Which brings us to Sanmini – the first restaurant in the North West to serve only South Indian cuisine. Nominated for ‘Best Newcomer’ at this year’s Manchester Food & Drink Festival, it’s cannily located in foodie-centric Ramsbottom, an area making a name for itself as a mecca for those appreciate good food. The restaurant was quiet when we arrived, but that was an advantage for us as we were encouraged to sit in the leather sofas in the foyer and study the menu.

My initial reaction was ‘oh, there’s not much choice’.  However, when you realise that absolutely none of the dishes are the familiar ‘curry house’ dishes we’re used to, it all becomes much more interesting and time consuming.  Our genial host was interrogated about virtually every dish, and his gently enthusiastic explanations helped us make some interesting and tasty choices.

Sometimes you have to live a little dangerously – forget the usual bhajis, samosas, rogan josh and dhansak dishes.  My starter of Idli & Sambar (steamed rice cakes with a lentil sambar, or sauce), was a comfort-food-mound that had a mischievous kick that dealt swiftly with a cold I’d been struggling with.  H had a Masala Dosai (his ‘dream date’ of a South Indian dish) which when done properly, which this was, is a structure to behold.  About 8-10 inches of rolled up, light, crispy pancake stuffed with spicy potato filling and served with chutney – which made him a very happy birthday boy.

Sadly I can’t remember what starters my parents ate, but all the main dishes were very tasty.  These included a mutton masala, a chicken dish with poppy, fennel and cashewnuts, and a chickpea and spinach curry.  The pleasure came from trying a range of new flavours and gaining an understanding of the fact that ‘a curry is not just a curry’.  For anyone bored with the ’same old, same old’ curry, it’s worth making an effort to discover a new angle, and Sanmini does a great job of making that introduction.  The service was courteous and warm, the decor was neutral without a hint of flock wallpaper, and well worth a return visit.

Since visiting  Sanmini, we have also discovered a local restaurant in Northenden called Lotus.  They serve Malaysian and South Indian cuisine.  We sampled a takeaway, focusing on the South Indian side of the menu (as sadly most of the Malaysian offering was non-veggie friendly) – we found most dishes were a little doughy and carb-heavy, but perhaps we chose badly.  It may prove more interesting in the restaurant than via takeaway so perhaps one to revisit in future.

Or perhaps not the immediate future, ladies and gents, as we are now one week exactly from the expected arrival date of gastrobaby!  I am now steering well clear of any spicy curries, as I have no intention of this baby arriving early.  However, should another curry review appear on these pages in the coming weeks, you’ll know we went overdue!  In the meantime, there may be a slight lull in posts on this blog (what, another one?!).  I suspect that having a little screaming person to introduce to the delights of.. well just milk initially, may take up some considerable time.  Once we’ve recovered from the shock and have eaten our way through the stock of meals in our freezer (currently consisting of left over home made lasagne and ratatouille) I’m sure we’ll rediscover the world of restaurants and rejoin the rest of you in the real world!  Until then, here’s to 2010 – eat well!

Can someone explain to me why the police think it’s a good idea to carry out a traffic census during rush hour?  I know, I know, they have to monitor the traffic or something, but they ended up causing it, not measuring it!  Several people in my office, myself included, were late into work this morning.  I personally sat for nearly half an hour to travel a distance that would normally take approximately 1 minute.  There have been a few census points in the area this week, this is the first time I got caught and to my astonishment they’d set up two points in two different directions so there was no escape and the repercussions just fed back into the main traffic route.

Surely creating traffic, in order to monitor it, defeats the object?  And they are not only causing chaos on the roads, but costing me time, money (in petrol) and damaging the environment by having hundreds of cars sitting in queues with engines idling for hours at a time.

And Cheshire isn’t the only area to be hit.  I’ve seen reports online of a similar scheme being abandoned in Hull due to the gridlock it caused across half the city.

The police can get our addresses from the DVLA.  They can send us a form to fill in at home if they’re that bothered.  H and I have just completed a traffic survey for the DoT and Manchester City Council which we didn’t mind doing (especially as we are supposed to receive vouchers for doing so – although they’ve not arrived yet).  If I received a traffic census form in the post, I’d fill it in.  However, I’m afraid if I’m stopped in the coming week and handed a form, I will be tearing it up and throwing it away from pure irritation.

