookout for a few more husbands so that I may attend them all...

I love the idea of going for a big fat curry on Valentine's Day, so I will start with Khandoker's offering of three courses from £15.95. This is one of my very favourite places, and I can think of no more romantic situation that sitting at a quiet table overlooking Kingsway and trying to eat a poppadom in a seductive and alluring manner. Call 0161 434 3596 to book.

A more traditionally romantic night can be found at independent Italian restaurant Azzurro, which costs £35 per head but seems good value for a glass of Prosecco and three courses from a menu that includes sea bass and sirloin steak. And you can always save money on taxi fares by telling your other half they can prove their love for you by driving, thereby allowing you to have both glasses of Prosecco as well *money-saving expert face*

Harvey Nichols is offering a range of options at different prices, with three courses and a Bellini available all week in the Brasserie for £25, and a five course gourmet tasting menu in the restaurant at £55 a head. As in previous years, there is also the rather exciting-sounding option of going for a ride (I use the word in its purest sense) on the Manchester Wheel with a glass of champagne before or after your meal for an extra £17.50; presumably you get your own capsule, as I can only think the romantic mood would be more than a little spoiled were you forced to share the ride with a snuffly man in an anorak (unless he is your love object of choice, obviously).

I still haven't been to the newish Twisted Med restaurant in Castlefield, but have heard generally good things and am intrigued by a Valentine's offer of three courses from a set menu, live entertainment and a gift for both him and her at £39.95 a head. In my head, the live entertainment is an earnest Spanish man with a guitar, who will croon at each table in a lounge-lizard type manner despite having a rose firmly clamped between his teeth, although the more logical part of my brain does accept that - sadly - this is probably not the case.

And finally, my own kitchen will be serving up fillet steak with Nigella's Date Steak sauce, followed by the salted caramel and chocolate pots I've noted in one of this month's foodie magazines. Although, ONLY if Mr Liz gets himself to the garage and procures a gaudy card and a wistful-looking bear, obviously...

Mr Khandoker Takes us Back to the 80s in the Great Curry Roll-Back

So, 1983. I've got to be honest, I don't really have many clear memories of 1983; I was alive, certainly, and probably perfectly happy in my little corner of Somerset, still rocking the NHS spectacle look and still too young to realise that just because your granny has made you a crochet dress doesn't mean you have to agree to wear it.

But in terms of wider cultural references, what is there, really, so say about 1983? I mean, there was no Royal Wedding, and no princes were born during this year. It's far too soon for Back To the Future, and as I'm a girl I have no interest in some geeky space film called Return of the Jedi. True by Spandau Ballet is in the charts, but to admit to liking it would mean a slow, mortifying, humiliating death in the playground. Boy George is on Top of the Pops, and my grandma actually asks if he's a boy or a girl. Frankie goes to Hollywood are causing similar trouble with Relax; my youthful opinion on both ground-breaking, controversial songs is that they are both a bit rubbish as they don't really rhyme properly. I do have a strong, abiding memory of Ronnie Corbett dressed up as Boy George singing "Do you really want to squirt me, do you really want to make me wet"; I consider this to be much better than the original.

So I'm pleased to say that I have found something both significant and marvellous about the year-that-time-forgot: Khandoker curry house first opened its doors, and began serving hungry Mancunians some of the best curry around. Of course, at the time this meant nothing to the small girl in Somerset in the crochet dress, but it certainly means a lot to her now, particularly as lovely Mr Khandoker is doing one of his legendary price roll-backs to celebrate. This means that every weeknight during October you can order selected items from the menu at 1983 prices: starters including Chicken Tikka and Onion Bhaji are £1.95 each, curries such as Chicken Rogan Josh are £4.95, and chips (and admit it - who doesn't love chips with curry) are a risible 35 pence.

It is also worth noting that the flyer for this promotion says "help us celebrate our 28th birthday in style", above a photograph of certainly the least stylish people I have ever seen; did people really use to wear heart-shaped plastic spectacles adorned with slats not dissimilar to the blinds in my spare room? Even the crochet dress looked better than this. Anyway, you may want to give the fancy dress a miss - particularly as the look du jour also seemed to include accessorising the wacky specs with a neon visor - but get yourself down to Bramhall or Didsbury pronto to take advantage of the 80s prices without the pain of the accompanying fashion and the annoyance of the non-rhyming lyrics...

