Bites: Home Sweet Home x2

Going out for breakfast is always one of the best things about going away (mornings at home usually involve something green and straight out the Nutribullet), and some serious amounts of beer on our recent trip to Manchester demanded serious amounts of ballast. 

So as Sunday morning dawned - an hour earlier thanks to the start of British Summertime - and we emerged a little fuzzy-headed, brunch at the new branch of Home Sweet Home seemed the perfect way to get the seasonal spring back in our step. 

With the original location in the Northern Quarter being as well known for its long lines that wind out the door at the weekend than for its bakes and breakfasts, this bigger spot in the Great Northern - with a large outdoor area for less inclement weather - makes a welcome addition for those who prefer their cakes without the queues. 

Losing an hour of shut eye also meant their free refill drip coffee was particularly welcome on our arrival, although shifting to British Summer Time meant we only just made it for the noon cut-off point for brunch; slackers beware. 

Being a vowed egg-avoider, breakfast can often be a tricky prospect. Yes, sometimes you can simply omit the egg component (or shift the unwanted ovum to your wife's plate - YUM! - TE), but often they compose a critical part of a dish, or indeed the whole menu - don't worry about that order it anyway - TE). As the saying goes; you can’t make an omelette without breaking eggs.

Which is why a menu featuring pancakes (eggs disguised in a batter are clearly ok) filled me with a frisson of joy, especially when the pancakes are the size of wagon wheels and come studded with bananas and topped with cinnamon butter and a side of double bacon. A Triple D worthy dish of deliciousness. You’re also in luck if you’ve had a heavy night and are struggling to get up and at ‘em, as these fluffy discs of wonder are served all day.

The Ewing debated between their hashes - crispy breakfast potatoes, eggs and variety of meats and veg and topped with melty cheese - and their benedicts - similar, but with an English muffin base and topped with hollandaise. In the end the Eggs Cali; a benedict based around house cured salmon and smashed avocado, finished with fresh peppers, onion and coriander; won out.

While poached eggs (possibly, along with hard-boiled, the very worst kind) are an integral part of a benny, I always think that hollandaise sauce (plus chipotle soured cream and avocado) provide sufficient lubrication without the need for an oozing yolk and I would have happily eaten this eggless. I might have still added a side of double bacon, though.

Unsurprisingly, after what had come before, even we struggled to contemplate ordering a slice of the magnificently gaudy array of cakes that we had passed on the way in. Less surprising was the fact that my wife's selective memory recalled me saying we would definitely still have time for a slice during our trip, forgetting that this was our last day before going home....

Which is how we ended up in their Northern Quarter branch merely hours after our brunch, eyeing up which one of these beauties to have for afternoon tea. It was a tough choice, but I found it hard to see past the 'Take a Peace of Me', a towering chocolate and peanut butter creation, quite literally - this thing was huge. 

While looking the part, it was pretty heavy on the frosting; a necessary concession, I suppose, to preserve structural integrity and to keep the cake light and moist. Indeed, the chocolate sponge itself was exemplary. And although the nutty flavour was a bit absent in the buttercream this was more than made up for by the hefty chunk of peace sign - resembling a certain well-known brand of chocolate peanut butter cup - that came embedded in the top.

After all the excitement, the Ewing was a little bit disappointed by her slice. While the vanilla chocolate marble sponge was, again, springy and light, the coconut flavour was more a waft of tropical breeze than a  full-on Ambre Solaire assault. I think she was also regretting not choosing the chocolatiest cake in the cabinet, which is her usual default position. 

On going to the counter to pay it was almost as if they knew she was missing her cocoa fix, the very kind chap cutting the bakes gifted us of a leftover piece of Easter egg and caramel cake (deemed too small to sell - it too was a behemoth) to take home. A very welcome, if rather unorthodox, start to the day when eaten the following morning and one that firmly met the Ewing's seal of approval. I, however, finished off the rest of the Easter haul. After all, it's not often I like eggs for breakfast.

Oh Manchester, so much to answer for

Easter time usually sees us take a trip to Leeds, for a long weekend of eating simnel cake, playing petanque and not winning the pub quiz. This year, however, saw a change of plan, being as my aunt and uncle decided for some unfathomable reason they would rather be sunning themselves on Bondi Beach instead of dodging hail stones in Wetherby.  There's nowt queer as folk.

