This post has a lot of tags. It started off with more but I blew Blogger's limit. I didn't even know there was a limit! See, friendship touches so many areas of my life that Blogger can't cope. I'm half expecting it to seize up in the middle of this post. Let's see how we get on...
With the last post of my 100-day (aka 100-theme) writing challenge in sight, friendship has been much on my mind. I've had some really nice comments and feedback on here, but what's been even better, and more surprising, is the feedback I've had in real life. Whenever I've met up with friends at least one of them has commented on each occasion how much they've been enjoying the writing. I've been enjoying it too, of course, in fact that's one of the things I'll be including in the "lessons learned" follow-up post I'll be writing over the weekend. But it's one thing to gain enjoyment from something yourself, and totally another thing to find out that you've been giving enjoyment to others. Writing can be a solitary experience (all writers say this, at least those who speak/write/email to me) with -- often -- not much in the way of validation or appreciation, so it's really cool to hear the opinions of readers, which posts they liked best and why, etc.
I'd also be really interested to hear which ones folk thought didn't work out so well. To see how this matches my own feelings, for one thing, but also because it's all part of the learning experience. Just doing this stuff has helped me improve enormously, but really good feedback that mentions the bad as well as the good, is also a huge help.
I appear to have drifted off topic somewhat, so to drag it back to friendship: I've been lucky. When I talk about the times we have with mates -- the trips to the Lakes, weekends away, meals out (and in) -- the single most common response is how unusual it is for a bunch of guys to have kept a communal friendship going for so long. I'm not sure how rare it is in the great scheme of things, but those who comment on it seem to think it's pretty rare. Much more common for women to have a "girly group of friends"; less so for guys to have a "blokey group", apparently.
I've known for many years that social groups depend on key individuals to hold them together. I had an old colleagues network at one time -- around two dozen people who all used to work together in the same part of the organisation until one dark day a reorganisation came along and scattered us all across the company. Some left for other jobs, some took the opportunity for early retirement, most split up into three or four units, separated by geography, department and skill set. For several years after the split, we would get together two or three times a year (Christmas, obviously, and then one or two other meals or social events like bowling, walking, pub crawls). These were all marvellous events, well attended and very popular, but they all had a single individual -- the same guy in every case -- as the instigator. And then one day he stopped doing it. And none of us have ever met up again since that day.
The small group of friends I always refer to as my "Nottingham" mates (even though only two of them live there now) have strength in depth when it comes to organising get-togethers. It's not driven by just one of us. Once a few weeks, or a months, have gone by since our last meet, one or other of us will get in touch to set something else up. Often we don't need to do this, as we arrange it in advance at the previous one. It's a source of infinite variety, pleasure, amusement and fun to Nikki and I to be able to be part of this, as I'm sure anyone who is lucky enough to have their own strong ties of friendship will understand. Friends, they say, are the family you choose, and I would tag that with "lines I wish I'd written" if there was any space left in the tag list :0)
As I've discovered (and blogged about before), friends come at you from all parts of life, and another group that I've been blessed to reconnect with -- a few years back now -- has been the curry crew. We may only meet once a month, but I find myself looking forward to those evenings immensely. The conversation always flows, it's always stimulating and amusing, and the food is only the icing on the cake (if curry can be said to be any kind of icing).
I have a small number of friends that fall into another different category. All of the aforementioned might be classed as "regular" friends, and if such a term fits then this small number I'm talking about now might correspondingly be referred to as "irregular" friends. People who, over the years, have meandered in and out of my life seemingly at random, but who whenever we meet will pick up the threads of friendship (and even conversation!) and knit them back into something recognisable within a few hours. I met one such person outside a hotel once, a few years back. Having not seen him for more than five years, suddenly there he was, leaving a hotel at which I had arrived to meet someone else. We only had chance for twenty minutes frantic catching up and exchanging of current contact details, but it rekindled some long-buried memories and the spark of yet another friendship stretching back to the mid 1970s. We originally met at university and the names of other uni friends crop up regularly in the strangest places. Naturally the Internet is the perfect medium for this and over the years I've had the occasional email from old friends who've read this blog, or seen my profile on LinkedIn, or Friends Reunited, or found my website through Google.
There is a downside to this though. The reality of how easy it is to lose touch with people was brought home to me when I attended a school reunion about 15 years ago. It was such a strange experience I vowed never to attend one again (although I was tempted a couple of years back when they held a 25th -- or was it 30th? -- reunion). Not only the experience -- spending 3 or 4 hours in a function room with 50 people who at one time I saw on a daily basis but who, with one exception, I hadn't seen for 15 years -- but the aftermath. The impact of the realisation that I had completely lost touch with all of them, even those I'd thought of as close friends, really hit me surprisingly hard. I guess it just shows that friends are more than simply people you spend time with. Just as it's easy to be lonely in a crowded room, rubbing shoulders with a bunch of people every day for six years doesn't necessarily make them your friends. It knocked me for six a bit, did that.
Showing posts with label eating out. Show all posts
Showing posts with label eating out. Show all posts
Saturday, November 03, 2012
Friday, December 16, 2011
Last day
It's my last working day of the year today. Hurrah! Even better than that, it will be foreshortened by having a Christmas "do" to attend at lunchtime, which will stretch comfortably into the afternoon. The only "work" that will be done after noon will be setting my Out of Office reply saying I won't be back until January 3rd next year.
Marvellous.
I love the feeling at this time of year. Even leaving aside Christmas (my favourite time of year in any case), the feeling of *completeness* - that work is over for the holidays - is somehow even more liberating than with a regular holiday. Because it's not just over for the time being, it's over for THE WHOLE YEAR.
Mind you, it would suit me if it was over for the rest of my life. Have I mentioned that I'm sick of it? It's at least controversial and this year has occasionally been suicidal (career-wise, for some high-profile bloggers) to diss one's employers in a public forum, so I won't go into detail, but yes, I've had more than enough. It's mainly that which was behind the Great Absence of blogging earlier this year, when I took a couple of months out to get my head straight. What I was really working on was a medium-term plan to get me out of the place for good.
I never expected to be in this place. Metaphorically. My Dad toiled for most of his working life at a job he loathed, just to do what we all have to do - put a roof over us, feed, clothe, etc. I admired that in a kind of disconnected, unempathic way, because at least in the early days I loved my job. I couldn't really comprehend why anyone would carry on doing something they hated just because of the money. That kind of comprehension only comes with experience. Well, now I have both. Experience and comprehension. And a job I hate. Full house. But at least, after 12pm today, I won't have to think about it until... next year.
Marvellous.
I love the feeling at this time of year. Even leaving aside Christmas (my favourite time of year in any case), the feeling of *completeness* - that work is over for the holidays - is somehow even more liberating than with a regular holiday. Because it's not just over for the time being, it's over for THE WHOLE YEAR.
Mind you, it would suit me if it was over for the rest of my life. Have I mentioned that I'm sick of it? It's at least controversial and this year has occasionally been suicidal (career-wise, for some high-profile bloggers) to diss one's employers in a public forum, so I won't go into detail, but yes, I've had more than enough. It's mainly that which was behind the Great Absence of blogging earlier this year, when I took a couple of months out to get my head straight. What I was really working on was a medium-term plan to get me out of the place for good.
I never expected to be in this place. Metaphorically. My Dad toiled for most of his working life at a job he loathed, just to do what we all have to do - put a roof over us, feed, clothe, etc. I admired that in a kind of disconnected, unempathic way, because at least in the early days I loved my job. I couldn't really comprehend why anyone would carry on doing something they hated just because of the money. That kind of comprehension only comes with experience. Well, now I have both. Experience and comprehension. And a job I hate. Full house. But at least, after 12pm today, I won't have to think about it until... next year.