- Khandoker is at 10 Fir Road, Bramhall, and 812 Kingsway, East Didsbury.

The Khandoker Charity Banquet 2011

As regular readers will know, I am by nature a most selfless and public-spirited individual. Take last night as an example; although I warn you, tissues may be needed to mop up the tears that are sure to well when you hear of my tireless giving.

For last night, I ate curry for charity. Yes, yes, I know - modesty prevents me from accepting your plaudits quite as readily as I would like, but you are absolutely right to applaud me. To be fair, we should perhaps applaud Mr Khandoker as well; every year he holds a charity banquet at his superlative Khandoker curryhouses in Didsbury and Bramhall in aid of a worthy cause - this year it's the local charity Retrak, based in Stockport.

The idea is simple. You turn up, pay £14.95, and in return Mr Khandoker (or one of his fleet of amiable staff) brings you poppadoms, a mixed starter (onion bhaji, sheek kebab, chicken tikka etc etc, and some token salad that no-one will eat), your choice of any curry, rice and naan bread. You hoover up all the delicious food, leave complaining of a full tummy, and Mr K then gives the entire £14.95 to the charity.

Whilst it does seem to be pushing it a little to call this a "5 course" banquet, this really does seem to be quite the easiest way of giving to charity. The money raised will allow 24 Greater Manchester police officers to travel out to Ethiopia and Uganda for nine days in November (in their own time) to work with street children who badly need their help; one of the officers came for a chat with us while we were troughing, and I think we all felt a little in awe of someone so willing to give up so much of their time to help others - we all tried to look earnest and worthwhile ourselves, quite a difficult task when you're basically just a greedy person with a curry.

Still, you know me - always happy to go the extra mile. And with that in mind, I have promised to go again next week - just, you know, to really do my bit *awaits medal*

The banquet is available at the Didsbury restaurant tonight, and next Monday and Tuesday (13th and 14th June) - call 0161 434 3596 to book; the Bramhall restaurant is running the banquet tonight, tomorrow, and next Tuesday and Wednesday (14th and 15th June) - 0161 439 1050. Go on - you know it's the right thing to do *noble face*

Gypsies of Bohemia, Last Day at Silver Apples, and an ENORMOUS Kathmandu Curry

There are two sayings which I have absolutely no time for.

The first of these is the nonsensical idea that all good things must come to an end, a notion clearly devised by some killjoy with a very limited capacity for fun, or perhaps just very demanding children. Its replacement should obviously be something along the lines of "all good things must go on forever, or at least until I tire of them and move my attention elsewhere", and by this token I think we can all agree that yesterday, and the closing of the Silver Apples bar on Burton Road in West Didsury, was a sad day.

Silver Apples opened its lovely doors a cruelly short time ago in 2008, and quickly established itself as a mecca for anyone interested in Belgian beer, a slice or two of homemade cake, or a fine tasty pie; indeed, this gorgeous, laid-back bar was one of the main reasons we started walking (yes, walking) across the border into the West on a regular basis last summer. Only fitting, then, that its last day should be something special - and really, we couldn't have asked for more (apart from them staying open, and NEVER CHANGING etc etc, but that seems a little childish.)

And so we spent a very pleasant few hours yesterday afternoon drinking Vedett (well, that was me - Mr Liz seemed to realise he was on borrowed time and consequently appeared to be on a mission to try every single different beer behind the bar) and listening to the pleasingly eccentric sounds of Gypsies of Bohemia - three blokes, two guitars, one double bass and a set list ranging from Fiddler on the Roof to Radiohead via Britney Spears. It is impossible to imagine how any bar that steps into Silver Apples' vacated premises could possibly live up to its predecessor - it certainly has big shoes to fill.

Meanwhile, the team behind Silver Apples will be working on new projects in the area - I am sworn to secrecy for now, but will tell more as soon as I'm allowed. Suffice to say good luck to Rob, Kate and Sarah, albeit said whilst pulling a slightly sulky face at their sheer selfishness in closing such a lovely place.