While I was ruing missing out on a customary surfeit of roast beef and red wine, having four days off work gave us the perfect excuse to traverse the Pennines to enjoy a surfeit of breweries and beer shops. And a pretty big hangover.

First up on Saturday was an early morning trip across a Piccadilly trading estate for a tour and tasting at Cloudwater Brew Co. At just over a year old, they are already one of Britain's most lauded breweries and have created quite a stir with their innovative range of 'modern, seasonal beers'.

We had booked in for the 11 o'clock tour and, being as it's never too early for a beer when on holiday, we were greeted with a schooner of US Light Comet - a session IPA brewed to mimic the lite lagers ubiquitous in the US. A sensible start as the sun was not yet over the yard arm and a refreshing beer for a hot summer session (we'd be so lucky).

While there’s not a huge amount to see on the tour – the brewery and tap are all housed in one large unit and once you’ve seen one holding tank, you’ve seen them all - our guide, one of the half a dozen brewers working at the brewery, was friendly and knowledgeable. The experience probably best suited those who know their sparging from their spontaneous fermentation and want to ask more in-depth questions about home-brewing or their business strategy. 

It was also interesting to hear about some new experiments, based on their seasonal ethos, including the very lively barrel I was stood next to, which lead to a hypnotic few minutes watching the froth intermittently gush up through the bung.

After the tour was some more tasting and first up was the one we’d all been hoping for; their DIPA v.3 straight from the tank. If you have even the most cursory interest in all things keg-related, their DIPA is the beer on everyone’s lips. Or not, as the case may be, with limited stocks meaning this stuff is rarer than a brewer without a beard.

I have to confess, I haven’t tried the previous incarnations – v1 passed me by and by the time v2 was out I had already planned our beery tour up North, and wanted to have something to look forward to. The official release for this wasn't until the Brewdog AGM last weekend, but I had my fingers crossed we’d get a sneak preview. This was a tropical explosion, with a resinous chewiness and a light smack of booze on the finish. Certainly up there with the recent BBNO double IPA and Beavertown's Double Chin.

Beer nerdishness aside, we also tried a couple more of their spring/summer range in the form of the session IPA E.431, named after the 'experimental new hop' E.341 and brewed with German Comet hops and the black lager, like a summery black IPA and a great accompaniment to the bread and olives that appeared Jesus-like on our table while I was in the bathroom (I have many skills - TE). 

I was very pleased to pick up a bottle of Hibernate Imperial stout for our cellar (cupboard under the stairs) from the onsite bottle shop. Although I was also pretty gutted that the last two bottles of IPA Citra that I had only heard great things about had literally just been nabbed from their tower of beer. The fact I was already pretty pissed softened the blow somewhat.

After finally leaving Cloudwater, a few hours after we had planned and several pounds down (monetary, unfortunately), we only had a short stagger to Track Brewery, who were holding an Easter Brewtap in conjunction with Squark Brewing Co. Although it was early afternoon, the party was already in full swing, with lots of beer - both keg and cask - from both breweries, a DJ on the decks and sparkly vegan cakes (I stuck with a bag of prawn cocktail Seabrooks to go with my Sonoma Pale Ale)

Mac Daddies were there bringing the food, and how could my wife, who's entering her fortieth year, resist the 1977. Although slightly dubious about the spice level promised by the 'chipotle infused four cheese macaroni with chorizo and spiced onions and topped with rocket and fresh red chillies', it was mercifully benign, heat-wise, if you avoided the fiery discs scattered across the top. 

The flavour, however, was full-on deliciousness. ooey, gooey, smoky and cheesy, despite the attempted concession to healthiness from the salad scattered across it. The Northern charm was also out in force as our neighbours, who we were sharing a bench with, happily shared their Squark Porter battered onion rings. And very good they were too.

Another recent addition to the Piccadilly Mile, Chorlton Brewing Company make 'contemporary beer inspired by Germanic brewing traditions'. Having first tried their beer (a sandalwood infused ale in Bristol, of all places), I was looking forward to their carefully curated trio for the weekend; an Amarillo Sour, a Citra Brett Pale, and an Eclipse black lager. 