Sunday, September 25, 2011
Hare today
Having taxied back to Chesterfield from Friday's nuptials, yesterday morning was largely taken up with breakfasting and then heading off in one car to pick up the other two (the logistics of which are fairly simple compared to some of the stunts we've pulled in the Lakes).
Neither vehicle had come to any harm during their enforced stay in the pub car park, and duly retrieved, we set off for an afternoon's amble around Chatsworth gardens, taking in the general ambience and enjoying some of the unusual sculptures that adorn the gardens at the moment as part of their "Beyond Limits" exhibition.
I christened this one "Hare On My Bell End" - for obvious reasons. Never did find out what it's really called, and as it's not mentioned over here or on the "sculpture map" I'm still none the wiser. Maybe it's a permanent feature.
Anyway having indulged in more ice cream and pasties than were entirely good for us, we returned to P&V's place (via the Robin Hood for a quick quaff) to refresh before wandering over to the Market Pub for a couple of extra pints in advance of dinner at The Old Post. And WHAT a dinner. Superb.
All too soon the evening, and this morning's breakfast, with such charming and erudite companions was over and we returned home to examine what progress had been made, kitchen-wise in our absence on Friday afternoon, which was - as I'm sure you'll realise if you've been following - "Kitchen fit: Day 5".
The answer was "not a lot" - certainly nothing that would be visible in a photo. The guys had been concentrating on completing the essential and fiddly bits that aren't especially noticeable, while staying out of the way of the granite men. Expect more obvious progress tomorrow.
Neither vehicle had come to any harm during their enforced stay in the pub car park, and duly retrieved, we set off for an afternoon's amble around Chatsworth gardens, taking in the general ambience and enjoying some of the unusual sculptures that adorn the gardens at the moment as part of their "Beyond Limits" exhibition.
Anyway having indulged in more ice cream and pasties than were entirely good for us, we returned to P&V's place (via the Robin Hood for a quick quaff) to refresh before wandering over to the Market Pub for a couple of extra pints in advance of dinner at The Old Post. And WHAT a dinner. Superb.
All too soon the evening, and this morning's breakfast, with such charming and erudite companions was over and we returned home to examine what progress had been made, kitchen-wise in our absence on Friday afternoon, which was - as I'm sure you'll realise if you've been following - "Kitchen fit: Day 5".
The answer was "not a lot" - certainly nothing that would be visible in a photo. The guys had been concentrating on completing the essential and fiddly bits that aren't especially noticeable, while staying out of the way of the granite men. Expect more obvious progress tomorrow.
Friday, September 16, 2011
No.1 Chinky Buffy
Diane's been in town unexpectedly this week, so tonight we headed into town for an almost ad-hoc get-together at Manchester's renowned No.1 Oriental Buffet. Or at least it was renowned last time I looked (2-3 years ago maybe). On this particular occasion, although the company was as usual excellent, the meal was a little under par. A bit predictable in choices and some of it not as hot as it could be. Maybe that's what gave me a gippy tummy the next day. Anyway fun was had, drink was quaffed and faces were stuffed.
Then later Annie came back with us and we sat for an hour or two speccing up a replacement for the deceased beased. The death of the old war horse was distinctly to be treated as an opportunity to be grasped, rather than a tragedy to be mourned. Truth be told there had been more grinding of teeth, muttering and swearing in its general direction in recent months (years) than praise and soft words. Slow, error-prone, noisy, slow, many of its application exhibiting less than normal behaviour, and slow.
So one requirement for its replacement stood out from the crowd: Not Slow.
I think an Intel Core i5 and 8GB of memory should be fast enough :o)
Then later Annie came back with us and we sat for an hour or two speccing up a replacement for the deceased beased. The death of the old war horse was distinctly to be treated as an opportunity to be grasped, rather than a tragedy to be mourned. Truth be told there had been more grinding of teeth, muttering and swearing in its general direction in recent months (years) than praise and soft words. Slow, error-prone, noisy, slow, many of its application exhibiting less than normal behaviour, and slow.
So one requirement for its replacement stood out from the crowd: Not Slow.
I think an Intel Core i5 and 8GB of memory should be fast enough :o)
Sunday, September 04, 2011
Stags and Hens
I thought my days of attending stag dos were long behind me, but then I also thought that pretty much everyone whose stag do I might attend was either already married, or unlikely to go that way in the foreseeable. How little I know. The weddings aren't over quite yet and neither, therefore, are the stag dos. Or the hen dos for that matter.
So last night, we enjoyed both. Stags for me, Hens for Nikki, and an amalgamation of both at the beginning and end of the night, since we all got together for pre-do drinkies at Ian and Gill's, and then met up again in time for last orders (just!) at the Test Match.
In between times it was another delightful curry for the lads at the Bombay Bridgford, which equalled its last effort (let's face it, it was never going to surpass it), followed by copious quantities of quaffage on the meandering path back to the TM, via the Larwood and the Pet Shop. Lovely.
Having sunk our last pints at the TM (after somehow managing to convince them to serve us even though the towels had been on the pumps for five minutes before we showed up - the benefits of being regulars :o)) we repaired back to Ian & Gill's to round the night off in similar style.
In fact the whole weekend, despite being Ritchie & Helena's respective dos, had a bit of an "Ian & Gill's" theme to it, as we were back there for breakfast this morning. Much appreciated. Next get together: The Actual Wedding.
So last night, we enjoyed both. Stags for me, Hens for Nikki, and an amalgamation of both at the beginning and end of the night, since we all got together for pre-do drinkies at Ian and Gill's, and then met up again in time for last orders (just!) at the Test Match.
In between times it was another delightful curry for the lads at the Bombay Bridgford, which equalled its last effort (let's face it, it was never going to surpass it), followed by copious quantities of quaffage on the meandering path back to the TM, via the Larwood and the Pet Shop. Lovely.
Having sunk our last pints at the TM (after somehow managing to convince them to serve us even though the towels had been on the pumps for five minutes before we showed up - the benefits of being regulars :o)) we repaired back to Ian & Gill's to round the night off in similar style.
In fact the whole weekend, despite being Ritchie & Helena's respective dos, had a bit of an "Ian & Gill's" theme to it, as we were back there for breakfast this morning. Much appreciated. Next get together: The Actual Wedding.
Sunday, July 24, 2011
Manchester calling...
*tap* *tap*
This thing on?
*cough*
Hello!
Welcome back. To me, that is. You've probably been here all along, wondering where I was. Turns out *I* was here all along too. Just not saying much. Shit happens, they say. And shit is pretty much what has been happening. I might even write about it one day, but not right now.
So, when last we spoke, Nikki & I were in Toronto. April 26. Good grief! Was that really the last entry? That's almost three months ago!! *slaps wrist* Well that pretty much puts the mockers on my usual "chronological" approach to blogging. As regular readers (if I have any left!) will know, I like to keep things in order. Even if I'm writing the entry two or three weeks behind the event, it'll still have the real date on it. The date it actually happened. That's not so bad if I'm only three weeks behind, but three months? No. I'd never catch up, and besides one of the reasons for blowing the dust off this cobwebby part of the Intertubes is a pointed request for pictures of our CURRENT project. If I wrote up everything (significant) that has happened in the interim then the kitchen would be finished before it even got started, if you see what I mean.
No the only way to do this is to package up the last three months into a little box and leave it over there in the corner. Over the next few months I might open up the box and take one or two choice pieces out for display purposes, but for the time being we need to get started with what's going on right now.