The second saying that clearly has no place in any sensible person's repertoire is that absence makes the heart grow fonder, a meaningless maxim probably coined by some Gareth Cheeseman-type to justify all those "business trips" to his wife. And yet...maybe there is some truth in it after all. Last night we ate at the Great Kathmandu on Burton Road, which we hadn't visited for ages - mainly due to the hit-and-miss service (oh, and alright, we moved house as well, making its location slightly less convenient) and the fact that I had eaten everything on the menu at least 86 times (and some items many, many more.)

And it was perfect. Firstly, the waiter remembered us (although, admittedly, this is not always a good sign when it comes to restaurants where one may or may not have consumed substantial quantities of wine); secondly, the service was slick, friendly and efficient; thirdly, the food was as good as ever. If there is a finer dish than the Kathmandu's Aloo Chilli on any menu, anywhere, please tell me immediately (and bring a little of it to try, obviously.)

In fact, I have but one complaint. When we walked past Silver Apples, all set to rejoin our friends to dance the night away at the private party, it struck me that I could barely walk for fulled-up-ness, let alone throw the attractive shapes on the dance floor for which I am internationally celebrated. So curse you, Kathmandu, and your generously-portioned, thoroughly gorgeous food; without you, I would probably still be at Silver Apples now, clinging on to one of the pews and staunchly refusing to leave.

Curry Night at The Didsbury

Obviously, a CPD - Continuing Professional Development - day provides the chance for the sharing of ideas and good practice, and the discussion of effective strategies for future improvement. It also provides a day off timetable, thereby opening up a hitherto unavailable treat: Thursday Curry Night at The Didsbury. As you no doubt already know, I am a principled soul, and one of my unwavering tenets is not to eat curry on a school night, on the basis that I am partial to garlic naan and it's simply not fair to inflict that upon any student who may rashly summon me over to check their work the following morning.

Mr Liz has for some time been looking sorrowfully at the menu for Curry Night, with the air of a man who has undergone great hardship and suffering in a cruel, unfeeling world. So he was most keen to exploit the chance to finally give it a try; indeed, the speed with which he selected his chosen dishes from the aforementioned menu suggested that he had already mentally pre-ordered, many times, just in case the opportunity should ever arise. The way it works is this: for £9.99 each, you may choose two small curries from the menu, which are then served with rice, naan and two onion bhaji, as well as a drink (wine, Cobra or - Mr Liz scoffed at this - a soft drink.)

I chose Butternut Squash Dhansak and Achari Chicken for my two dishes, while my husband went for Beef Curry and - he can't help copying me - Achari Chicken. All the curries were good, and although the dishes looked small when they arrived we found that they were actually very filling - I was forced to leave most of my naan, and this fact, in conjunction with one of my curries being made of actual vegetables, probably means I actually lost a little weight over the course of the evening (what with the walk to and from the car and everything.)

I am still generally sceptical about the whole concept of eating curry in a pub, particularly in an area that is so well served with amazingly good curry houses. Yet Curry Night does offer very good value for money in nicely convivial surroundings, and the number of people partaking of the offer (on a school night! a school night!) suggests that many others agree. More details on The Didsbury's website; you won't see me there on a Thursday for a while, but I do suspect Mr Liz is already checking my diary for my next CPD day...

Khandoker Welcomes Gorgeous Girls' Curry Night

At this time of year, reaching Friday evening in one piece is increasingly something of an achievement. And how better to celebrate the advent of two whole days off than with the resurrection of Girls’ Curry Night? This used to be a regular event, a gathering of some of the most brilliant female minds in Manchester, coming together in a meeting of ferocious intellect in order to solve the world’s problems. And drink wine.

The premise is a simple one, subject to the following conditions:
- you have to be a girl in order to attend
- you have to like drinking wine in my living room whilst sampling an assortment of nibbles and laughing in a ribald manner
- you have to like curry.

Obviously, in this tricky period following GreyGate I should perhaps be wary of opening myself up to charges of sexism; in fact, Mr Liz is whining about inequality at this very moment, pointing out that he satisfies two of the three conditions for Girls’ Curry Night but is unable – through no fault of his own – to fulfil the first. Still, what can I do? The clue is in the name; it’s not called Girls’ Oh But A Few Boys Are Allowed As Well I Suppose Curry Night, and with very good reason. This is an evening where boys are allowed to act as chauffeurs, admire our shoes, and then leave.

