Mr Trotter's Pork Crackling Dinner AND 30 Years of the Hacienda: Local Girl May as Well MOVE IN to Harvey Nichols Manchester

Now, I've not yet spoken to the powers-that-be, but it strikes me that I have come up with a most lucrative premise for an exciting new TV show - I'm pretty sure it will spark a bidding war and more or less line my coffers for the rest of my life. Loosely based on the "Dancing with the Stars" format, my own, thoroughly original show is provisionally entitled "Accidentally Hob-Nobbing with the Stars", and features a jaunty young girl (preferably me - I do own the format, after all) hanging around a classy venue, drinking wine and waiting to bump into famous people.

And based on this week's experiences, the most promising venue looks to be the Manchester branch of Harvey Nichols; which, coincidentally, is a most convenient location for me to get to for filming, should I be appointed to star in the show. To wit, consider the following evidence:

Thursday night saw the Menswear department transformed into a splendidly middle-class, middle-aged tribute to the Hacienda - frankly, I'd go clubbing a lot more these days if I could dance in a corner of Harvey Nichols, drinking Prosecco and eating mini cones of fish and chips, between the hours of 6 and 9pm. The event marked the start of the 30th birthday celebrations in honour of the legendary club's original opening in 1982 - Ellesse have produced a limited edition polo shirt with buttons made from bits of the Hacienda building (who kept these bits? and did they think they might come in useful as buttons for polo shirts a few years down the line? that's foresight at its FINEST). Mr Liz saw the cost and refused to buy me one, citing the reason that, apparently, polo shirts "don't suit" me rather than 'fessing up to the actual, "yes, I AM too mean" reason. Anyway, there was a fantastic Q & A session with Peter Hook, Graeme Park, Ange Matthews and Anton Razak, chaired by John Robb, followed by DJ sets from Hooky and Parky (I can use these nicknames as am budding TV star) - a fine night was had by all, although I must remember not to ask some bloke who turns out to be Peter Hook to move out the way of a photograph I am taking when the film crew are actually present.

Friday night looked similarly promising - an event I previewed a few weeks ago with breathless anticipation had finally arrived, in the form of the Mr Trotter's Pork Crackling Dinner hosted in the Second Floor Restaurant by Tom Parker Bowles and Matthew Fort. To be honest, I'd have needed the film crew with me from the very start for this one: the lift took an age to come down from the second floor, and when it eventually did arrive, it was packed to the very gills with a fleet of perma-tanned, middle-aged American men sheltering a precious cargo in their midst - a twinkly eyed, curly haired, nut brown Barry Manilow. "Ooh!" said a friend, later. "Did you start singing that you were Lola, a show girl?" The brief answer to this is, no, I did not: firstly, I didn't think of it in time, and secondly, I can't be expected to perform when the cameras aren't there - I shall save it all for when the show is actually in the bag.

So, after the bonus Barry, on to the main business of the evening. Food writers Matthew Fort and Tom Parker Bowles have brought their new brand of pork scratchings to the Harvey Nichols Foodmarket, a momentous occasion suitably marked with a special porcine dinner thrown in Mr Trotter's honour. We kicked off with drinks in the Brasserie bar where - splendidly - gorgeous staff glided round bearing elegant trays containing bags of Mr Trotter's scratchings for us to delicately rummage in; I'm no expert on pork scratchings, but these struck me as a highly superior breed - generously sized, tasting of pork rather than just salt and fat, and with just the right amount of crunch (no-one wants to lose a filling in front of a respected food critic, after all). It also turns out that, in the hands of a cheffy genius like Sam Everett, they can be seamlessly incorporated into a three course gourmet dinner (always useful to know, in the unlikely event of actually managing to prise any bag of scratchings from Mr Liz's eager paws) - this is what we had:

Starter: Scallops served with black pudding, Mr Trotter's Pork Scratching and herb salad. Now, it takes real imagination to understand that a pork scratching can be used to make a devastatingly delicious crispy topping for a tender, fleshy young scallop as seen here. And yes, how cute is that little roll of black pudding? You may also be unsurprised to know that the accompanying sauce was SO delicious I was forced to run my finger round the plate whilst the imaginary film crew were busy doing some general location shots.

