New Samsi

On a bleak Friday night, an early winter chill blows through the mean streets of Manchester carrying Aureja and myself to a pre-theatre meal at the New Samsi. I'm not much of a one for the pleasures of Thespia, not enough car chases for my taste, but Stella was starring as the Sixties icon 'Nico' at the Lowry and I had promised to go. Aureja had volenteered to accompany on such a rare and potentially hazardous cultural outing and as such deserved an early bird treat. I know I've done Japan twice but Samsi sells Tokyo street food such as yakimono skewers as well as all the standards.

The food was excellent as was the conversation and company, followed by Stella's moving performance as the tragic German
singer.

After the theatre, we warmed ourseleves with mulled wine at, given the weather, the aptedly named North Pole. This has been relocated next to Urbis for, I can only guess, seasonal convenience. To my companion on such a cultured evening I would like to say, 'Sveikata'.

King Cobra

How y'all doin'? Well, I'm back in Blighty and talkin' like a native Arkansasian. I had a wonderful time and ate some great food, of which more later. I saw my first College Football game (Go Reddies!), which included a pre-game ritual, 'Tailgating' where I drank good Southern beer, even better Southern Bourbon and ate a delicious Louisanan 'Dirty Rice' in 75 degree sunshine.
To try and assuage my post-USA blues, I took myself off to Rushomle and the Sri Lankan delights of King Cobra. I had a hot "Fish Chilli' and rice.

While it blunted my depression, it was the Cobra beer that really took the edge off. I will leave you with a view of Arkadelphia and and the B&B I stayed at.


Captain Hendersons' House, Arkadelphia, ARK

B&B seems such an inadequate term for such a magnificent building and just look at that sky. The breakfasts weren't too bad either, courtesty of Miss Vicky. And thankfully, not a sign of Stephen Fry anywhere.

Ted's Montana Grill, Atlanta

Well, chums, it's been some time since my last post and this is only a taster in that I'm still stuck on number 40. I've moved flat, started a new term and am preparing another visit across the pond, this time to Arkansas. Reports of this on my return no doubt. On my last trip I had an unscheduled stopover in Atlanta due to an act of God. According to Delta check-in, this meant I could bill he-who-art-in-heaven for my hotel. He also blessed me with the travelling companion from hell for the duration of my enforced stay in what is, normally, a fantastic city. Discretion (and my therapist) prevents me from giving out any futher details.
Ted's is part of the Ted Turner empire, which includes CNN, the Atlanta Braves and a heavy investment in large parts of Jane Fonda (which failed to turn a descent profit). He also owns a large ranch where he breeds Bison- which leads me neatly to the food at his Montana Grill.

I lunched on a moist Bison meatloaf and washed it down with several glasses of a fine New World pinot noir to ease the pain of the unwanted company of the witch sat across the table. Back at the Airport, I fled to a waiting connection to Paris, leaving the witch demanding immediate transportation direct to Manchester. They should have given her a broomstick.

Half Way

Just a quick note to mark the half way point of my epic quest. 40 restaurants in a year isn't bad going and I've had some great comments, as well as press interest ( see South Manchester Reporter 7/8/08 pg8). My aim of reaching 80 is looking wildly ambitious so I will post restaurants of interest without adding to my list, but when the opportunity arises, I will grab it with both hands.
So, good readers, keep reading, keep commenting and above all, keep eating. Remember,





FOOD IS SEXY

Around the World in 40 dinners

Loch Fyne at Ye Olde Cock Inn

To celebrate the half way point in my culinary quest, a jet-setting Lucia joined me at the newish Loch Fyne fish restaurant at the Olde Cock Inn at Didsbury before flying off to Rome.

While Lucia toyed with the remains of her first course, we toyed with the funny side of eating at the Olde Cock Inn and I thought of what Sid James or Kenneth Williams would have done with the smutty innuendos so neatly served up just waiting for the arrival of the punchline. My train of thought was broken by the arrival, not of a suitable punchline, but a succulent plaice. A tender and tasty fish if ever I saw one.

Now, Loch Fyne is in Scotland and allows me to put a red dot on that fine nation. I have been to the original Loch Fyne cafe on my way to Inveraray. On the shores of Loch Fyne, Inveraray is the ancestoral home of the Dukes of Argyll. The most infamous Duke was the 11th, who divorced his wife, Margaret, in 1963, citing her infidelity with 88 men. The most shocking piece of evidence was an early polaroid of a naked Margaret fellating a man, later identified as Douglas Fairbanks Jr. And there's the punchline, the most famous daughter of Loch Fyne photographed with ye olde cock inn.

St. Petersburg

It all started innocently enough, a chat to Lawrence over a late night drink. Lawrence is the editor of the South Manchester Reporter and ever the news hound, showed interest in the blog. So an interview was arranged with Susannah, who agreed to experience the full deal and accompany me to the new Russian eatery on Sackville St, St. Petersburg. My initial nerves were assuaged on meeting Susannah, who proved to be an engaging, intelligent and entertaining dining companion.

We gorged our way through Borsch, Derevensky, Gorodskiye and Miasnie Kotlety as well as the odd vodka. The food, I have to say, was excellent and I will return.

We swopped histories, stories and enough jokes to fill an entertaining evening at the Leningrad Empire. And I hope Susannah got enough copy to win a Pulitzer.