At London’s Euston overground station, there was a bit of a shocker waiting for me and my travel companions from around the world. The 10am train to Manchester stood ‘cancelled’!
Now what, we all wondered.
“No worries. We’ll take the one at 9.40,” assured Jane Chapman, our host from VisitBritain. And so, what had looked like a jinxed start to the day turned out to be quite a reassuring one.
We were all nicely tucked away in our respective cosy seats as the 9.40 Virgin express service to Manchester pulled out of Euston a tad behind schedule.
After a sumptuous breakfast at London’s Mondrian Hotel on the Southbank of Thames, food was certainly not on my mind for the two-hour ride to the industrious city up north. But the weather was. BBC Weather had forecast light rains and a possibility of snow. But by the time we were out of Manchester station, it was bright and sunny, and for the first time during the week-long tour, my Carrera sunnies were pulled out of hibernation from deep inside the handbag.
The Innside Hotel on First Street was quite a visual treat with its contemporary decor and its towering glass facade. But even before I could check in, what caught my eye was a place called Indian Tiffin Room next door. For the first time since leaving Dubai, I could feel a mild hint of a longing for a dosa.
But immediately I was reminded about Jane’s travel advisory that included high tea at what promised to be a picturesque venue in the heart of Manchester. And believe you me, if you ever happen to be in the city, skipping Cloud 23 will be no less than committing a cardinal sin!
Located on the 23rd floor of a towering structure that forms part of the Hilton annex, Cloud 23 made me feel like I was on cloud nine. A breathtaking view, offering an almost 360-degree panoramic eye on Manchester, coupled with scrumptious savouries and sweets and endless steaming cups of Earl Grey, simply made my day. Our hosts were as generous with their warmth as the black-and-gold liquid in those bone china pots. The souffles, the tarts, the sandwiches, and those lemon-flavoured pastries were all polished off in no time and I was glad I had ignored my dosa-pangs!
Later in the evening, a pre-theatre meal at The Rivals — the restaurant at Royal Exchange, where we would be privy to the opening night of Frankenstein — was just as exhilarating. Some lively theatre-talk with executive director Mark Dobson and press officer Paula Rabbitt further spiced up the dinner menu.
Sunny side up
In fact, reacting to a query on why the restaurant was named The Rivals (a play by Richard Brinsley Sheridan), Rabbitt told Gulf News tabloid!: “The Rivals was the first play to be staged at the Royal Exchange. Hence the name of the restaurant.”
I started off with some ham hock egg, very discretely laced with homemade brown sauce. The eggs, fried in a light coating of bread crumbs and signature herbs, tasted immaculately fresh and yummy, with the brown sauce making it a ‘two-to-tango’.
For mains, I opted for the herb roasted chicken. And my choice was very graciously endorsed by one of our hostesses. About 20 minutes later, I knew why. Two medium-sized roasted chicken breasts, pristinely nestled in chicken juices and bread sauce, were served in a pool of lentils a la francaise. The mildly hot and tangy flavour perfectly complementing the sweet after-taste of the eggs.
My day was done — dead sure that the herb roasted chicken didn’t have a rival in The Rivals.
Post-dinner, heading for my designated seat at the Royal Exchange, I was convinced there could be no ‘creature’ in Frankenstein — only a highly creative phantasmagoria! Life’s good.
The following morning, with the threat of rain clouds hovering above us, we dashed off to Royal Exchange Costume Centre in the Northern Quarters. But not before a kingly breakfast at the Innside restaurant.
Fried eggs — sunny side up, of course — chicken sausages, an assortment of breads and croissants, cornflakes, washed down with fresh fruit juices, tea and coffee. The spread was huge and varied enough to make sure you started the day all guns blazing.
The visit to the Costume Centre was quite a revelation. A house full of garments, clothing and fashion accessories used for on-stage performances as well as for that odd day out at the famous Goodwood races to make a powerful fashion statement. You name it, they have it. An ensemble cast — on rent.
But barely few yards from the Costume Centre an ensemble cast of a different kind greeted us. Mackie Mayor on Eagle Street was an esoteric blend of street food feel with an air of world cuisine. The high-pitched, animated conversations over food and beverages reminded me of the iconic Coffee House on Kolkata’s College Street: The eastern Indian metropolis’s intellectual hot spot of the 1970s and ‘80s that has since fallen into some decadence — both in terms of culinary delights and visionary pursuits of those frequenting it.
We were greeted by John McGrath, artistic director of the biennial Manchester International Festival. The din in and around was a little too much, but it was all part of the ambience. I opted for something light, just a bowl of lentil soup and bread. It was steaming hot and fresh out of the pot. I was just too full to look anywhere beyond that. But Mackie Mayor struck me with its livewire atmosphere. Imagine a football crowd melding into a pack of office-goers.
An opera at The Lowry was scheduled to be the crowning glory of my Britain tour. Composer Giuseppe Verdi’s masterpiece Un ballo in maschera (A Masked Ball) was every bit a riveting show with its heart-wrenching portrayal of a tragic love triangle. But minutes earlier, at the Pier Eight restaurant on The Quays in The Lowry, tragedy was the last thing on our minds as my travel companions and I tucked into some lip-smacking pre-theatre dinner.
With a two-course meal and the promise of a pudding to be served at the interval, could we have asked for more? My choice of starter was black pudding egg, that was served with an apple chutney, pickled celery salad and creme fraiche. This was followed by the main course: Roast chicken breast, savoy cabbage, roasted parsnip, Boulangere potato. The pudding at the interval was chocolate gateau with espresso ice-cream. ‘Happy endings’ can scarcely have a better meaning.
Unlike Verdi’s creation that ended in death and gloom, my trip to Britain was many-splendoured, decisively winning over the wind and the rain.