Although perhaps, before we get to that, I should tidy up the news from our Toronto trip. I wouldn't want to leave us hanging there, so to speak, having apparently only just been lunching in the distillery district and then magically transplanted three months into the future back in Manchester. Here, then, are the rudimentary details of the few draft entries I'd queued up covering the remainder of that trip, with their prospective titles drummed into service as headings:
Man-daRIN
(Family joke). Shirley & Neil took us for dinner at the Mandarin all-you-can-eat restaurant. Now, we have AYCE outlets in Manchester - the ones we visit most often being the No. 1 Chinese buffet, and the Nawaab Indian - but even though they are both firm favourites and very good value for money the quality is nothing like Mandarin. Wow. Absolutely fabulous Chinese food, lots of it, masses of choice, and everything tastes as fresh as if it had been cooked to order. This place became a firm favourite almost on the first mouthful. We'll definitely be back.
This thing on?
*cough*
Hello!
Welcome back. To me, that is. You've probably been here all along, wondering where I was. Turns out *I* was here all along too. Just not saying much. Shit happens, they say. And shit is pretty much what has been happening. I might even write about it one day, but not right now.
So, when last we spoke, Nikki & I were in Toronto. April 26. Good grief! Was that really the last entry? That's almost three months ago!! *slaps wrist* Well that pretty much puts the mockers on my usual "chronological" approach to blogging. As regular readers (if I have any left!) will know, I like to keep things in order. Even if I'm writing the entry two or three weeks behind the event, it'll still have the real date on it. The date it actually happened. That's not so bad if I'm only three weeks behind, but three months? No. I'd never catch up, and besides one of the reasons for blowing the dust off this cobwebby part of the Intertubes is a pointed request for pictures of our CURRENT project. If I wrote up everything (significant) that has happened in the interim then the kitchen would be finished before it even got started, if you see what I mean.
No the only way to do this is to package up the last three months into a little box and leave it over there in the corner. Over the next few months I might open up the box and take one or two choice pieces out for display purposes, but for the time being we need to get started with what's going on right now.
Although perhaps, before we get to that, I should tidy up the news from our Toronto trip. I wouldn't want to leave us hanging there, so to speak, having apparently only just been lunching in the distillery district and then magically transplanted three months into the future back in Manchester. Here, then, are the rudimentary details of the few draft entries I'd queued up covering the remainder of that trip, with their prospective titles drummed into service as headings:
Man-daRIN
(Family joke). Shirley & Neil took us for dinner at the Mandarin all-you-can-eat restaurant. Now, we have AYCE outlets in Manchester - the ones we visit most often being the No. 1 Chinese buffet, and the Nawaab Indian - but even though they are both firm favourites and very good value for money the quality is nothing like Mandarin. Wow. Absolutely fabulous Chinese food, lots of it, masses of choice, and everything tastes as fresh as if it had been cooked to order. This place became a firm favourite almost on the first mouthful. We'll definitely be back.
My fortune cookie for the evening: Accept no other definition of your life, accept only your own.
How apt.
Kensington
Shortly before our return, Paul took us for a wander around Kensington market. We lunched at Big Fat Burrito (delicious) and picked up some cool Christmas presents from the various shops and stalls.
How apt.
Kensington
Shortly before our return, Paul took us for a wander around Kensington market. We lunched at Big Fat Burrito (delicious) and picked up some cool Christmas presents from the various shops and stalls.
That evening we had dinner at the Tulip steak house, which surprisingly (the place looks a little run-down and basic) proved by popular acclaim to be the best steak we had all holiday. And also, after a little persuasion, the best rack of lamb!! (*ahem*)
JB @ JB
After a last minute trudge around Walmarts to pick up those few essential items that just aren't available in the UK, we returned to Jawny Bakers for dinner. Hard to beat for atmosphere and quality (in my opinion - but I admit to being completely biased since this place holds very fond memories for me), it ran the Tulip a close second for steak quality but it's somewhere I couldn't imagine visiting Toronto without going.
Pack it in
Packing for the return trip became interesting, and a little Dickensian:
JB @ JB
After a last minute trudge around Walmarts to pick up those few essential items that just aren't available in the UK, we returned to Jawny Bakers for dinner. Hard to beat for atmosphere and quality (in my opinion - but I admit to being completely biased since this place holds very fond memories for me), it ran the Tulip a close second for steak quality but it's somewhere I couldn't imagine visiting Toronto without going.
Pack it in
Packing for the return trip became interesting, and a little Dickensian:
Suitcase #1: 25kgs
Suitcase #2: 20kgs
Allowance: 40kgs.
Result: misery.
Result: misery.
Ah, but... at this stage, Carry on #1 weighed 2kgs and carry on #2: 2kgs, with a carry-on allowance of 10kgs. So after some judicious redistribution of contents...
Suitcase #1: 20kgs
Suitcase #2: 20kgs
Carry-on #1: 4.5kgs
Carry-on #2: 4.5kgs
Result: happiness.
Suitcase #1: 20kgs
Suitcase #2: 20kgs
Carry-on #1: 4.5kgs
Carry-on #2: 4.5kgs
Result: happiness.
I was also going to post something humorous about the pharma ads on Canadian/US TV. Honestly, if you haven't seen one check it out. Little beats them for unintentional black humour. I might still do a post on that at some stage. (Probably during our next trip, when I'll be exposed to them again :o))
And finally...
I just read this back and realised that I've waxed lyrical about all the wonderful meals we had OUT, but nary a mention of all the many wonderful meals we had IN. So many grateful thanks to Shirley for repeatedly proving that home cooking easily beats bought. Amongst numerous other successes, a roast turkey dinner to die for - or, at least, worth travelling 3,000 miles for!
Tuesday, April 26, 2011
Distilled fun
Went for a wander around the distillery district today with Paul/a. One of those cool "urban renewal" projects that takes a bunch of old Victorian warehouses and factories and regenerates it as a series of shops selling cool shit, and pubs.
We lunched at the Mill Street Brewpub, where they offer sampler trays for those who can't choose between the impressive array of beers, and/or don't have time for a "session." Each of these glasses is a third of a pint, so not only do they all slip down remarkably easily, but by the time you've emptied the tray you've had more than a pint; just about the perfect amount for lunchtime drinking. My tray included an IPA, and ESB, a raspberry fruit beer, and a pilsner (which I swapped for the Wit beer on Nikki's tray as she's not a huge fan of wheat beers).
Lunch was some kind of pulled beef sandwich with amazing BBQ sauce, the by-now traditional sweet potato fries and slaw, after which we staggered over to Soma Chocolate for a cup of Mayan chocolate.
Lunch was some kind of pulled beef sandwich with amazing BBQ sauce, the by-now traditional sweet potato fries and slaw, after which we staggered over to Soma Chocolate for a cup of Mayan chocolate.
Monday, April 25, 2011
Eating and Eaton
Latest in the series of awesome meals on this trip, which so far has consisted mainly of eating, sleeping and shopping, was yesterday's Easter Sunday dinner. A traditional family dinner to rival the Thanksgiving dinner we enjoyed on our last visit, this one featured the same cast and pretty much the same menu.
Roast turkey, homemade stuffing, garlic mash, sweet potatoes, peas, sprouts and carrots, cranberry sauce and gravy, followed up by three different kinds of cheesecake. I'm finding that it's getting easier to move after meals of this size, so much of the nutrition must be finding its way to my leg muscles.
Today we travelled into town on the street car, visited the Eaton Centre (more shopping) and lunched at Mr Greenjeans (more eating - here's our burgers and very yummy they were too, washed down with a couple of pints of Sleeman's Honey Brown) before travelling home again for a significantly simpler family meal, which was quite a relief after the massive indulgences of the last 3-4 days.