The latter was the Ewing's choice; a schwartzbier brewed for Britain's 2015 solar eclipse that was mashed 24 hours before and then, just at the moment of totality, the yeast was added to the wort. I assume, from the speed in which she drank it, it was a heavenly as the celestial occurrence that inspired it. Not that I got to try it myself...

I had the Sour, which was excellent. With plenty of tangy citrus and sherbet this is proper summer refresher, but remember to bring the Rennies if you suffer from heartburn like I do. It was also good to chat with enthusiastic brewer, Mike Marcus - one of the best reasons to visit breweries, so you can meet some of the passionate people behind the getting pissed. 

We also grabbed a couple of each to take away. I'm particularly interested in how the bretted pale - fermented with brettanomyces not brewer's yeast - evolves. The BB date is 11.02.2021, but I'm pretty sure it's not going to last past the end of the month.

With a rapidly darkening sky beginning to threaten the promised biblical deluge, I was thankful that Beer Nouveau was just around the corner on, the fabulously monikered, Temperance Street - although by the time you read this their new brew tap will probably already have expanded onto the adjacent Great Western Street.

Of all the breweries we visited, I was perhaps the most excited to visit this one, mainly as I had read an excellent blog about their Easter Beer From The Wood Weekend -  with the promise of six beers that had been conditioned in and were being served from wooden casks. More specifically wooden casks that had been bought from Theakstons Brewery, with casks of the same beers also being served through a swan neck and sparkler for comparison alongside.

In contrast to our previous stops here there were no kegs and an abundance of traditional British hops such as  Fuggles, East Kent Golding and Challenger in a range of beers that included their take on Theakston’s Old Peculiar, Lee’s Moonraker and 1960’s Boddingtons recipe.

The Ewing tried the latter of these, a best bitter named Body Snatcher, while I sampled a more 'modern' version of the same ale, the Manchester Son. Both were fabulous, with unmistakable smoky whisky notes after just a fortnight in the wood. A great little place with great people, some interesting modern twists on classic beers and highly recommended for a half or two.

 

The Royal Flush of brewery visits came with our final stop, to the playing-card inspired Blackjack Brewery in the Green Quarter. We arrived with the party in full swing with grub curated by GRUB - including wood-fired pizza - and music curated by Goff. The big outside seating area meant there was also plenty of room to cut some rug

There were two cask and three keg Blackjack brews on offer when we arrived, although these were constantly rotating as they were open for visitors all weekend. And if you weren't trying to drink beers brewed solely withing the city limits (as I was) then they had bagged a good selection of from other brewers, with kegs from 6 North, Wylam and Brew by Numbers amongst others.

The atmosphere was as lively as the glass rinsing machine and we quickly bagged a table - albeit rickety enough to slosh beer on our shoes when we moved simultaneously - to enjoy our drinks. A pint of cask Royal Flush, an English hopped pale, for the Ewing and the Beginner's Luck, a NZ hopped pale, for me. Both decent, but I was hoping for a few of their more experimental ales to be on during our visit. I guess it's the Luck of the Draw - possibly the name of their next brew?

After spending most the weekend in drafty railway arches, surrounded by rubber hosing and stainless steel (a description that sounds far more kinky than the prosaic reality), we still had time for a couple of more civilised stops. First was Beermoth, a well-stocked Northern Quarter beer merchants. Although, by the time we visited there was sadly only an empty shelf space where the, now mythical in my mind, Cloudwater Citra once was. 

They also have an airy new café/bar where we sampled what looked like the world's biggest Jaegerbomb; in reality a pint of Quantum Pale Ale and an Alesmith Speedway Stout. While I had vowed to only drink beers made in Manchester (Quantumn, from Stockport, was the closest I could find in Beermoth) I couldn't pass up the chance to finally try the Speedway Stout - or, more accurately, order it on my wife's behalf and assist her with drinking it....

Last stop was the Port Street Beer House, where I persuaded the flagging Ewing we had time for one last hurrah. As she was ordering her half of Absence of Apples (an apple-less apple saison) from Mad Hatter (another experimental brewer worth looking out for), my eyes drifted toward a glowing orange label, glinting like a jewel through the sea of bottles in their well-stocked beer fridge; the Cloudwater Citra IPA. 

As the all-knowing (and never irritating) Stealth says, ‘it’s always in the last place you look’. In this case she was right, and it was well worth the wait.