Rant over.

Having spent a few hours there, we felt disappointed and slightly let down.  Admittedly we were a week early for the Food & Drink Festival which may have changed our view, and the local farmer’s market wasn’t on but it still felt like any other market town we’ve ever been to (and we’ve been to a few now – you can tell you’re in one if you see a branch of The Edinburgh Woollen Mill!).  We found the good cheese shop which was fun (and smelly), and the owner was kind enough to point out the unpasteurised cheeses which weren’t suitable for me, being pregnant.  And we found a nice wholefood cafe to have lunch in which did the job of filling us up on broccoli and cheese bake and salads and scones.  But any other signs of this being an amazing foodie town were seriously lacking.  Maybe we were just looking in the wrong places and missed something really obvious, but it didn’t do anything for us.

So when it came to a choice of restaurant for the 40th celebration meal, we went for The Clive which is a ‘restaurant with rooms’ just outside of Ludlow in Bromfield.  It has two AA rosettes and an ‘entry in the Michelin guide’ (which I’m assuming is not the same as getting a Michelin star).  It’s also next door to Ludlow’s Food Centre which was the only sign we saw of Ludlow’s foodie credentials – a store selling local produce, surrounded by workshop areas where you can watch them making the bread, or butter, or meat or fish products, pies and so on. 

We rang The Clive beforehand to check the veggie options and as there was no mention of mushroom risotto or goat’s cheese tart, we thought we’d give it a try.  It turned out to be quite a sound choice.  It had a comfortable, warm atmosphere with a nice bar area to enjoy a drink before (and after) dinner with a good choice of quality whiskey, much to H’s delight. 

Our only criticism with the food was the inconsistent seasoning, mainly not enough but we figured that was better than too much.  H started with a smooth, creamy white onion soup which was delicious but needed salt and pepper.  I chose the potato gnocchi with gratin of leek and oyster mushrooms which also needed seasoning but was quite comforting, if a little over-filling. 

H’s main course of strudel with lightly spiced summer vegetables on a bed of baby fennel was full of flavour, if a little too salty (might be where the salt from the first course disappeared to) and made a welcome change from the usual boring veggie options.  His alternative choice of baked aubergines filled with chick peas, tomatoes and herbs with cous cous salad showed that the chef had some imagination when it came to providing for the non-meat eaters, which was refreshing.

My main course of chicken breast filled with ‘apricot and basil farce’ (whatever a farce is) with leeks and buttered mash nearly proved to be my undoing.  Having filled up on gnocchi, the large sliced chicken breast nearly overwhelmed me but I gave it my best shot.  It was moist, tasty, the apricots gave a nice tang, it but could have done with more basil as it was barely noticeable. 

Not ones to go down without a fight, despite being completely stuffed we ordered sorbet for dessert.  I always think that’s an easy one to ‘fit down the sides’ of the food already packed into a full belly!  I went for pink grapefruit which was zingy and refreshing.  H went for a scoop of lemon and one of raspberry.  He didn’t think the lemon was sharp enough.  I disagreed.  It didn’t stop him polishing his off though, I noticed.  And miraculously we found room for the yummy petit fours which came with the coffee at the end.

For a 40th birthday treat The Clive didn’t disappoint.  And looking at its website, its rooms look pretty comfortable too.  It reminded us a little of the Drunken Duck in the Lake District.  Maybe one to keep on the list for a future visit, even if we don’t bother with Ludlow itself.  There’s still all those bookshops in Hay-on-Wye to visit…

My enthusiasm for trying somewhere new was somewhat dampened however, by the realisation that being pregnant presented its own set of problems.  This is a whole new minefield we’re entering here folks.  Let’s put it this way – it’s a good job neither of us wanted starters, as from the whole (delicious) list, I could eat one, possibly two options and they were both from the specials board.  Once I’d discounted several dishes involving liver, plus the inevitable non-kosher bacon/ham etc ones, it didn’t leave much.  This is not a criticism of the restaurant, they can’t cater for everyone.  It was more a sobering reminder of my current limitations.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not being totally paranoid about this stuff – I’m the first to admit that I’ve accidentally eaten blue cheese, and egg yolks that weren’t totally cooked through.  My reaction was a shrug and an ‘oh well’.  But I’m not going out of my way to eat stuff I shouldn’t.