Roast turkey, homemade stuffing, garlic mash, sweet potatoes, peas, sprouts and carrots, cranberry sauce and gravy, followed up by three different kinds of cheesecake. I'm finding that it's getting easier to move after meals of this size, so much of the nutrition must be finding its way to my leg muscles.
Thursday, November 04, 2010
Kerreh!
After a month's absence from Curry Club on account of our unexpected trip to Toronto, I was determined not to influence the choice of restaurant this time round but we ended up at my favourite Ayo Gurkhali anyway.
I say favourite, but apparently there's a new kid on the block - a fourth curry house has opened in the centre of Wilmslow - which hopefully I'll get the chance to suss out next month. Sounds like an interesting place: it's open all day and serves Indian-themed food that varies to suit the mood, be it breakfast, lunch or evening dinner. It'll have to go some to beat the Gurkhali, but I'll give it a fair hearing. Er, tasting.
Starting the evening off in our traditional haunt - the Bollin Fee - was a revelation too. Not only is their refurbishment complete, providing an altogether plusher experience with its tasteful deep pile carpets, upholstered bar stools (replacing the previous bum-numbers) and subdued mood lighting, but their first-week-of-the-month beer festival continues to go from strength to strength. This month there were seven guest ales to choose from. Almost enough to make me wish I lived in walking distance!
Not sure whether my enjoyment of tonight's main - a return to the well-loved Himalayan Cham-Cham - was blunted by the exotic flavour of my Chicken Sukuti starter (which I had as a main on my previous visit), or whether their standards are slipping. I hope it's not the latter as this has firmly established itself in my top five favourite curry restaurants. Whatever the reason, the Cham-Cham didn't have as much flavour tonight. I'll have to revisit the menu the next time we "try the Gurkhas". There remain at least half-a-dozen appealing dishes on the Specials menu I've not yet tried.
I say favourite, but apparently there's a new kid on the block - a fourth curry house has opened in the centre of Wilmslow - which hopefully I'll get the chance to suss out next month. Sounds like an interesting place: it's open all day and serves Indian-themed food that varies to suit the mood, be it breakfast, lunch or evening dinner. It'll have to go some to beat the Gurkhali, but I'll give it a fair hearing. Er, tasting.
Starting the evening off in our traditional haunt - the Bollin Fee - was a revelation too. Not only is their refurbishment complete, providing an altogether plusher experience with its tasteful deep pile carpets, upholstered bar stools (replacing the previous bum-numbers) and subdued mood lighting, but their first-week-of-the-month beer festival continues to go from strength to strength. This month there were seven guest ales to choose from. Almost enough to make me wish I lived in walking distance!
Not sure whether my enjoyment of tonight's main - a return to the well-loved Himalayan Cham-Cham - was blunted by the exotic flavour of my Chicken Sukuti starter (which I had as a main on my previous visit), or whether their standards are slipping. I hope it's not the latter as this has firmly established itself in my top five favourite curry restaurants. Whatever the reason, the Cham-Cham didn't have as much flavour tonight. I'll have to revisit the menu the next time we "try the Gurkhas". There remain at least half-a-dozen appealing dishes on the Specials menu I've not yet tried.
Saturday, July 24, 2010
Curreh!
Travelling to experience the delights of eastern cuisine is nothing new for us. When I first came to Manchester as a student we'd think nothing of piling six of us in a car and driving from Nottingham to Manchester for a curry, and then driving home again.
Last night, we made the pilgrimage in the reverse direction, the only concession to age being that we stayed over for the night rather than driving back in the same evening. These days, a whistle stop in Bridgford has the added bonus that we can, as I put it, "reset the visit flag" with mother without spending too much time trying to think of news to tell her that she'll forget again five minutes after we've related it, or insisting for the fifth time in half an hour that we don't want a coffee, thanks.
The restaurant of choice this time, at Ian's suggestion, was the Bombay Bridgford, just opposite the cricket ground. Traditional décor and seating, but those were the only aspects of this venue that could be considered run-of-the-mill. We enjoyed a much warmer than usual welcome from the smiling greeter, and the interesting and eclectic menu mixed some exciting specials among the more usual fare of kormas and jalfrezis. Having insisted before we set out that I wouldn't just go for the hottest thing on the menu, in the end I plumped for the chicken Jai Puri; the... er... hottest thing on the menu. So hot, in fact, that it came with a health warning.
"Have you had a Jai Puri here before?" asked the waitress.
"No," I smiled back, "but I have thirty years' experience eating very hot curries."
As it turned out, I needed every year of that experience to weather the waves of extreme chilli in this dish. Every mouthful tasted like boiling water on the tongue, among the more subtle flavours of coriander, cinnamon, vinegar, lemon and so on that make very hot curries such an irresistible choice for me. Absolutely delicious, and I made sure the owners knew how much I enjoyed their hospitality. Even the Peshwari nan was above average.
We don't eat out in Bridgford very often these days but it's a sure bet that we'll be returning to this place.
Last night, we made the pilgrimage in the reverse direction, the only concession to age being that we stayed over for the night rather than driving back in the same evening. These days, a whistle stop in Bridgford has the added bonus that we can, as I put it, "reset the visit flag" with mother without spending too much time trying to think of news to tell her that she'll forget again five minutes after we've related it, or insisting for the fifth time in half an hour that we don't want a coffee, thanks.
The restaurant of choice this time, at Ian's suggestion, was the Bombay Bridgford, just opposite the cricket ground. Traditional décor and seating, but those were the only aspects of this venue that could be considered run-of-the-mill. We enjoyed a much warmer than usual welcome from the smiling greeter, and the interesting and eclectic menu mixed some exciting specials among the more usual fare of kormas and jalfrezis. Having insisted before we set out that I wouldn't just go for the hottest thing on the menu, in the end I plumped for the chicken Jai Puri; the... er... hottest thing on the menu. So hot, in fact, that it came with a health warning.
"Have you had a Jai Puri here before?" asked the waitress.
"No," I smiled back, "but I have thirty years' experience eating very hot curries."
As it turned out, I needed every year of that experience to weather the waves of extreme chilli in this dish. Every mouthful tasted like boiling water on the tongue, among the more subtle flavours of coriander, cinnamon, vinegar, lemon and so on that make very hot curries such an irresistible choice for me. Absolutely delicious, and I made sure the owners knew how much I enjoyed their hospitality. Even the Peshwari nan was above average.
We don't eat out in Bridgford very often these days but it's a sure bet that we'll be returning to this place.
Sunday, June 06, 2010
Pimp My Hotpot: Final Night & BBQ 2010
A pretty hectic day for me yesterday, as the final night of the Hotpot show clashed with the annual street barbecue. So it was up with the lark to prepare the usual salads (always such a popular item I'd been asked to make the same three for the third year running), cut the new neighbour's grass (she moves in soon and it was looking like a bit of a jungle out there), and pull the garden chairs out from the depths of the shed.
BBQ started around 3pm and for once - unlike the last two years - the day was glorious. We'd had fabulous weather last weekend and the forecast in the early part of the week suggested we were in for a repeat of last year, missing the good weather by a week and being subjected to a downpour. Instead the bad weather slipped back a day and left us smiling under the sun while chomping on our toasties.
I should give the toasties a special mention this year, as it may well be the last year we enjoy them. Torsten & Keeth are set to emigrate to Portugal by the end of the summer, and their special contribution to every year's barbie will be greatly missed. Someone was supposed to watch the assembly of these delights this year so the tradition could be handed on, but no-one turned up and now they might be lost forever. I think I'll be popping down the road sometime soon with paper and pen. A street barbecue without toasties is unthinkable.
