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.

The Modern at Urbis

All you sophisticates out there will know that the Modern was reviewed in last Sundays' Observer by that giant of restaurant reviewers, Jay Rayner, who voted it a resounding success. In no way wishing to follow in that great man's wake, I had arranged to lunch there with two of my favourite sophisticated women, Hilary and Sharon (aka the Cheeky Girls), before Jay's piece appeared. While the food at the Modern is predominately British and does not merit a red dot on my 'aroundtheworldin80dinners' map, it is worthy of a mention and praise. I ate, quite possibly, one of the best plates of fish, chips and mushy peas I have had the pleasure to taste.

Ably assisted by the lovely Lizzie, we ate and drank our way through the afternoon in fine style. This was complemented by the wonderous view of Manchester's skyline afforded by the well appointed and positioned Modern.

In short, it was an afternoon to remember. However, after three bottles of rose at the 'Hanging Ditch' wine merchants, the rest of the day proved to be a bit fuzzy.

Ikea

I know, from the sublime to the ridiculous, but it still counts-Ikea is Swedish and thus, merits a red spot on the 'aroundtheworldin80dinners' map. Aware of the impending end of the Ikea summer sale, Jenny, Lucia and I took ourselves off to Aston-under-Lyne for late night knick-knack shopping and some tea. We made a hearty selection of salads, potatoes and of course, meatballs which proved to be surprisingly cheap, cheerful and tasty.

While I finished mine, Jenny and Lucia amused themselves with an ingenious game of 'cats cradle' using Swedish liquorice laces.

Given that the centres of our towns and cities on any Friday night are a sea of binge drinking, vomit and death by kniving, Ikea provided a safe haven where we could shop till we drop and sterotype other shoppers without fear (note:avoid the kitchen dept while sterotyping in case of culture-putdown rage in the vicinity of readily available knives). Tummies full and with bags of sale priced goodies, we went home singing Ikea-themed show tunes-'She'll be coming on a meatball when she comes', 'I could have shopped all night' and who could forget, 'I just met a shop called Ikea'.

Koreana

Under a canopy of scaffolding lies a Korean gem, Koreana. I remember it being above the Siam Orchid on Portland Sreet some 15 years ago, but I'm also informed that has always been on King Street West. A mystery indeed.I mention this as my memory might not be as it was, but I lunched with an old friend, Lisa, who added the extra piquancy of a friendship renewed to a fine meal.

Along with tasty starters and soups, we had Chicken Gang Jung and a Dolsot Bibim Bab, a glorious pot of prawns, vegetables, egg and rice with chilli sauce to taste. Jasmine tea and Bek Se Ju, a rice wine flavoured with ginger and gingseng helped it all go down.

When I got home, a rare North Korean cookbook in my possession reminded me that "you will fully feel the nostalgia whenever you enjoy the Korean dishes not only on the festive days but usually with your friends".