Main: Pork loin, served with confit pork belly, pig's cheek hash brown and a Mr Trotter’s Pork Scratching. This clearly wasn't a meal for non pork-eaters, but for me, this dish really showed off how versatile a meat this is - soft, pillowy loin perched atop a meltingly unctuous slab of pork belly, guarded by perky little piggy towers. Spectacular.

Dessert: Baked egg custard, served with Mr Trotter's Pork Scratching Brittle, chocolate mousse and maple granite. In truth, this was the one we'd been waiting for - how would pork scratchings fare in a sweet course? Actually, of course, it's perfectly logical - anyone who's ever had salted caramel will instantly understand that sprinkling crushed pork scratching on top of a thick layer of chocolate mousse can only be a good thing: a sort of savoury, porky popping candy if you will. I think Muller Corners are missing a trick with this one, and look forward to see Pig Corners joining the existing Fruit version in the near future *quickly patents idea*.

But, I know what you're thinking - that the food sounds all well and good, but where are the stars? Well, first of all there was Matthew Fort, gamely making a circuit of the restaurant to talk piggy goodness with everyone, clearly mindful of his responsibilities as host of the event. And then there was Tom Parker Bowles, who plonked himself down at our table (I suppose actually it's entirely possible that we were sitting at HIS table) and proceeded to entertain us for three hours with a number of stories that I can't possibly repeat here other than to say he likes Game of Thrones and enjoys being told he bears a passing resemblance to Kiefer Sutherland.

So, I think you'll agree that my fledgling career as top TV mogul is off to a promising start - with one disappointing omission. I've still not met Mr Trotter, but don't worry, I'll track him down - and this time I'll make sure the cameras are rolling...

- Harvey Nichols is at 21 New Cathedral Street Manchester M1 1AD.

Mr Trotter's Pork Crackling Dinner at Harvey Nichol's Second Floor Restaurant: Local Girl Set to Brave THE SCRATCHING

As should be manifestly obvious by now, I am a good, loyal and above all SELFLESS wife, wholly committed to making Mr Liz's life as pleasant as possible in every conceivable way*.

*if his wants, needs etc coincide with what I was planning to do anyway.

Take, for example, the way in which I have nobly adapted my own food tastes to accommodate his own, Northern-man preferences - I now don't mind a bit of a dabble with a tasty black pudding, and just last week I was to be found bravely forcing down large measures of whisky JUST so we could have something in common *swiftly deletes Liquorists' Whisky Trail post, in which I am to be found dancing aloft a table proclaiming the joys of Jack Daniels*.

This pretty much just leaves one last bastion to scale - the mighty fortress of the pork scratching. Now, I've never really understood the allure of this particular snack, although on the rare occasions Mr Liz spots a bag of scratchings behind a pub counter, his reaction is something akin to that of the small boy on the Disneyland advert who can't sleep because he's TOO EXCITED - imagine wide eyes, lots of sleeve tugging, plaintive cries of "look! look!" Even Scampi-flavoured Fries don't mesmerise him to quite the same extent.

The more cynical amongst you may suspect an ulterior motive in my sudden urge to tackle the world of the scratching; "why now?", you may be asking, or even perhaps "what's in it for you?" Well, nothing; it is a completely unrelated coincidence that on Friday May 18th Harvey Nichols Second Floor Restaurant (by some amazing fluke, one of my favourite places to eat) is hosting a three course "Pork Crackling Dinner" to celebrate the fact that the Food Shop now stocks Mr Trotter's Great British Pork Crackling - a joyous-looking bag of salty porcine goodness, on the front of which poses an imperious looking pig who clearly knows what a fine figure he cuts in his Union Jack waistcoat. This, presumably, is Mr Trotter himself, although whether he oversees the whole operation or is actually the one offering up bits of his own body for us to eat is not entirely clear.

The brains behind the brand, food writers Tom Parker Bowles and Matthew Fort, will be on hand to tell us more about the joys of scratching throughout the evening - I wish them luck, as I can envisage them battling against a tide of hungry boys who do not wish to learn ANYTHING about pork scratchings other than: where are my scratchings? can I have more scratchings? can I eat my wife's scratchings when she goes to the loo? haven't I seen you off the telly? why has that man got more scratchings than me? ad infinitum.