At 6.30pm, in the middle of the first quiz, I had to duck out, change into (one of) my stage costume(s) and drive over to the hall in preparation to open the final show. Even though I knew I had that monologue in my head, I didn't want to be blasé about it, and still repeated it to myself a couple of times before taking the stage. It all went very smoothly (although a slightly smaller audience than last night owing to the good weather) and pretty soon I was changing out of my tux into the black jeans and T I've been wearing all week for Beresford & Wallace's interval set.
On balance I think our performance last night was the best of the three. Not surprising, I guess, as it was the one we'd had most practice for, and I think we both (or all three of us if we include our guest artiste Becky Hodges who played a flute accompaniment to More Than Just Your Face) felt totally comfortable with both the material and the performing of it. But although it may have been technically the best performance I didn't enjoy it quite as much, both on account of knowing it was the last one, and because Nikki, Nat & Blythe weren't there as they'd been the night before. We did have a couple of friends in the audience, but it wasn't the same.
Coming off stage around 9pm I grabbed my other costume and headed back to the street BBQ, where the Chocolate Game had just finished and people were once again sitting around chatting. We had a very short gentle shower which caused us to move the chairs into a quadrangle under the gazebo, where we lit candles and enjoyed a couple of rounds of the Story Game (everyone in turn says a sentence to carry the story on) and Mafia (rules too complicated to relate but can be found here for anyone interested - although we didn't include the Nurse role mentioned there.) before moving inside, when the rain became more persistent, for another round of Mafia and more drinking (!)
Shortly after midnight most of the family had had enough so we left the remaining dozen or so revellers to their fate and wandered over the road. I picked up some more beer and headed off to the after-show party (another barbecue!) at Annie's - luckily only a short walk away. The rain had, mercifully, passed off a couple of hours before, leaving the night fresh and warm, and I spent a pleasant couple of hours munching on more BBQ food, sipping on a couple of ales and chatting with fellow members of cast & crew. It was also the first (and probably only) time I got to enjoy the Aftershow Awards ceremony that is a Chorlton Players tradition. Great fun. When I got home shortly after 3 I was more than ready to crash, even though dawn was already faintly visible over the roofs of the houses.
BBQ started around 3pm and for once - unlike the last two years - the day was glorious. We'd had fabulous weather last weekend and the forecast in the early part of the week suggested we were in for a repeat of last year, missing the good weather by a week and being subjected to a downpour. Instead the bad weather slipped back a day and left us smiling under the sun while chomping on our toasties.
I should give the toasties a special mention this year, as it may well be the last year we enjoy them. Torsten & Keeth are set to emigrate to Portugal by the end of the summer, and their special contribution to every year's barbie will be greatly missed. Someone was supposed to watch the assembly of these delights this year so the tradition could be handed on, but no-one turned up and now they might be lost forever. I think I'll be popping down the road sometime soon with paper and pen. A street barbecue without toasties is unthinkable.
At 6.30pm, in the middle of the first quiz, I had to duck out, change into (one of) my stage costume(s) and drive over to the hall in preparation to open the final show. Even though I knew I had that monologue in my head, I didn't want to be blasé about it, and still repeated it to myself a couple of times before taking the stage. It all went very smoothly (although a slightly smaller audience than last night owing to the good weather) and pretty soon I was changing out of my tux into the black jeans and T I've been wearing all week for Beresford & Wallace's interval set.
Coming off stage around 9pm I grabbed my other costume and headed back to the street BBQ, where the Chocolate Game had just finished and people were once again sitting around chatting. We had a very short gentle shower which caused us to move the chairs into a quadrangle under the gazebo, where we lit candles and enjoyed a couple of rounds of the Story Game (everyone in turn says a sentence to carry the story on) and Mafia (rules too complicated to relate but can be found here for anyone interested - although we didn't include the Nurse role mentioned there.) before moving inside, when the rain became more persistent, for another round of Mafia and more drinking (!)
Shortly after midnight most of the family had had enough so we left the remaining dozen or so revellers to their fate and wandered over the road. I picked up some more beer and headed off to the after-show party (another barbecue!) at Annie's - luckily only a short walk away. The rain had, mercifully, passed off a couple of hours before, leaving the night fresh and warm, and I spent a pleasant couple of hours munching on more BBQ food, sipping on a couple of ales and chatting with fellow members of cast & crew. It was also the first (and probably only) time I got to enjoy the Aftershow Awards ceremony that is a Chorlton Players tradition. Great fun. When I got home shortly after 3 I was more than ready to crash, even though dawn was already faintly visible over the roofs of the houses.
Saturday, May 29, 2010
First BBQ of the season
We drove all ni-i-i-ight to get to you. Well, maybe not ALL night. We got an early pass and set off shortly after 4pm. We were there just after 6. And maybe not to YOU. Unless you're one of those we were barbecuing with on Friday night...
On the available evidence, of two days, we'd chosen by far the better of the bank holiday evenings for dinner al fresco. Perfect fluffy clouds slowly giving way to crystal blue sky as we sat sipping our various beverages on the patio, cordially greeting each new arrival, sharing the latest craic and the pre-dinner nibbles before moving on to the more serious business of burgers, sausages, chicken (piri-piri, honeyed and on the bone), prawns, shashlik and kebabs. Salad, buns, french stick. Roulade, raspberry tart, chocolate fudge pudding and barbecued bananas with choc chip surprise.
And a 1am finish. Superb.
The expansive hospitality of our guests didn't end there though. Full cooked breakfast and more excellent banter before doing the farewells, a quick dip of the toe in the cold waters of Mummy before high-tailing it off to MacArthur Glen in search of an elusive tea-pot, dinner on the road at the Ol' Mustard Pot and home in time for Eurovision. Just call us masters of timing!
On the available evidence, of two days, we'd chosen by far the better of the bank holiday evenings for dinner al fresco. Perfect fluffy clouds slowly giving way to crystal blue sky as we sat sipping our various beverages on the patio, cordially greeting each new arrival, sharing the latest craic and the pre-dinner nibbles before moving on to the more serious business of burgers, sausages, chicken (piri-piri, honeyed and on the bone), prawns, shashlik and kebabs. Salad, buns, french stick. Roulade, raspberry tart, chocolate fudge pudding and barbecued bananas with choc chip surprise.
And a 1am finish. Superb.
The expansive hospitality of our guests didn't end there though. Full cooked breakfast and more excellent banter before doing the farewells, a quick dip of the toe in the cold waters of Mummy before high-tailing it off to MacArthur Glen in search of an elusive tea-pot, dinner on the road at the Ol' Mustard Pot and home in time for Eurovision. Just call us masters of timing!
Saturday, May 15, 2010
Location, Location, Location
This could have been a poignant event for us, as it's (obviously) ten years since the celebrations for the 40th anniversary, which we had a large hand in organising, and - whisper it quietly - 5 years since the 45th anniversary, for which we also did some organising but which turned out to be an event on a much smaller scale, but the general mood was upbeat rather than reflective.
We elected this time to be participants rather than organisers. For one thing Corrie fandom doesn't figure so large in our lives any longer, but the main point is we figured we'd done our bit and it was time to hand over the reins to someone else.
So it was nice to spend a relaxed day in the company of friends old and new, and join in with an organised tour of some of the many locations in and around Manchester and Salford which are used for filming. Our host, who as well as leading around 60 such tours each year also travels the world in the company of Corrie stars past and present, interviewing them and giving talks on production, history and trivia, is a wealth of information and a very entertaining tour guide. The rain held off for the most part, we enjoyed lunch near Ashton marketplace and visited some of the more hidden parts of Manchester - like the one pictured above - which we ordinarily wouldn't get to see.
The tour finished at 4pm, but that felt way too early to call it a day, so we whiled away a couple of hours in the Ox (another memory-filled venue) chatting over a few pints, and later five of us repaired to Dimitri's for a delicious Greek meal before heading home. Chalk up another great day!