Zaap Thai, Leeds

However hard you try to escape it, this time of year feels pretty sad. It’s cold and grim outside and everyone’s given up the booze and is on some weird fad diet which means the fridge at work is currently full of neon green drinks, yoghurt and mackerel fillets in contrast to the pre-Christmas platters of sausage rolls and mince pies.

Short of a fortnight on the beach in Mexico, I find the best way to counteract the gloom is with some spice. A panacea for the palate, deadened this year not only by the usual festive onslaught of chocolate and cream, but also a nasty cold, kindly bestowed upon me by my loving niece the Gingerbread.

Thankfully salvation was at hand in the form of Zaap Thai, a ‘street food’ restaurant in the Grand Arcade, Leeds, that's the brasher younger brother to the perennially popular Sukothai mini-chain.

Inside they've gone full-throttle with the garish Bangkok street market theme, with walls adorned with everything from kick boxing shorts to boxes of soap powder to the crowning glory of a pair of remodelled tuk tuks that you can sit in to eat your lunch. The ersatz effect shouldn't work, but it does, in an endearingly ramshackle way.

As our lunch stop was breaking up a cross-town pub crawl - and I had already promised my Aunt, whom we were staying with, that we would return in a respectable state for dinner - we eschewed booze in favour of a soft drink menu that included thai green bubble tea, chrysanthemum tea and roselle juice (no, me neither).

The Ewing's thai iced coffee hit the spot, being sweet and strong and served long in a dimpled pint pot with plenty of ice. My bonkers sounding and equally bonkers looking, butterfly pea juice with soda and lemon looked like a fancy cocktail and tasted like fancy Ribena.

We started with the Ewing's favourite, the mighty prawn cracker. Although these were the more resilient, darker kind (a better shrimpy flavour but none of that Skip-like ‘fizzle’ on the tongue) as opposed to the paler Chinese variety. No matter, a basket of warm deep fried things served with chilli jam is never going to last long in our company.

First up of our sharing plates was the Nam Tok Kor Moo, or grilled pork neck served with Isaan salad. As much as I love green stuff, a salad normally suggests the bland and the boring, suitable for dieters or the infirm. In contrast the best Thai salads are a vicious assault on the senses; an invigorating mix of fresh and fearsome.

This was no exception; a crunchy bed of raw red onion, iceberg lettuce and fresh herbs topped with strips of grilled pork neck, tossed in a pungent ground rice and fish sauce-based dressing made the perfect combination of salty, stinky, sour and spicy. And it was hot. In fact thanks to the ramped-up chilli quotient - or perhaps in homage to the dishes translated name, 'grilled pork waterfall' - tears began to gently roll from my eyes as I ate it.

No matter as we had ordered another salad, the classic Som Tum Thai which, despite having a menacing red squiggle signifying 'hot' next to it on the menu, I felt confident would have a cooling and calming effect on my throbbing tongue....

Needless to say this was, if anything, even hotter; a sinus-clearing mix of fresh green papaya, ground shrimp, cherry tomatoes and peanuts liberally strewn with both dried birds eye chilli and strips of fresh red chilli with well balanced flavours that are so often missing in our wan approximation of foreign fare.

The best bit of the experience, or certainly the most amusing, came thanks to our requested addition of pou, or raw crab; strange crunchy lumps that I quickly put to one side but the Ewing persevered trying to eat. Unsure whether to bite through it whole, like a soft shell crab, or painstakingly strip the jelly-like flesh from the carapace, she called the waitress over, seemingly oblivious to the chilli-induced tears causing a cascade of mascara down her cheeks.

While trying not to show alarm at the two sweating, sobbing spectacles in front of her, the waitress diplomatically asked if this was the first time we had tried it, while pointing out the crab was there for flavour and should be 'sucked and then discarded' (and you must try them, they are most delicious - TE) in a friendly yet amused air. I like to think I suffer these indignities so you don't have to.

Our final dish, a mussel pancake, was mercifully chilli free, but made up for it by arriving at the table in a skillet slightly hotter than the surface of the sun. Initially I was a little dubious of the thought of lumps of hot mollusc suspended in an eggy batter, but this was another fab plate; huge amounts of super fresh seafood in a crisp and well-seasoned fritter, studded with spring onion and scattered with fresh herbs.