Head Chef Sam Everett has put together a lovely-sounding menu designed to showcase Mr Trotter's in all its glory - here's what's planned:

Starter

Scallops
Black pudding, Mr Trotter’s Pork Scratching, herb salad (I already know which bit of this Mr Liz will be trying to make me swap in exchange for my scratching)

Main

Pork loin
Confit pork belly, pig's cheek hash brown, Mr Trotter’s Pork Scratching

Dessert

Mr Trotter’s Pork Scratching baked custard (I know it's wrong, but this one excites me greatly, not least for the hope that Manchester gets a taste for it and Greggs etc are forced to add bacon to their custard tarts)
Chocolate mousse, Maple granite.

Places cost £30 per head - see the website for more details of how to book. Frankly, if anything is going to convert me, it's this - a gorgeously refined dinner, flawlessly served by sleek, professional staff in the luxurious environment of the Second Floor Restaurant. If only I didn't know, in my heart of hearts, that I'm bound to end up leaving with a man whose pockets are stuffed to bursting with bags of Mr Trotter's to eat noisily on the night bus...

Not Afternoon Tea at Harvey Nichols, Manchester: Local Boy Saved From Shopping Nightmare

There are certain words in the English Language that work harder than all the others put together. Add them to any other word and they instantly bring pleasure - take "and chips", for example: such simple words, yet when affixed to any innocently passing pie, fish or similar they guarantee a most excellent experience lies ahead.

"Afternoon" is a similarly selfless, industrious sort of word. Try appending it to "nap", and instantly picture yourself reclining on the sofa with a pot of tea and a somnolent cat on your lap. Now pop it in front of "drinking", and immediately it is a sunny Bank Holiday which you are spending in a beer garden with your nearest and dearest, secure in the knowledge that you are SAVING money as every alcoholic drink consumed between the hours of midday and 4pm counts double. So imagine my initial suspicion when Harvey Nichols announced that their estimable Second Floor Brasserie would now be serving something called "Not Afternoon Tea" - NOT Afternoon Tea? NOT dainty sandwiches, and little cakes, and so many cups of tea you have to use the toilet at least twice before you leave? NOT all of this?

Of course, I should have trusted them. This is NOT a replacement for Afternoon Tea, which continues to be served in the restaurant, but an alternative, to be used when in the company of those with more modest appetites, or boys who refuse to go for Afternoon Tea because they think they look silly eating dollies' picnic-sized food items (which, to be fair, they do). The idea is as follows: turn up between 2pm and 5pm, clutching £12.50, and in return you will receive a stunning dessert matched with a complementing cocktail. Yep, that's right - not a chance of a stray bit of healthy salad etc, just classy booze and pud served up in the always-buzzing atmosphere of the Brasserie.

We tried it last Saturday, when Mr Liz had already been dragged around the shops for several hours by a wife who was about to cruelly abandon him for Italy and was rubbing salt into the wound by making him queue with her for travel money on a Saturday. Just as his eyes were about to glaze over, he was rescued in the nick (there's an excellent pun here if you would care to stop and enjoy it for a moment) of time by the killer combination of the chocolate & caramel dessert option (dark chocolate pave, white chocolate créme brulee, peanut butter marshmallow and salted caramel macaroon) paired with Milk Punch (Kraken Black Spiced Rum, Crème de Cacao, Mozart Dark Chocolate Liqueur, vanilla sugar, chocolate bitters, milk and cream). Such was the power of this extraordinary combination that it completely wiped the pain of the hour that had just been spent showing polite interest in bags and shoes in Top Shop from his fevered man-brow.

Meanwhile, his good lady wife had the sticky toffee dessert (milk chocolate mousse, sticky toffee pudding, maple syrup jelly, fresh date and a belgium slice) partnered by the Dark 'n’ Stormy cocktail (Goslings Black Seal Rum, homemade gingerbeer, lime and soda). Such was the power of this extraordinary combination that it completely restored her energy levels ready for a new assualt on the bags and shoes department of Top Shop, although she was a little disappointed that the "fresh date" did not actually turn out to be a night on the town with a man with excessively wandering hands.