Thursday, May 06, 2010
Another day, another curry
This month's curry night had a completely different flavour, and this was not only down to a change of venue. We returned to Eastern Revive, which I've only visited once before, having patronised the well-blogged Ayo Gurkhali many times in recent months. I enjoyed a monumental Chicken Tikka Nagpuri, a dish with a robust yet delicate flavour and which left a gentle but satisfying tingle on the lips.
But the real change this time round was in the extended attendee list. One of our "regulars" who actually hardly ever makes managed to carve an evening out of his busy schedule, but perhaps more significantly we enjoyed the company of two "guest" curry lovers neither of whom I've seen for several years. It was really good to catch up with them, chat over their current challenges and successes, and share mine, over a couple of pints and a pleasant meal. I hope now they've broken their duck they'll be back more regularly in the future, as the dynamic of the group was elevated several degrees by their presence and the whole evening, already something I always look forward to, was given an even keener edge with the two new perspectives, tales and opinions.
For many years, and for many reasons too numerous (and some of them too painful) to mention, I built an artificial barrier between my social life and my working life. While many of the guys I now share a monthly curry with developed strong, deep and lasting friendships with colleagues that have in some cases survived several changes of career, I was working when at work, and socialising only with people I didn't work with. Ten years ago I started tearing that barrier down, among others, and bulldozing a road to a better future. Friendships are too important - and good ones too rare - to restrict your chances of finding them, or building them, to any one part of life. They can pop up any time, in any place, and for any reason. Took me way too long to learn that lesson.
But the real change this time round was in the extended attendee list. One of our "regulars" who actually hardly ever makes managed to carve an evening out of his busy schedule, but perhaps more significantly we enjoyed the company of two "guest" curry lovers neither of whom I've seen for several years. It was really good to catch up with them, chat over their current challenges and successes, and share mine, over a couple of pints and a pleasant meal. I hope now they've broken their duck they'll be back more regularly in the future, as the dynamic of the group was elevated several degrees by their presence and the whole evening, already something I always look forward to, was given an even keener edge with the two new perspectives, tales and opinions.
For many years, and for many reasons too numerous (and some of them too painful) to mention, I built an artificial barrier between my social life and my working life. While many of the guys I now share a monthly curry with developed strong, deep and lasting friendships with colleagues that have in some cases survived several changes of career, I was working when at work, and socialising only with people I didn't work with. Ten years ago I started tearing that barrier down, among others, and bulldozing a road to a better future. Friendships are too important - and good ones too rare - to restrict your chances of finding them, or building them, to any one part of life. They can pop up any time, in any place, and for any reason. Took me way too long to learn that lesson.
Saturday, April 24, 2010
Chocolate heaven since... er... 1657
One of the unique, clever and impeccably thoughtful gifts I received from Nikki last Christmas (her gifts always fall into at least two of those categories and more often than not all three. I don't know how she does it) was a voucher for a two-person "taste experience." A choice of any one of about two dozen venues dotted around the UK where we could turn up together and be treated to something foodie.
Options included cheese tasting, wine tasting and gourmet dining, but the only one with the combined benefits of most attractive nosh and proximity was the Famous 1657 Chocolate House at Kendal.
Normally of course this wouldn't tick the proximity box but as we set off this morning for a week in the Lakes Kendal was only a tiny diversion on the way to Wasdale. We arrived with plenty of time to spare. After a short riverside walk to kill that time we climbed the worn stone steps (which presumably have been trodden every day since 1657) and, not really knowing what to expect, crossed the threshold.
The current proprietor greeted us, ushered us to our reserved table in the window and introduced our own personal serving wench. She then ran through the details of exactly what our taste experience would entail.
We began with a mug of hot chocolate from a bewildering choice of flavours (we both selected the spicy "Aztec" option) accompanied by a slice of chocolate cake from an even larger list. Most of these are made in-house from traditional recipes developed by the original owner, although a small number (three on our menu for today, as far as I remember) are bought-in from local cake shops to swell the variety on offer.
Both were delicious.
After a short pause and a glass of water to refresh the palate, the wench returned bearing a plate of cut fruit and four small pots of pure melted chocolate - one each of dark and milk - in which to dip the fruit.
Heaven on a plate, and surprisingly filling. Once the fruit had been consumed we climbed the tiny spiral staircase to a comfy lounge to watch a short film on the growing, harvesting and production of the cocoa bean, after which we were invited into the emporium's basement shop to select 100g each from their handmade chocolate selection.
All told we were there just over an hour, and left well sated with our 100g bags (it worked out at 7-8 choccies each) tucked away for later. What a brilliant Christmas treat. Thanks babe!
Options included cheese tasting, wine tasting and gourmet dining, but the only one with the combined benefits of most attractive nosh and proximity was the Famous 1657 Chocolate House at Kendal.
The current proprietor greeted us, ushered us to our reserved table in the window and introduced our own personal serving wench. She then ran through the details of exactly what our taste experience would entail.
Both were delicious.
After a short pause and a glass of water to refresh the palate, the wench returned bearing a plate of cut fruit and four small pots of pure melted chocolate - one each of dark and milk - in which to dip the fruit.
All told we were there just over an hour, and left well sated with our 100g bags (it worked out at 7-8 choccies each) tucked away for later. What a brilliant Christmas treat. Thanks babe!
Thursday, December 17, 2009
The last curry of 2009
...and my fourth celebratory Christmas dinner... a curry with the Wilmslow crew. A much-reduced crew too, as one of them was busy working the lights at a local panto, and another had poked his eye out (not literally I hope!) when putting the Christmas tree up his fairy. I guess that would be enough to put you off a curry.
So for only the second time, we paid a visit to Ayo Gurkhali. My second time, I should say. The crew went without me once, after our first visit, and two of them had, how shall I put it, a bad intestinal experience. They haven't wanted to return since.
Going back was my idea - I'd really enjoyed the food on that first visit, and I reckoned their gastric upset was either a coincidence or a case of a one-off bad bunch of prawns or something. If we all go down with Montezuma's Revenge I'll be persona non grata for a while!
As always, and even though there were only four of us, it was great to catch up over a couple of pints and a nice meal. The curry easily equalled the quality of last time, and the amazing variety of originally-shaped white porcelain serving dishes still provided a feast for the eyes even as their contents were supplying a feast for the mouth. Adding the final professional touch to the whole experience, the waiters are the very model of polite and friendly service, without being pushy or obsequious.
They do a take-away menu there too. Sadly, I think Wilmslow would be a bit too far removed from home base for them to deliver.
So for only the second time, we paid a visit to Ayo Gurkhali. My second time, I should say. The crew went without me once, after our first visit, and two of them had, how shall I put it, a bad intestinal experience. They haven't wanted to return since.
Going back was my idea - I'd really enjoyed the food on that first visit, and I reckoned their gastric upset was either a coincidence or a case of a one-off bad bunch of prawns or something. If we all go down with Montezuma's Revenge I'll be persona non grata for a while!
As always, and even though there were only four of us, it was great to catch up over a couple of pints and a nice meal. The curry easily equalled the quality of last time, and the amazing variety of originally-shaped white porcelain serving dishes still provided a feast for the eyes even as their contents were supplying a feast for the mouth. Adding the final professional touch to the whole experience, the waiters are the very model of polite and friendly service, without being pushy or obsequious.
They do a take-away menu there too. Sadly, I think Wilmslow would be a bit too far removed from home base for them to deliver.
Friday, December 11, 2009
Another Christmas tradition
I may have commented before on the importance, for any group of friends, colleagues or acquaintances, of having an anchor. That person who takes responsibility for keeping the group together. You can have more than one, but one is the magic number, below which the group will cease to be a group.