However, I was considerably cheered by my main course – roasted piri piri chicken breast, wonderfully juicy and tender with a subtle spice, with a little dish of hotter sauce to dip in, and moist buttery spinach.  The only off note was the accompanying patatas bravas which had a vague curry taste to it – simple boiled new potatoes would have been fine.  My friend’s sea bass with chorizo looked colourful and delicious and by all accounts, it was.

Having skipped the starter, I felt it only right that I sample a dessert.  The sticky toffee pudding was sticky, hot and moreish, with a gooey rich sauce and the most amazing spun sugar construction sitting on top that looked not unlike a Philip Treacy hat at Ascot.  Delicious.

H was right, his veggie option would have been something involving risotto, so he probably would’ve been disappointed.  But from my point of view, I was very happy.  It wasn’t overly expensive for the quality of the food, it was tasty and well cooked and presented.  The only drawback was the view from our table – over the car park.  But as it also provided decent people watching, we’ll forgive them that.  A good place for an occasional treat.  Especially when it’s within walking distance :-)

I must mention here too the Didsbury House Hotel.  Not strictly a restaurant, but we recently had a very lovely dinner there for a special occasion (our friends celebrated their joint 40th birthday and 10th wedding anniversary).  It was a great venue, we (about 20 people) had the ‘Blue Lounge’ to ourselves, with three tables set out for dinner with individual menus with our choices listed.  My choices of watercress soup to start, and sea bass with dauphinoise potatoes in a thyme veloute meant that it felt like I was having ‘green’ for dinner, as that seemed to be the overriding colour of my food.  However the dessert of  ’oozing’ chocolate pudding with vanilla ice cream, served in a big cup, was deliciously chocolately brown, and so rich that I only managed half.   A fine evening was had by all, the food was lovely, and the staff seemed to manage everything smoothly and efficiently.  I’m sorely tempted to book a room to see what it’s like to stay there – if I can afford it!

I

In a bid to see what I’m missing out on in my region (albeit a bit too far north for me to head out for dinner) I had a look at the menus on their website.  I was very interested to see that they have a specific vegetarian menu, and joy upon joy, no mention of risotto or goats cheese tart.  Full marks for creativity.  However, I can only assume that it’s quite a fancy schmancy place – I can think of no other reason to charge £15.50 for a caramlised onion tart with carrots and potatoes.  I could make a comment about the mark up on a few veg, but I won’t….

And how can they justify charging an extra pound for the same desserts at dinner as they serve at lunchtime?  How does that work?  Do they give you a pound’s worth more in the evening?

Anyway, I’m aware that having never been there I shouldn’t pass judgement.  The food should speak for itself and who knows, one day I may venture north to try it.

It may just have been a mixture of bad menu choices and bad service, but I guess when you put a restaurant on a pedestal it’s only a matter of time before it falls off.  (Can a restaurant fall off something?!).  Don’t get me wrong, it won’t put me off going back, and my fellow diners had no complaints.  Just me.  Typical.

My starter of warm smoked mackerel coated in grain mustard with potato salad was particularly disappointing.  The potato salad wasn’t really salad, it was just cubes of cold boiled potato, some of which were still raw in the middle.  A few tiny cubes of red pepper were chucked over it to make it look pretty but in my book that’s not salad.   The mackerel was nice enough, but I couldn’t really pick up on the mustard at all.

And then it all went downhill for me.  I  decided to try a pizza.  The logic of the argument was, we can have pizza at home any time (and we frequently do – in our house Friday night is pizza night!), but if anyone should be able to make fantastic pizza, surely Osteria could?  So I ordered a Capriciosa without the ham – which left mozzarella, olives, artichokes and anchovies.  I’d seen several pizzas go past our table that looked enormous, their crusty brown edges just peeping over the large plates.  A huge wheel of yumminess.