Last night’s Girls’ Curry Night was a triumphant affair, with several ladies showing exceptional bravery in the face of illness, adversity and tooth ache. Our venue of choice was Khandoker, who were clearly delighted by the arrival of so many merry ladies at their family-friendly restaurant, and also perceptively spotted that several of us were dangerously undernourished, despite the array of nibbles thoughtfully provided chez Liz; at any rate, the piles of poppadoms they brought us reached pretty much to the ceiling.

Mr Khandoker himself brought our wine. I have always said he is a fine fellow, and once he had poured our wine and retreated we noticed – and this is nothing to do with me – that my wine glass was a giant amongst minnows, towering over its miniature brethren, boasting of its ability to hold twice as much wine as any of the others. Remember Alan Partridge’s Big Plate? This was Liz’s Big Glass – bravo, Mr Khandoker.

The food was exceptional, as ever. Starters included Tandoori Chicken, Lamb Tikka, Meat Somosa and Onion Bhaji in generously sized portions; indeed, some of the ladies had to leave a little of their side salad in order to save space and calories. Turned out were wise to save room for the mains, which included a fantastically spicy King Prawn Jalfrezi, Kakri Chicken with melt-in-the-mouth aubergines, and - best of all - Esa Palong, king prawns nestling seductively in a come-hither bed of really very good for you spinach.

Just as well I ate all those vegetables – I was unable to enjoy my usual power walk home as a helpful boy belonging to one of the ladies was obligingly waiting in the car park ready to give lifts. And before men across Britain rise up and lynch me, I must point out that whilst my husband may indeed have brought me tea in bed both last night and this morning, I am very busy this morning doing chores. At least, I will be once I’ve finished writing this, promise.

- Khandoker is at 812 Kingsway, East Didsbury, Manchester M20 5WY, tel 0161 434 3596.

New Year, New Diary, New Primeval, Same Old Greed

Ah, New Year's Day. Across Britain, people are waking to one of two trains of thought: a/ did I really drink that much, who are you, and where are my shoes, or b/ who on earth was the crazy lady on with Jools Holland, has Kylie put on a bit of weight, and thank God for Plan B. I myself fall in to the second camp - I am not a fan of going out on New Year's Eve. I object immensly to pubs and bars you have patronised all year suddenly charging you to get in just because it's NYE; I dislike crowded places where I can't have a nice sit down and actually hear the people I'm with; and I also appear to live in an area where taxis become as rare as rocking horse waste product after midnight. Although, fair play to The Didsbury, who refused to charge and were therefore, quite rightly, apparently packed out before 9pm.

Thus, I am as fresh as a daisy today, on one of my favourite days of the year - New Year's Day. I have read a terribly high-brow, mind-improving book (oh, OK then, Jo Nesbo's The Snowman - at least it's seasonal), spent a happy hour writing important dates onto the enticingly virginal pages of my new Moleskine diary (to my horror, the Spring Term appears to be MASSIVE, almost as big as China), and remarked with pleasure that a new series of Primeval has begun. Primeval is proper Saturday night telly, although my husband likes to knock it on the grounds that it's terribly unrealistic that all the anomalies appear within a very small area of central London. He has also just remarked to me now, as we watch it off the hard drive, that Andrew-Lee Potts would have more facial hair after a year in the wilderness. I try to resist the urge to point out to him that these quibbles really are pointless - THEY ARE INVESTIGATING ANOMALIES! BREACHES IN TIME AND SPACE! WITH DINOSAURS RUNNING ABOUT IN THEM!