It's been a good few years since I worked at the office known as "the airport" (mainly because it was fairly close... to... the airport), but the times we had there were relatively good. Frontier times. Breaking new ground. Or so we thought. Good or not, they were sufficiently memorable for us to want to meet up once a year for a Christmas lunch, and the group has the aforementioned anchor - a lady who at the time was PA to the main man in that office - who is happy, each year, to pull the event together. In the main these annual reunions have been memorable. Until now.
Whether it was the fact that we returned to a restaurant we'd visited a few years ago and the food wasn't as good as that first time, or the seating arrangements were less than ideal, or some of the group couldn't make it so we didn't achieve some sort of critical mass, or because I knew from the off that I had to leave early and stayed on soft drinks the whole time I don't know. Something didn't work for me.
I won't name the restaurant because I honestly believe they don't deserve a bad press for it. Last time we went - about three years ago if I remember right - the food was excellent. This time, it looked and tasted like a million other mass-produced Christmas lunches. Too much dark meat for my liking, light on the cranberry sauce (anyone would think it was the most expensive component of the meal the way they dole it out by the teaspoonful!), the vegetables barely cooked and the piggy in its blanket having a distinct taste of old grease.
For the first time in several years my seat at table was some distance from the members of the group I know best. Worse, I sat directly opposite a woman with whom I had a long-standing disagreement (she drove into me in the office car park and refused to take responsibility) that was never properly resolved, and to the left of a woman I've never seen before - not one of the original group - who was clearly a good friend of my 'nemesis'. Surrounded!
I couldn't even take refuge from these harridans in drink. I had important driving to do which meant leaving at 3.30. It's an enlightening experience to sit, perfectly sober, and watch how quickly a group of people can dissolve into a socially relaxed state when they put their minds to it.
Finally, adding insult to injury, the mediocre meal turned out to be the most expensive of all the Christmas meals I'm planning to attend this year, I was suckered into contributing a tenner to the "drinks kitty" for which I received a single pint of fresh orange and soda, and the city centre car park robbed me of another £8.60.
Just sometimes, maybe, keeping a group together is not such a good thing!
It's been a good few years since I worked at the office known as "the airport" (mainly because it was fairly close... to... the airport), but the times we had there were relatively good. Frontier times. Breaking new ground. Or so we thought. Good or not, they were sufficiently memorable for us to want to meet up once a year for a Christmas lunch, and the group has the aforementioned anchor - a lady who at the time was PA to the main man in that office - who is happy, each year, to pull the event together. In the main these annual reunions have been memorable. Until now.
Whether it was the fact that we returned to a restaurant we'd visited a few years ago and the food wasn't as good as that first time, or the seating arrangements were less than ideal, or some of the group couldn't make it so we didn't achieve some sort of critical mass, or because I knew from the off that I had to leave early and stayed on soft drinks the whole time I don't know. Something didn't work for me.
I won't name the restaurant because I honestly believe they don't deserve a bad press for it. Last time we went - about three years ago if I remember right - the food was excellent. This time, it looked and tasted like a million other mass-produced Christmas lunches. Too much dark meat for my liking, light on the cranberry sauce (anyone would think it was the most expensive component of the meal the way they dole it out by the teaspoonful!), the vegetables barely cooked and the piggy in its blanket having a distinct taste of old grease.
For the first time in several years my seat at table was some distance from the members of the group I know best. Worse, I sat directly opposite a woman with whom I had a long-standing disagreement (she drove into me in the office car park and refused to take responsibility) that was never properly resolved, and to the left of a woman I've never seen before - not one of the original group - who was clearly a good friend of my 'nemesis'. Surrounded!
I couldn't even take refuge from these harridans in drink. I had important driving to do which meant leaving at 3.30. It's an enlightening experience to sit, perfectly sober, and watch how quickly a group of people can dissolve into a socially relaxed state when they put their minds to it.
Finally, adding insult to injury, the mediocre meal turned out to be the most expensive of all the Christmas meals I'm planning to attend this year, I was suckered into contributing a tenner to the "drinks kitty" for which I received a single pint of fresh orange and soda, and the city centre car park robbed me of another £8.60.
Just sometimes, maybe, keeping a group together is not such a good thing!
Thursday, December 03, 2009
The old farts' club
A while ago I hooked up with an ex-colleague who organises a regular lunchtime get-together of people we used to work with. Most of them are now retired but a few continue to work, albeit no longer at "the old firm."
Since these gatherings are held during the working day and a good half-hour's drive south of here (Thursdays, as it happens) I don't normally attend, but THIS month's was their annual Christmas lunch and the combination of the first turkey dinner of the season, a few hours off work, and the chance to catch up with so many familiar faces (some of whom I haven't seen for 20 years) proved irresistible.
It was an enjoyable event. Intellectual conversation, bags of laughs, a meal that - almost unheard of for seasonal lunches - managed to combine good value, excellent quality, perfect quantity and superlative service, and best of all the chance to catch up with one of the best, if not THE best, managers I've ever had and one of the aforementioned twenty-year absentees.
I spent most of the drive home in reflective mood. It's not unusual for reunions to affect me like that. This one served to highlight the stark contrast between those I used to work with and those I work with now. And perhaps more poignantly, those I used to work for and those I work for now. Because it seems to me that the managers from those bygone days were actually capable of demonstrating some leadership skills. They recognised that their job consisted primarily of rock-moving, to allow us techies to get on with the job unhindered by any of those rocks in our paths. They nurtured, they mentored, they protected us from the shit.
Their modern-day counterparts are good at saying "go here, do this, don't do that," but that's as far as their "skills" go.
As a result, a workplace where once we could always count on having some fun alongside the serious work, and which naturally therefore made that serious work pass more quickly, enjoyably and successfully, has been replaced with one where the overriding feelings are of stress, fatigue and sullen resignation. Where every technical skill is treated as the same technical skill, and consequently every technical body is just another technical body to be shunted from one repetitive task to another, irrespective of experience, personal preference, or ability.
Back then there was pride in expertise, and time allowed to grow it. Now we're all fed through the mincer, forced to be jacks-of-all-trades and masters of none. As Squatter may once have asked: "Is this any way to run a fucking ballroom?"
It's good to be reminded every now and then how bad things have got. *cough* It's either that, or give up going to Christmas lunches.
Since these gatherings are held during the working day and a good half-hour's drive south of here (Thursdays, as it happens) I don't normally attend, but THIS month's was their annual Christmas lunch and the combination of the first turkey dinner of the season, a few hours off work, and the chance to catch up with so many familiar faces (some of whom I haven't seen for 20 years) proved irresistible.
It was an enjoyable event. Intellectual conversation, bags of laughs, a meal that - almost unheard of for seasonal lunches - managed to combine good value, excellent quality, perfect quantity and superlative service, and best of all the chance to catch up with one of the best, if not THE best, managers I've ever had and one of the aforementioned twenty-year absentees.
I spent most of the drive home in reflective mood. It's not unusual for reunions to affect me like that. This one served to highlight the stark contrast between those I used to work with and those I work with now. And perhaps more poignantly, those I used to work for and those I work for now. Because it seems to me that the managers from those bygone days were actually capable of demonstrating some leadership skills. They recognised that their job consisted primarily of rock-moving, to allow us techies to get on with the job unhindered by any of those rocks in our paths. They nurtured, they mentored, they protected us from the shit.
Their modern-day counterparts are good at saying "go here, do this, don't do that," but that's as far as their "skills" go.
As a result, a workplace where once we could always count on having some fun alongside the serious work, and which naturally therefore made that serious work pass more quickly, enjoyably and successfully, has been replaced with one where the overriding feelings are of stress, fatigue and sullen resignation. Where every technical skill is treated as the same technical skill, and consequently every technical body is just another technical body to be shunted from one repetitive task to another, irrespective of experience, personal preference, or ability.