There are two other combinations to try - a jaunty-sounding citrus affair, and a flirty little tutti frutti number - so we'll obviously have to go back another time. NEVER has Mr Liz been so keen for another day spent shopping in Manchester...

- for more information and latest menus, see the Harvey Nichols website - then go for some VERY classy Afternoon Drinking.

Harvey Nichols Food Hall: Utopia, Part Two

Obviously, most of the time my brain is occupied with meaningful, deeply cerebral matters; the nature of the universe, for example, or the influence of Proust on modern European literature. Actually, that's not true. I spend pretty much every waking moment thinking about food; indeed, I often lie in bed at night, happily planning the meals I will eat the next day (or indeed, week). Under these circumstances, the fact I have today spent six hours in the Harvey Nichols Foodmarket should be something of a cause for concern; I believe, in fact, that three school-leavers have been employed tonight specifically to restock the empty shelves that I have left in my wake.

My reasons for such gluttony are, of course, entirely selfless. New products need trying, and I am the brave person to - as Rio Ferdinand would say - step up to the mantelpiece. Here are just a few things that you might like to try:

1. Yee Kwan Handcrafted Ice Cream and Sorbets. Yee is a Sheffield-based lady who makes the most delicious ices using natural flavours and a base mix that is only 6.5% fat (although, frankly, when you read the whole sorry list of what I ate today, such concerns seem entirely superfluous). I liked ALL the flavours I tried (which, bless her, Yee patiently served up without a trace of a "for goodness sake, how much can one woman eat" expression on her face), including the award-winning Black Sesame Seed ice cream, but my very favourite - the Avocado & Chilli sorbet - is not stocked by HN: yet. I plan to wear the buyers down by simply going up to all staff in the food market and saying "AVOCADO AND CHILLI SORBET PLEASE" until my demands are met and this amazing savoury sorbet is safely on the shelves. Full details are available on Yee's website.

2. HN Panforte. Apparently, people only buy panforte - a traditional Tuscan cake - at Christmas, which seems to leave eleven and a half months of the year cruelly unaccounted for. I tried the Chocolate & Cherry, and then the Hazelnut & Fig; I was particularly taken with the latter, which would be perfect served in thin slivers with cheese (obviously tell your guests it was a terribly small panforte, to account for the slices that you will inevitably have eaten while carving it up). They look and taste beautiful, and don't be put off by the £7.95 price tag - one of these will go a long way (the HN lady estimated it would feed twelve, although I would privately reduce this a little for those with, ahem, substantial appetites). Lovely picture here.

3. Assorted Alcohol. By now it was gone 11.30, and therefore a perfectly respectable time to sidle over to the alcohol tables. I loved the HN Pinot Noir, and also spent a happy time with Caroline of Chase Distillery, a Herefordshire-based company whose vodka has been voted the best in the world. I can confirm that their Apple Gin and Rhubarb and Raspberry Liqueurs are just as good, although obviously I wouldn't normally touch such things before lunch *brave, selfless, I-do-it-all-for-you face*

4. Assorted Deli Items. The deli counter at Harvey Nicks is a thing of great beauty, a place I have often been tempted to sneak into at night, only to be discovered in a happy olive-based coma the following morning; honestly, this is where I would go if I was a teensy tiny Borrower. Anyway, the Cashel Blue cheese is immense, as are the fresh anchovies; both of which, sadly, were just too smelly to allow me to surreptitiously sweep the lot into my handbag.

We were also lucky enough to sample a cocktail masterclass, in which I made a frankly VERY good Mojito (although, to be honest, it's quite easy when someone has already made the sugar syrup and squeezed the limes for you - the hardest bit was getting on, and staying on, the bar stool), and then to have a meal in the Second Floor Restaurant cooked by Head Chef Stuart Thomson. Stuart has deservedly been nominated for Chef of the Year in the upcoming Manchester Food and Drink Awards, with the restaurant itself up for Restaurant of the Year; on the evidence of today's lunch it would be no surprise if either or both were to win. We feasted on smoked salmon, Goosnargh corn fed chicken breast with tomato cassoulet, selected cheeses (including the gorgeous - and aptly named - Smelly Apeth), Hibiscus & Champagne trifle, and - last but not least - a cute "I love HN" cake pop courtesy of Didsbury-based Lollicakes. I made the mistake of taking this home, where - after a hot bus journey - the words had melted into one chocolatey blend; note to self, NEVER put a melting cake pop in the freezer when Mr Liz is due home imminently.