Zaap wasn’t just a pleasant surprise, the food we ate blew me away; literally and figuratively. Yes, the menu’s peppered with plenty of anodyne crowd-pleasers - although there’s nothing wrong with that (definitely not - TE) - and the decor isn’t going to do it for everyone (it did it for me- TE), but I loved the fact we could sit amongst the neon bustle, sipping luminous drinks and giving our jaded taste buds a proper working over, for less than fifteen pounds a head.

While that might not quite be Bangkok prices, and there are (mercifully) no Mekong whisky buckets to wash it all down, being in South Yorkshire and not South Easts Asia, we could stroll down to the newly opened Headrow House after lunch to calm our tongues with a beverage. And not just any beverage, but an unpasteurised Czech lager straight from the tank, freshly opened the day before our visit. Cold beer and spicy food; I had tears in my eyes for all the right reasons.

On the Lash, Leeds Style

Visits to Leeds always mean some sort of exciting ale trail along with some great company. This time I had seen Tony Naylor’s timely best Leeds craft beer article in the Guardian, but my Uncle had gone one better and cut it out, alongside various flyers and menus in anticipation of our visit. Anyone who knows will realise just how deliriously happy the prospect of a pub crawl, plus a handful of takeaway menus can make me; and that's before we'd even left the house.

Research done, the first stop on our sodden Sunday trek was to Bundobust, a craft beer bar and Indian street food hybrid. Whilst the concept - combined with the plywood benches and exposed brickwork inside - may seem peak hipster, the award nominations, mass internet adoration and weekend queues prove they are obviously doing something right.

I started off far less than sensibly for an all-dayer with the Skor Brun, a Belgian strong ale from Mikkeller at 8%. This was pretty decent, if a little sweet, with plenty of caramel, apples and dried fruit although probably best consumed in small quantities.

My Uncle and the Ewing went with the crisp, spiced house coriander pilsner - which is brewed by a small family run Czech brewery - that pairs perfectly with their range of Indian street snacks.

To eat we shared a selection of dishes including a great masala dosa stuffed with potato & onion and served with lentil soup and coconut chutney; the idli sambhar rice dumplings served in lentil soup with chutney; and the gobi bhaji, a crispy fried orb crammed with onion, cauliflower & spinach, served with a tamarind & red pepper chutney and modelled by Uncle John. On Sundays you can also get brunch, with a bloody mary with their egg bhurji (a kind of spicy scrambled eggs) for a tenner.

Next there was a moment of confusion where we thought we had headed to the Head of Steam, but had actually ended up at nearby Tapped, a welcome mistake as not only do they serve a huge selection of cask and keg beers, including ones they brew on site in their own microbrewery, they also serve Big Dan's homemade pizzas.

It took a while to decide what to drink, but in the end I went with the Roosters Baby Faced Assassin, a nice enough pale ale brewed in nearby Knaresborough, whilst the Ewing chose the Magic Rock offering, Dark Arts: Surreal Stout, a mix of four malts and bags of hops. If my memory serves me right - and after all that beer who knows - Moyra tried the Magnum PA single hopped ale which was a Irn Bru orange hue, with plenty of grapefruit and spiced rye flavours.

They serve a selection of pizzas, but the one you really need to know about is the N'duja Want Some? Complete with the eponymous spicy sausage, pickled jalapenos and red chilli (you can have scotch bonnets if you're a real maniac) and a good splash of Dan's beer 'n' chilli sauce with pineapple and hop oil.

The rest of the pizzas we tried - including the special with sausage and broccoli rabe and one with blue cheese, rocket and walnuts - were great, but the Fishy One (a Napoletana by any other name) that Moyra ordered is also well worth a mention if you're into your capers and anchovies.

The Midnight Bell, the Leeds Brewery flagship, is a good old fashioned pub with plenty of good old fashioned beers. They produce four permanent casks; Leeds Pale, Yorkshire Gold, Leeds Best and Midnight Bell, alongside seasonal ales and kegged beer including the Leeds brewed lager, Leodis, the Roman name for Leeds.