Back then there was pride in expertise, and time allowed to grow it. Now we're all fed through the mincer, forced to be jacks-of-all-trades and masters of none. As Squatter may once have asked: "Is this any way to run a fucking ballroom?"
It's good to be reminded every now and then how bad things have got. *cough* It's either that, or give up going to Christmas lunches.
Saturday, October 03, 2009
Meeting up with old friends
Umm... perhaps "old" friends was not such a sensitive title. She's not *that* much older than us. But she does have a bus pass. Yes, this afternoon we got together with an old Corrie mate for drinks and a meal and to pass on hugs from a variety of mutual friends. We've not seen her in Manchester since our housewarming party at our previous house, which was over seven years ago.
We decided it would be fun to maintain the Corrie connection by starting off at the Grapes - the pub in town owned by Liz Dawn. It has a nice atmosphere and although the beer isn't the best, it is passable. We found some very comfortable armchairs and settled back (almost too far back) for a natter. As usual it was difficult to make yourself heard over the bar music and we hadn't helped ourselves by sitting almost directly under one of the speakers, so after only one pint we ventured further down Deansgate and onto Liverpool Road in the direction of the Ox. Another old favourite of ours - we've even stayed there on occasion - and another pub with a Corrie connection (in this case, the site of the general assembly of fans last time we visited the set).
Food at the Ox continues to win awards, so along with a pint of Deuchars we found ourselves a table and ordered something substantial from the menu. Pork & Leek sausages on herby mash for me, followed by a delicious raspberry & vanilla panacotta.
I've noticed recently that although pub portions often look small when they arrive, they prove extremely filling. Maybe they've discovered a secret ingredient that expands in the stomach, or maybe it's an age thing. Either way, once we were done no-one had room for more beer, and having talked non-stop for four hours or more there was no more catching up to be done, so we headed home.
We decided it would be fun to maintain the Corrie connection by starting off at the Grapes - the pub in town owned by Liz Dawn. It has a nice atmosphere and although the beer isn't the best, it is passable. We found some very comfortable armchairs and settled back (almost too far back) for a natter. As usual it was difficult to make yourself heard over the bar music and we hadn't helped ourselves by sitting almost directly under one of the speakers, so after only one pint we ventured further down Deansgate and onto Liverpool Road in the direction of the Ox. Another old favourite of ours - we've even stayed there on occasion - and another pub with a Corrie connection (in this case, the site of the general assembly of fans last time we visited the set).
Food at the Ox continues to win awards, so along with a pint of Deuchars we found ourselves a table and ordered something substantial from the menu. Pork & Leek sausages on herby mash for me, followed by a delicious raspberry & vanilla panacotta.
I've noticed recently that although pub portions often look small when they arrive, they prove extremely filling. Maybe they've discovered a secret ingredient that expands in the stomach, or maybe it's an age thing. Either way, once we were done no-one had room for more beer, and having talked non-stop for four hours or more there was no more catching up to be done, so we headed home.
Friday, October 02, 2009
Ayo Gurkhali
Things move fast in the apparently sleepy sleeper town of Wilmslow. The curry house we visited for Simon's "not" stag do back in July - Garlic Spice - had closed down when we gathered again for the monthly curry last month. Clearly their Summer Special was TOO good a deal!
But lo! Now it has re-opened under another name, and with a fetching purple neon frontage. It's "Ayo Gurkhali" now. Which, when I Googled it to see if anyone else had written a review, I discovered is the Gurkha's war cry of "The Gurkhas are coming!" (or "the Gurkhas are here!" depending on which source you trust).
Well they're certainly here alright. Here being Wilmslow, and Nepalese cuisine being what they're all about. Dressed very smartly in what I took to be Gurkha outfits and attentive without being servile or pushy, the waiters introduced the various Nepalese dishes and made helpful suggestions when called for, but otherwise left us alone to "enjoy" the strange music while we pondered our menu choices.
After a short while drooling over the delights of the chef's specials (they do a range of more traditional curries - madras, jalfrezi, etc - but fully half the menu is devoted to "proper" Nepalese dishes, which we all chose in the end. Well... there's not much point going to a Nepalese restaurant and having a chicken vindaloo, is there?) we discovered that the new restaurant also had a meal deal on. Slightly more expensive at £11.95 than the Garlic Spice's Summer Special - which hopefully will mean they make enough profit to stay in business - the deal included poppadums, starter, main, rice or naan, coffee or tea. Another bargain! Although once I'd waded my way through all that, I found myself wishing I'd paid only a few pence less and missed out the starter. Once again I was full to the point of pain. Will I ever learn?
It was worth it though. The food - uniformly excellent - arrived in REAL PORCELAIN serving dishes! Which came as a very pleasant surprise to someone who's used to having his curry served in the rather more traditional battered tin bowl sat atop a tea-light-fired heater. No heaters here - the porcelain kept the meals hot enough - and each meal had a different, intriguingly-shaped dish! Nice heavy modern cutlery too - not something that looks like it was stolen from Boots' canteen. All these little touches add up to a much classier and more refined experience than "yer usual curry house" and guaranteed we would be back to explore the extensive menu in greater depth next time.
I chose Gurkhali Cham Cham for my main course and I can't begin to tell you how good it was, except that it contains most of my favourite herbs and spices and came with some of the fluffiest boiled rice I've ever tasted. Brilliant. I'm already thinking about what I'll have on my next visit.
But lo! Now it has re-opened under another name, and with a fetching purple neon frontage. It's "Ayo Gurkhali" now. Which, when I Googled it to see if anyone else had written a review, I discovered is the Gurkha's war cry of "The Gurkhas are coming!" (or "the Gurkhas are here!" depending on which source you trust).
Well they're certainly here alright. Here being Wilmslow, and Nepalese cuisine being what they're all about. Dressed very smartly in what I took to be Gurkha outfits and attentive without being servile or pushy, the waiters introduced the various Nepalese dishes and made helpful suggestions when called for, but otherwise left us alone to "enjoy" the strange music while we pondered our menu choices.
After a short while drooling over the delights of the chef's specials (they do a range of more traditional curries - madras, jalfrezi, etc - but fully half the menu is devoted to "proper" Nepalese dishes, which we all chose in the end. Well... there's not much point going to a Nepalese restaurant and having a chicken vindaloo, is there?) we discovered that the new restaurant also had a meal deal on. Slightly more expensive at £11.95 than the Garlic Spice's Summer Special - which hopefully will mean they make enough profit to stay in business - the deal included poppadums, starter, main, rice or naan, coffee or tea. Another bargain! Although once I'd waded my way through all that, I found myself wishing I'd paid only a few pence less and missed out the starter. Once again I was full to the point of pain. Will I ever learn?
It was worth it though. The food - uniformly excellent - arrived in REAL PORCELAIN serving dishes! Which came as a very pleasant surprise to someone who's used to having his curry served in the rather more traditional battered tin bowl sat atop a tea-light-fired heater. No heaters here - the porcelain kept the meals hot enough - and each meal had a different, intriguingly-shaped dish! Nice heavy modern cutlery too - not something that looks like it was stolen from Boots' canteen. All these little touches add up to a much classier and more refined experience than "yer usual curry house" and guaranteed we would be back to explore the extensive menu in greater depth next time.
I chose Gurkhali Cham Cham for my main course and I can't begin to tell you how good it was, except that it contains most of my favourite herbs and spices and came with some of the fluffiest boiled rice I've ever tasted. Brilliant. I'm already thinking about what I'll have on my next visit.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