So after all this glorious gluttony, at least I can have a quiet, modest day tomorrow to atone for today's sins; it's not, after all, as if I have a Cheese Festival followed by a six-course Gourmet Dinner at the Addy. Oh no, wait...

Cocktail Triumph at Harvey Nichols, Manchester

One of the best things about Twitter is that you can follow all sorts of lovely bars and restaurants, thereby finding out about tempting deals and irresistible offers. One of the worst things about Twitter is that you can follow all sorts of lovely bars and restaurants, thereby finding out about tempting deals and irresistible offers that cause your purse to start creaking wearily round the edges, threaten the beginnings of the dreaded muffin top, and prompt one's husband to raise a cynical eyebrow once every so often along with a comment such as "oh, so you're home this evening, are you?"

This was the case on Thursday, when I had planned to meet up with a lovely friend for a long-overdue catch-up. All sorts of ideas were mooted; perhaps I would drive up to the rural area where she lives, wearing sensible trainers so that a healthy pursuit such as walking her dog could be attempted. Oh no, wait; Harvey Nichols Second Floor Brasserie is doing three courses plus a Bellini for £20 - clearly we should do this instead.

It's always fun eating at Harvey Nichols; part of the joy, I suspect, comes from the slightly furtive feeling of getting into the secret lift that takes you up to the restaurant when the store itself is closed, particularly as said lift is decorated with Dr Who-esque silver circles that serve the dual function of allowing you to check your lipstick whilst also feeling a bit like Barbarella. Harvey Nicks always do decent summer offers - the current one seems to be this year's version of last year's dangerous "three courses plus unlimited wine for 90 minutes" shebang, an evening that culminated in a friend carefully and kindly helping an old man down the stairs in Sinclair's (much to his annoyance; he had not wished to go downstairs at that particular moment, and had to make his way back up once her back was turned.)

The Second Floor Brasserie shares its location with the rather posher Second Floor Restaurant, but that doesn't mean that the food here isn't lovely - it's just more casual, with tables closer together and minus the gorgeous view that the restaurant offers over Exchange Square. There was a lovely buzz about the Brasserie last night, which was busy without being crowded, and service was sleek and friendly (although more of this later, smirking barman.)

The menu for the £20 Supper Club deal changes every week, but offers five options for each course, and not a dud amongst them. My goats cheese salad starter (see? SALAD - physically losing weight whilst I eat) was simple and delicious, while my friend's mussels were plump and tasty (well, the lone one I managed to wrestle from her clutches was). For mains I chose the Moroccan lamb with couscous, and once again had to ponder one of life's mysteries - why is restaurant couscous nice, while when I make it at home it tastes of sand? The lamb wasn't terribly Moroccan, but it was nicely pink and generously portioned, while the herb-crusted chicken across the table was proclaimed a similar triumph.

We were slowing a little by pudding time, but it's worth noting that although we couldn't manage it, the £20 offer does include cheese as an option without the annoying extra supplement that so many places add on for it. I went for raspberry fool (see? FRUIT - physically losing weight etc etc) with beautiful crumbly shortbread (mmm, could just manage a piece of that now, actually...)

We spent nothing extra on drinks, as a Bellini magically appears at your table when you arrive, and then - terribly excitingly - we had a complimentary cocktail each that I'd won in a Twitter competition the day before. Nothing comes for free however, and to claim my prize I had to utter the following words: "My name is ....... and I'm your Twitter winner". Well, you try saying this with a straight face at the best of times, let alone when you've shared a cheeky bottle of wine in All Bar One already that evening; everyone (including the disloyal friend who was benefitting from said cocktail) seemed to find it most amusing.

The £20 deal runs Tuesday to Saturday until Saturday 28th August, and is well worth trying, as it offers the chance to eat high-quality restaurant food at a frankly ridiculous price. Keep an eye on their website at www.harveynichols.com for further menu updates; I might just have to go again next week....