Sunday, 9 March 2008


When I came to visit Manchester in 1977 the first place I saw was Piccadilly Gardens. It was as if God had gathered all the signs of Armageddon in one place and it still haunts me to this day. So the thought of going there for lunch, albeit in the service of this post, filled me with dread. The gardens have had several facelifts but the ghosts of '77 still linger. Also, Manchester and Mexican food have never had a happy relationship, how 'El Macho' has lasted this long defies reason. So it came as a surprise to come across Barburrito Mexican Grill nestling in amoung the Kros, Rices and Neros. I had a Chicken Burrito with nachos and an over sweet fizzy drink.

Another surprise was that it was, if not authentic, tasty. For true authenticity, I can recommend the Church St Cafe in Old Town, Albuquerque.

But it's a long way to go for a pre 'payday Fopp blowout' snack. Until Church St becomes a chain, which I hope is never, Barburrito will have to do.

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