But when mine arrived, it came with the ham I had requested be left off.  And not just a bit of ham, it seemed to be a whole pig.  So they took it back to make a new one.  Always a disaster in my opinion as you then have to sit and watch your friends eat.  (Although the bits I tasted of those plates within my reach were all good). 

We heard some arguing in the distance, obviously the waiter and the chef disagreeing over my order.  And then when my pizza (finally) arrived it was noticably smaller than those I’d seen go past, and a little flabby round the edges.  My guess is they’d made it smaller so it cooked quicker so I wasn’t left for too long without my order, but in addition it seemed they’d also whisked it out of the oven just that bit too soon.  No crispy edges, the cheese just past the point of melting.  To be honest, I’d rather have waited a bit longer and had a proper job.  And the result was that I was underwhelmed.  A feeling I don’t like to have in Osteria’s, it’s very disconcerting.  I’ve had just as good a pizza at Pizza Express.  I expected more and was left wanting. 

I was somewhat comforted by a magnificent sticky toffee pudding with ice cream, but again let down by the fact they’d run out of peppermint tea.  Not much to ask but surely they do stock checks and make sure they’ve got enough of everything?  Was there a sudden run on peppermint tea?!

At the end of the day, I’m willing to put this down to poor menu choice (I’ll stick to the meat or pasta next time, always reliable).  And also to the order mix up.  I noticed there were more non-Italian waiting staff than there used to be, I wonder if that makes a difference?  In the end we felt we were sufficiently recompensed by the fact that the four gin & tonics we’d ordered at the bar never made it to our bill.  I had asked for these to go on our table, and asked the girl at the bar whether I should let anyone know and she said no.  So quite how she was going to get our drinks on the bill I don’t know, but that is their loss and more than made up for the bad experience.

I’ve been told that Mauro himself is back in the kitchen.  Whether it makes much difference to what is already good food I don’t know but I hope I’ll get an opportunity to be more impressed in the future.  After all, this is my favourite restaurant and round these parts, independent venues of this quality are hard to come by.

Which brings me to the Village Hotel in Leeds, one of a chain of many.  Ordinarily I wouldn’t bother blogging about a hotel, particularly one chosen more for its bed than its catering, but our food experience there was so astounding (and not in a good way) that I couldn’t leave it without comment.

We had one of those awkward few hours ‘between parties’ to fill when we arrived.  We’d left a 2-year old’s afternoon birthday party with cake and triangular sandwiches, to drive over to Leeds to attend a 40th with all the alcoholic refreshment that involves.  Having checked in, we were too late to join some friends for a curry but too early to get ready to go out.  The receptionist told us the restaurant was very busy, if not fully booked.  So we decided to order some room service to ‘line our stomachs’ in readiness for the many drinks to come. We weren’t expecting much, just some inoffensive pasta and a veggie burger.

‘Certainly madam, it’ll be 30-40 minutes.’  Fine, no problem.  We sat and read the paper, watched the football on TV, unpacked, etc.  After an hour we rang again.  They’d lost the order.  If we still wanted it we were told it would take 20 minutes.  Fair enough, but we pointed out we were due to go out in 30 minutes.  We were offered the chance to be ‘fast tracked’ through the restaurant but that didn’t really solve the problem.  So in the end they offered to rustle up some cheese sandwiches for us on the house, which they duly did.

I’m not quite sure how to describe how tasteless the sandwiches were but it was a good job they were free.  Imagine the blandest of bland cheddar, then imagine it many times more bland than that…and then more so.  It was like eating slightly softened candle wax but with less flavour.  We resorted to adding the mayonnaise sachets to try and add flavour.  I couldn’t even bring myself to finish mine.  And the crisps to go with it, although of the posh beetroot/carrot/parsnip variety, were obviously the ends of a few half finished packets – all those dusty bits and broken pieces you lick up at the end with the tip of a finger.

So it filled a hole, and was just enough to soak up the odd drink (or several) that we managed to dispose of that evening.  Thankfully we managed to just avoid hangover territory, which was a blessing, as we then had breakfast to deal with.

