Sunday, 24 June 2012

The Place To Eat John Lewis Trafford Centre Manchester


Danny wanted to go here, I didn't particularly. An afternoon tea for 2 at £10.95 cought my eye at the first counter. It looked uninspiring. If I choose to order a sandwich I prefer to see it being buttered in front of my eyes before I eat it. We stood beside the scones and a young girl asked if she could help us. Danny chose a cherry scone. She asked us if there was anything else; she was rushing me. I said I'd have a fruit scone. She grabbed some metal tongues from a receptacle, dripped the water off the end of them and scooped the scones up. I thought about wet scones.  She then spoke a couple of sentences of gibberish and looked at me. There was a pause, I frowned and said, "Er, sorry...what?". She said the exact same words again, this time slowly and I did recognise it as English. "Anything else, any sandwiches, hot food, anything else  from any of the other counters?"  I said, "no thanks" and she very quickly came back with "any hot drinks?"  We plumped for two americanos. As she saw to the coffees we grabbed milk, jam, a knife and spoons from the counter in front of us. We paid £8.30 and went to find a table. The Place To Eat was bustling with shoppers and  families. This is not the place to eat if you have an aversion to  double buggies. Our table was in a thoroughfare, next to a Japanese family with two young kids. A mother and daughter plus shopping bags occupied a table behind us. Our table was wet and whiffed ever so slightly of damp dish cloths. The coffees were of top percentile standard. The well heeled  Japanese family were munching through  several courses of food, the children were heartily tucking into chips. The mother was shovelling food into one of young boy's mouths, opening her own mouth at the exact same time. I thought about the amount of money they must have spent here. Danny enjoyed his cherry scone and Rodda's cream. He raved about his coffee, and still is. My scone was ok, I've had better, there wasn't much evidence of fruit within them. The Place To Eat is clean, busy, serves excellent coffee and the staff appear well primed in sticking to their script. I imagine there are people who think The Place To Eat is the best thing since sliced bread and are not afraid to tell all their friends.  Despite the fancy lights, for me, the place was soulless

s

Friday, 8 June 2012

Mario's Fish Bar (Tony's) Eccles Precinct




I started working here, aged 15, clearing tables. Me and my friend Paula worked every Saturday from 8.15 am to 6.30 pm with only half an hour break, for £7.50. I worked a couple of week days after school, from 4pm till 6.30 for 2 quid.
We entered Mario's (it will always be Mario's to me) via the chippy, still with the wood panelling I remember so well, albeit is slightly grubbier than when I used to stand behind the counter. The same hatch in front of me, from which I used to regale Tracey Dodson with tales from the previous night’s pub crawls. To my left, behind the take away counter, proudly displayed, is a framed photo of Robson Green with a couple of be-tabbarded girls. We exited the chippy stage right , through to the café. I chose the table with the most leg room, having remembered where it was. The tables are the ones I cleared and wiped as a teenager, the seats re-upholstered and the wood panelling has been tickled with cream paint. Danny went up to the counter and ordered curry and chips and a coffee for me, tea for himself; which he reported was decent (all for less than 3 pounds).  For the duration, I was a crashing bore, reminiscing about this and that. There was the wall me and Paula used to clean. The number of times I have mopped/ swept this floor, and other such scintillating anecdotes.  To our right sat a table full of women, having a right laugh. In front of us a tubby family tucking into a plate of fish and peas each.
Mario’s is bedraggled and tatty, the staff are sad. The waitress ignored me when I sent my compliments to the chef, preferring to eye up Danny. Calling this place a hidden gem would be a cliché, but Mario's serves the very best chips for miles. Topped with Dinaclass curry  -you don’t need to win the lottery.