Turkish Delight

After 23 years of 'evenings only', the Turkish Delight has opened its doors for the discerning Chorlton lunchtime trade. Trying to get over the delights of Albuquerque, it proved to be a welcome diversion from my weekly search for that elusive free-range bird [see the French poulet from 'Out of the Blue']. On a dark, dank Saturday, I was warmed with Sis Kofte, tabbouleh and a bracing Turkish coffee.

It was filling and surprising good value, certainly enough to be a regular post-shopping treat. So, with bird in't hand and an early Easter approaching, I went home a happy bunny. I hope the Turkish Delight keeps its lunchtime doors open long enough to dissuade the maitre'd wishing every customer "Good Evening".

Kellys, Albuquerque

Before I went to New Mexico, a friend commented that if I found a British pub there would it count towards my 80 dinners. The answer was, of course, no; but I did find a pub, Kellys on Route 66. The bright desert sun filled the large diner with light and smiles as we ordered a variety of burgers, sandwiches and drinks. Kellys is a microbrewery and I had an IPA so tasty that it would make a beardy, pipe smoking, CND supporting, card carrying communist, member of CAMRA wince with embarassment. My Philly Steak sandwich was equally as tasty.

I was accompanied on my sojourn by Amelia, Amanda, Dana, Beth and Kathryn, who were a symphony of Southern charm, wit and intelligence
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To them, a simple 'thank y'all'. Now I'm back in Blighty, so onwards to that magic 80. But Albuquerque, with all its fine
restaurants and sweet company, will linger long in the memory.

Uluru

Shopping on a Sunday in Chorlton can be a chore at the best of times, but imagine my horror to find that it had become a free-range-chicken-free zone. Thanks, I suspect, in no small measure to Hugh Foppery-Witlessstool and his recent tirade against foul fowl farming. I couldn't find a bird that had led a blameless life for love nor money, talk about virgins and Nevada whorehouses. To get over the shock, I went to see what Uluru had to offer.Uluru is an Australian bar and grill, and it being the day after Australia Day, very little was the answer. The menu was as rare as a convent girl at a picnic at Hanging Rock. Not for the first time, I had to seek solice at the bottom of a bottle and ordered the last Tooheys from a very hungover barman-it was the day after Australia Day after all.

And very refreshing it was too as I forgot the chicken and contemplated what to have for Sunday tea. I will return to Uluru but, I suspect, it is more billabong than bushtucker.

Persia

The Lord of Food moves in mysterious ways. I was e-mailing Beth in Texas, telling her what a fine institution Sunday lunch is and at the same time, realising that the Official British Army Fitness Programme [see last weeks Guardian] said that thou shall not rest on the 7th day but take a 'brisk' 30 minute walk. I calculated that Persia [just down the road from Coriander] was that distance from my rumbling [and protruding] tummy. So to vanquish hunger and further the cause of fitness, there I headed at a 'brisk' pace.. Persia is a wonderful and well-appointed Iranian restarauant that is thankfully open all Sunday afternoon and evening. Madi showed me to my table.

We talked of many things over the course of my visit, including her admiration of her fellow countryman, Arsenal's Adebayor, her love of United and showed an interest in my journey. If you read this, Madi, thank you.The food was equally delightful as I feasted on Chicken Baghali Polo, Salad Shirazi and a minty Persian tea.

I walked home at a less than brisk pace.

Coriander

Forgive me readers, it has been some time since my last post. Well, you know how it is- post holiday blues, health kicks, credit crunches and that god awful return to work all combined to make me a a little billy-stay-at-home. For my first visit of 2008, I ventured out to the Gothic netherlands of Southern Cemetery and the Coriander Restaurant. It is an authentic Bangladeshi eatery with a homely feel to it serving fresh Bengali dishes such as the rare 'Grand Mother's Beef', which I had with onion and coriander rice washed down with a pint of Cobra-so much for the health kick.

Let me wish you all a happy and prosperous new year. Stay tuned for more adventures as I head for the half way mark plus a special overseas report from Albuquerque in February. Hot dogs and jumping frogs!

Sandbar [part 3]

Well, faithful readers, you've probably noticed that Christmas is upon us once again. For your tireless reporter, this means that many of my potential posts have been thwarted by the seemingly ubiquitious 'Christmas Menu' and for the most part, we all know that this is not a good thing. How many times have we paid £20 a head for a limp slice of Bernard Matthews, a few of those weird tasting roasties and a rock hard mince pie? Not this year for I went to the Sandbar Luncheon Club Christmas Luncheon where Wisia treated us to a Polish festive feast. It was fabulous as it included Pierogis and concluded with Piernik, a delicious Polish honey cake.

An added bonus was the return of Alex [see photo top] who looked after our increasingly Rabelaisian rabble with seasonal good cheer.

To all the good people of the Sandbar, I want to say 'thank you' and to all the members of the Sandbar Luncheon Club, past and present, a very Merry Christmas and see you in the new year.

Around the World in 25 dinners