Anyway, we have also been out this evening, to the mighty Khandoker curry house in East Didsbury. The number of customers suggested that many are catching on to our way of thinking - stay in on NYE and go out on NYD - and went some way to proving the theory that people fed on nothing but turkey, sprouts and roast potatoes for a week will pretty much sell their soul for a curry. The food was as good as ever: we had pappadums (obviously), tandoori chicken for me and chicken puri for him, and chicken shabji style and chicken tikka massalla (husband clearly in post-Christmas ironic mode) for mains. The food here is simply delicious and the service friendly and charming; just the job to see in 2011 and trump in the face of any dreary New Year resolutions. So raise a glass with me, and herald the dawn of a new year in which I shall, no doubt, repeat exactly the same patterns of ill behaviour as last year. Oh well.

- Khandoker is at 812 Kingsway, East Didsbury, Manchester M20 5WY, tel 0161 434 3596 or visit the website at http://www.khandokerrestaurant.co.uk.

Manchester Mondays Looking Up

OK, so hands up if you like Mondays.

*VERY brief pause for counting show of hands*

Thought as much. Unless you work silly shifts and somehow get Monday off, there is surely no worse feeling than knowing you now have to get up early for the next five days in a row, AND when you get to work the detritus left over from when you couldn't be bothered to do anything because it was Friday will still be all over your desk. Sigh.

And yet...if you can actually get through Monday itself, a number of options for celebrating this fact are now available. I have spoken many times before about Love2Eat Deli and its Monday Night Supper Club, and will continue to extol its virtues despite the recent £3 price hike: you now get main course, dessert and a glass of wine for a still reasonable £10 a head. We went last Monday, when I had the most delicious meatballs I have ever tasted, and my husband had a steak and peppercorn pie that caused him not to utter a single word during the time he took to eat it. One criticism - the dinky casserole dishes that the meatballs and stews are served in? Can't get the last bit of dinner out of them - impossible using either cutlery or direct application of face (have tried both).

And now, for November only, another possibility unfolds for the hitherto redundant Monday night. Esteemed Didsbury curryhouse Khandoker is celebrating its 27th birthday this month (same as me, ahem), and although this does seem a massively random birthday to make a fuss of - I've never seen a card congratulating anyone on the big two seven - it would be churlish not to support what they are doing for it. For they are inviting us to step back in time to 1983 and enjoy a meal with them on any Monday or Tuesday in November at 1983 prices (I'll have to take their word for this - I only really deigned to eat butterscotch flavoured Angel Delight back in the early eighties), and this means starters at £1.95, mains at £4.95 and sundries such as chapattis for 15 pence.

There is no mention of whether Mr Khandoker would like his guests to dress up in appropriately 1980s garb, but I like to think that people will make an effort and at least backcomb their hair a little before venturing out to eat. The offer is running at both the Didsbury and the Bramhall restaurants; come on good folk of Didsbury, dig out those batwing jumpers and lets show the Cheshire lot how it's done...

- Love2Eat is at 190a Burton Road, West Didsbury, Manchester M20 1LH; you should book for Supper Club on 0161 434 7077 (but not until after I've reserved my table, please)

- Khandoker is at 812 Kingsway, Manchester M20 5WY; tel. 0161 434 3596.

Local Girl Promotes Healthy Lifestyle at Nemaste Nepal

So. After a long and hard-fought campaign, you have deservedly made it through to the finals of Miss World. You have posed winsomely with sick children and injured pets; you have gushed breathlessly about kindness and the importance of helping old people across the road; you have even mastered the art of walking in heels, wearing a bikini, and holding your stomach in for periods upwards of thirty minutes. There is just one more hurdle to clear; a nice chat on camera. "So, my dear, what do you most desire in life?"

Oh, such a tricky one. World peace? A cure for cancer? An end to injustice and inequality?

I fear this may be why I have never won Miss World. For often, what I desire more than anything else, more than anything in the whole world, is a nice dish of Makhan Chara as made by either The Great Kathmandu or its sister restaurant Nemaste Nepal.

These two mighty restaurants are found in Burton Road in West Didsbury, just waiting to prey upon people who have been to Oktoberfest at Silver Apples and have not eaten since 11am, and are therefore weak. I found myself in this helpless position last night; two beers at Oktoberfest, another outside Folk with the estimable Didsbury Life, and my resolve was non-existent. And since my husband flatly refuses to even entertain the idea of Great Kathmandu since a waiter once spilt oil down the back of his shirt and then denied all knowledge of it, Nemaste Nepal it was.

