Most of my trips to Manchester coincide with City ball retention exercises at the Etihad so it was a treat to catch the world’s greatest city in the Summer. Not that it ever actually rains in Manc, despite what you might read on some London-based blogs.
Just into the Manchester International Festival, the city new and old was looking magnificent, as some of our American readers belatedly discovered.
I got a cheap room at the Mitre, that pub in Cathedral Square that isn’t Sinclairs, the Wellington or the Crown & Anchor. Shabby Wi-Fi, great views.
Talking of Sinclairs, plastic glasses the norm in what should be a Sam Smiths flagship, but instead is their shame. If they really can’t sell enough OBB to maintain cask quality, then 99% of pubs should take it off, too.
I’d been wondering why I hadn’t noticed Bundobust before, and now I know. If you look closely you can see it tucked below Caesar. Is that hoarding permanent ?
Richard Coldwell has been raving about Bundobust since the beginning, and he knows his curry & craft combos. The queues outside the Leeds original recently were bigger than you see outside my local pub for Punk IPA.
I found a space on one of those communal trestle tables, politely distant from a loved-up couple who I felt sure would provide me with some interesting material. They didn’t.
The view up to the skylight was better than the banter.
And the beer range suited my needs for crafty keg. Why I didn’t have the Dobber, I’ll never know.
As you’ll know, it’s veggie Indian food in small portions. I loved it, and their house keg Pale was a perfect match. Not much change out of £20, mind, but you can’t pay too little for craft. The cask seemed an afterthought and was a tad warm.
Still, the best thing to travel westwards over the Pennines since
Eric C the Hookworms, Leeds best band since the Wedding Present, appearing tonight in a big tent in Albert Square.
My battery had run out before the Hookies made the stage, so here’s Carla dal Forno from Berlin instead. Top music, duff beer selection.
Manchester does what Manchester does best, and I even had time for a late, late pint of Dobber in 57 Thomas Street.
It only seemed like a mistake the next morning.
I believe I also popped in Beermoth during the interval, but have no record of this. Rather like my first trip there.