It was impressively bad.  Having been told breakfast was 9am to 11am but to avoid 10am as this was the busiest time, we aimed for 9.30am.  There was already a queue when we got there.  After half an hour!  On reflection I think the issue is the restaurant area simply isn’t big enough to cope.  Not enough tables.  Bizarrely they used a side area with about six tables as an overflow waiting area when the queue got too big.  Er…why not use these tables to… I don’t know…eat at?

The queuing turned out to be the best bit.  We were eventually seated at a corner table.  With a great view of the waitress station, of piles of dirty plates waiting to be removed, carriers of dirty cutlery, and a constant stream of waitresses scraping slops into an open bin.  Nice.

Then there was the cutlery and crockery on our table.  I don’t think I picked up anything that was clean.  I changed a dirty spoon at the waitress station for a clean one (so it had its uses).  The milk jug – dirty.  Coffee cup – dirty.  Plate from the serving station – dried egg.

And then the food.  If someone had offered me that room service cheese sandwich I would have gratefully accepted.  It may have been the first time I have involuntarily screwed up my face when tasting something – the scrambled egg was tasteless and wetly rubbery.  I decided to get a fried egg instead, on seeing a fresh batch arrive.  They looked good.  On closer inspection, H & I both decided that scraping off the top layer of raw egg white was probably best before we tried to eat them.  Mmmm.  H’s ‘cooked tomato’ was also totally uncooked.  The remainder of the cooked breakfast that we tried – beans, mushrooms and fried potatoes – was ok thankfully.  And H’s yoghurt/cereal/fruit combo looked healthy.  But if it wasn’t for the fact we’d already paid for the breakfast with our room, neither of us would have bothered.

We made full use of our hotel ‘prize draw’ comment card when we checked out – hopefully we won’t win the top prize of a weekend break at their hotel.  I don’t think we’ll be checking back in in a hurry and if we do, it will be room only.   Thankfully, the next couple of 40th parties are close enough to home to not need a hotel – or breakfast.

This story however, made my jaw drop.  The family in this story, all obese, claim their size is genetic.  They claim they ‘don’t have time’ to diet, that fruit and veg is too expensive, and they ‘don’t know how’ to lose weight. 

So, they can’t fit in a couple of walks round the block every day in between all that TV viewing?  They can’t swap that weekly litre of wine for some cartons of fruit juice (for probably less money)?  They can’t swap their chips for jacket spuds, or their cereal (I bet it’s cornflakes) for muesli, or even contemplate trying any other fruit after deeming pears a no-go as they ‘taste funny’?  They can’t use some tins of beans as weights to lift each day to burn off some calories (ie no money needed to join a gym)? 

I fail to see how they can’t know how to tackle their weight problems given they watch TV literally all day.  How many programmes must they have seen about weight loss/exercise?!  Yes, I can take that it’s genetic to a point, and yes maybe they all tend to the large size, we’re all different and some people are bigger than others.  Not obese, bigger. But to actually not even attempt to help yourself whilst being happy to live on benefits for the rest of your life in front of the TV because you’re too big/ill to work is unbelievable. 

I don’t know what the answer is.  Obviously better education as they have no idea how to eat well.  But again, they’ll have seen all that on the TV they’ve watched religiously all day every day.  You can’t help people who won’t help themselves.

I should say, by the way, that there are plenty of people who are struggling with weight issues, but at least they’re trying, by eating healthily and taking some exercise.  But to sit around and moan about it and not make some easy lifestyle changes, for health reasons if not for immediate weight loss, astounds me.

Rant over.

I picked up a packet of Fish & Chip flavour. Sounded like a great idea (as opposed to the Cajun Squirrel, which didn’t really float my boat).

I’ve never eaten anything that tastes less like Fish & Chips. I would say that in a blind taste test I would have guessed at Worcestershire Sauce.

How disappointing. But then, I should know better. As Michael Winner would probably say, “it’s just a marketing ploy!”

Update: Strangely, when I burp, it tastes of Fish & Chips.  Disturbing…