I'm a bit worried that Nemaste Nepal appears to be up for sale; I've always preferred this much larger, calmer restaurant over its rather casual brother just up the road (hey, maybe service will be good tonight; maybe we'll just ignore you...who knows?) but it WAS very quiet, far too quiet for a Friday night. I can only think that most people were at home watching the Ultimate Big Brother final, although it makes me sad to think this.

However, the food was as good as ever. Makhan Chara is a dish I occasionally actually dream about eating; you can buy it at other restaurants but it's always disappointing - the only other place that even comes close to getting it right is The Third Eye on Wilmslow Road in Didsbury, and even there it lacks something. This makes me worry that Nemaste Nepal are simply putting some kind of highly addictive ingredient into theirs; I can't think why else I would hanker after a dish that appears to be made entirely from tomatoes and cream - I don't even LIKE cream. Yet there's something about this unctious concoction that makes me forget that every mouthful contains enough calories to support a third-world country for a week, and that this is unlikely to be negated by simply walking home rather than taxiing (still, ever hopeful.)

I hate to admit that I couldn't finish it all last night; and it shames me even more to admit that if I'd brought it home in a doggy-bag, I'd be eating it cold right now. I think the Miss World crown might just elude me for another year at least.

- Nemaste Nepal is at 164-166 Burton Road, West Didsbury, Manchester M20 1LH; tel. 0161 445 9060.

Top Curry at The Third Eye, Didsbury

When I was a student I lived in Rusholme, in a big drafty flat with luridly coloured mould growing up one wall and a small family of mice living in the kitchen. I also had a profound dislike for curry. I was the one who would shame-facedly order chicken and chips off the English menu, flinching slightly if anyone else's jalfrezi came near me, feeling left out and miserable.

By the time I moved out of Rusholme four years later, I was of course a curry convert, and my obsession is now such that I have to have my fix at least once a week lest withdrawal symptoms begin. I must admit to hardly ever going to Rusholme these days, although if I ever drive along that section of Wilmslow Road I am practically slavering by the time I've driven out again. The main problem with Rusholme, I find, is that I am too stupid to actually remember which curry houses there are the best ones; in other words, I get confused by the array of neon-lit facades and lose the ability to recall which might be my favourite.

Luckily, South Manchester is well served with curry houses. Last night I was out with a friend known both for his fearsome drinking ability and his great love of curry, so walking into Didsbury seemed a sensible option. Despite the cold and the drizzle, Didsbury was busier than I've seen it for a while; we started at The Fletcher Moss, which is always pleasantly buzzy but was particularly cheery last night, full of affable types drinking pints of mild and perusing the books that are always on sale here in aid of Francis House Hospice (honestly, you wouldn't believe the amount of rubbish I've bought here during a night out).

Our next venue, The Dog and Partridge, was less enjoyable: the combination of a sulky barmaid with a large table of braying loudmouths next to us meant the atmosphere was a little less convivial. I do recall having a quite detailed conversation here about my theory of Brian May - that he would have been taken a lot more seriously a whole lot earlier if he'd only cut his hair. Thoughts on this please?

Our final destination was The Third Eye, where they found us a table immediately and plied us with poppadoms in that sneaky way that curry houses have. The food here is excellent, and while it used to be a slightly poor second to the mighty Great Kathmandu in terms of local Nepalese restaurants, it has now not only caught up but apparently overtaken the Kathmandu if recent reviews are to be believed.

I had the Chicken Pakoda Fritters to start but actually ended up eating most of my husband's Paneer Chilli as well, and then the Makhan Fish for main (with the calories of the rich creamy sauce completely atoned for by my selection of fish rather than meat, obviously). The real star of the table, however, was the humble Vegetable Rice - we ordered two portions between the three of us, but the mountain of rice that arrived would easily have fed about six people. As the plate ended up next to me on the table (fools!) I was able to fork out all the highlights - enormous pieces of silky aubergine, cashew nuts, great lumps of cauliflower etc - with relatively little chance of discovery or retribution.

The bill was £55 for the three of us - pretty reasonable for such a repast, and no need for a taxi home. The rate I'm going, I may never end up leaving South Manchester again...I will try to do better, I promise.