Playfoots Monton Road Monton

Monton Road thinks it’s Didsbury these days. Café culture, beards, babies, dogs. Here goes. Playfoots is warm inside. Has the original timber floor.  Behind the hatch I can see a woman at the griddle. We are greeted by a very enthusiastic slim woman wearing a T shirt, upon the front of which is emblazoned , “The Who”. I order 2 breakfasts, one filter coffee and one tea. "Good choice", came the retort. I pay just short of a tenner. We take our seats by the window. The interior of Playfoots contains about 5 small two seater tables, with tables outside too. A girl from the kitchen brought us our drinks. I carefully looked underneath my cup and observed it was from ikea. The breakfasts arrived. Our waitress looked flustered, I hadn’t noticed but she had just nearly dropped the lot when she was coming out of the kitchen. She asked me if I had seen it, I said I hadn’t. The bacon wasn’t crispy, it was scorched on the outside but parts were still chewy. The bacon had not been fried properly. The little fat that was on it, I cut off and didn’t eat. The egg was overcooked, yolk was nearly set. The beans were luke warm. The two sausages, although not brown all the way round tasted herby and the skin on the outside was not tough at all. The tinned tomatoes were piping hot and the mushrooms were sliced and had been fried, their edges brown and their texture soft. Lovely.  I can’t be doing with black pudding so I traded mine for Danny’s mushrooms. We had 2 rounds of toast each which were toasted, from good quality white bread, to a deep golden brown. I would have preferred it to be cut on the diagonal, but only because my mum used to do it like that when I lived at home. I was served filter coffee, which was very nice indeed. Business was brisk, a constant stream of customers and gossip. There was a lot of talk of the new chef at Blacksticks , big news in Monton I am guessing. I saw a couple I knew, they sat outside with the paper and a couple of bacon barms.  The Who fan came over to us and asked if everything was ok with our food, she didn’t have a local accent and sang her words out, lingering for far too long on the “ay” syllable  in okay. Me and Danny both agreed we’d come here again, on account of the advertised “Oven” Baked Jackets, which are very reasonably priced at just over a couple of quid. All finished, off we trotted to go and look round the charity shops and maybe take in Tescos. Things have come a long way in Monton. In the 70s my Mum used to bring me to a shop on Monton Road, called MacIntyre’s, where I used to be kitted out with a school uniform. The shop was run by two elderly women that my Mum said were “spinsters”.

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Jean's Scullery Liverpool Street Salford

Opposite the Holiday Inn, Salford, is where Jean’s Scullery can be found. Danny’s idea to take me here for Breakfast, parking available on a bit of waste ground at the back. Just through the front doors we saw a sign boasting of “All Day Breakfasts” for £3.60 and we were sold. Apart from ourselves, one other customer. A man wearing a fluorescent coat. He was sitting over by the window and I could see there was a lot of steam coming off his plate of food. I ordered 2 all day breakfasts and I asked for our bacon and sausage to be “well done”. The woman gave me a look. I sensed it. From under the counter and out of our sight she produced two serviettes quickly followed by 2 knives and 2 forks which were plonked on top. She asked us whether we wanted tea or coffee, Danny paid and I scooped up our accoutrements and we went and sat in a corner table. The man in the window was stuffing his food in. Joan’s Scullery is dark but not unwelcoming and at the same time the staff are not over familiar. A mug carrying woman approached us, stood near the table and holding one of the mugs up in the air she asked “tea?”. Danny motioned that it was his and she put the other mug in front of me. My mug contained instant coffee, Nescafe, not dissimilar in colour to the tea. Danny commented that none of the cutlery matched. We didn’t wait too long for our breakfasts. I knew as soon as she put the plate in front of me that I was going to like it. My instincts were not wrong. The man in the fluorescent jacket caught my eye and as he breezed past I heard him say this to the woman behind the counter; “that was absolutely bloody lovely that”. Then he disappeared out of the front door. The woman who served us got the mop bucket out. We were still eating. She proceeded to sweep up first but we left, I assume, before she started on the mopping. We both thanked her for the food, I told her it was great. The shutters went down as we walked out. I don’t suppose the residents of the Holiday Inn had as nice a breakfast as us.

s.