I do love me a pint of Leeds Pale, a brew that I have grown accustomed to drinking at the annual Thorner (the village my Aunt and Uncle live in) Boule Tournament, alongside sausages grilled expertly by my cousin, Will. This year the Leeds Brewery also sponsored the annual Thorner Comedy festival, which we had attended (and drunk a few pints at) the night before. It's a proper Yorkshire bitter, and none the worse for that, and at a respectable 3.8% it's also deceptively easy drinking.

Alongside our beers there were peanuts, as who doesn’t love a pint and some peanuts, although they also had a special pie menu for Pie Week that saw each pub in their stable of six in Leeds showcasing a different pastry product as well as Leeds Best battered fish, Yorkshire gammon and steaks and Swaledale sausages.

Our next and furthest stop was the Northern Monk Refectory, trendy bar and microbrewery in Holbeck which is housed in a grade II converted flax mill. Arriving buffeted by the rain and wind, we found the initial lack of coat pegs and tricky to get your leg over (steady) communal benches didn’t make the warmest welcome, but once we had got firmly ensconced - and discovered their bookcase full of beer geek books and board game - things started to look steadily up.

They improved even further with the beers; mine was a Northern Monk Monacus, their New Zealand hop-packed pale ale, while Uncle John loved the Chennai, a dark, spiced porter. The Ewing’s tipple was a Belgian wheat beer, recommended by the bar man and one that seems destined to forever remain nameless due to forgetfulness and intoxication (I swear there were oats involved - TE). A real shame as this was a cracker, being fresh and hoppy whilst having the citrus, banana bread and bubble gum characteristics of a great wheat beer.

The food is provided by the Grub and Grog Shop, who bill themselves as 'flavours for the curious', With a Sunday menu that offers a mix of local game alongside vegan dishes and a sandwich menu that boasts fillings including kohlrabi and mutton served alongside celeriac porridge topped with malt oil it makes a welcome change from burgers, slaw and pulled pork.

We shared dishes of parsnip and hop cakes with glazed beetroot, crispy cavalo nero, salsa verde and lentils; and an ox tongue hash with celeriac mash, pickles, kale, hop syrup and stout gravy. Both were outstanding, both in value and flavour, with the tongue being the standout, although overall the flavours veered a little towards over-sweetness for my tastes.

Moyra also tried a slice of their vegan carrot cake. Whilst I think she found it a little dense and claggy I have to say I found it pretty delicious, although sadly I’m not sure the lack of animal products and the addition of extra veg could possibly have categorised it as a health food.

Finally the rain had stopped, so we swapped the industrial chic of Holbeck for the history of central Leeds' Scarbrough Hotel - or Scarbrough Taps to the Loiners - a popular pub by the station that has been taken over by Nicholsons.

While I'm not adverse to a Nicholsons pub - I still think back fondly to the breakfast served at the Shakespeare in Brum - I sometimes find their beer selection lacking inspiration. Here they had a decent range of keg ales and stouts, but most seemed to come from dahn Sarf, with few local beers on offer. I also have to confess that I don't remember what anyone drank, save for a Nicholsons own pale ale that came with our burger, which is brewed down St Austell and is a fair enough pint of ale.

The special of iberico pork and chorizo burger with chips was too good for my Uncle to resist and it was a pretty decent effort, the juicy and well seasoned patty studded with big chunks of garlicky sausage and housed in a squishy glazed bun with lashings of mayo and salad. Crisp battered onion rings, at a quid for a bowl, were equally appreciated by my Aunt.

Last stop was perennial favourite, Brewdog Leeds, just in time for the release of their small batch Bourbon Baby, a baby (5.8% abv) scotch ale which is then bourbon barrel aged to add a smoky vanilla and brown sugar intensity. Smooth and easy to drink - with plenty of shortbread, honey and raisins – but with a lower alcohol punch than the taste belied. 

I went off piste with the Mikkeller guest beer, Wheat is the New Hops, an India Pale Ale brewed with wheat and fermented with brettanomyces. This had a clever balance of grassy hops with a touch of clove and lemon wheat underpinned with a slight brett funk. Drunk rather too quickly, so we wouldn’t miss the once hourly Sunday service back to the sticks, this was one fine final fling that set us up nicely for an evening of gentle snoozing and reruns of the Chase. 

Many thanks again for our partners is crime, Moyra and John, in the making of this production. Who yet again risked biblical floods and battering winds to make sure we were sufficiently overfed and inebriated. It was a pleasure as always.