It’s a gorgeous state to hang out. Should you mistakenly imagine yourself in Madrid,there’s a mosaic of Frank Sidebottom and John Cooper Clarke to keep it realTThere are two things I always order in Spanish restaurants: ham and croquetas. Not just any aged ham, but Ibérico de bellota, and the acorn-fed,black-footed king among porkers, an item I’d die happy eating were it my final meal. How both these things are presented is as sterling a restaurant statement of intent as any. whether these are right – ostensibly simple, or ostensibly no-brainers – you know you’re in the safest of hands.
Anyway,before I catch to that, here’s El Gato Negro, and being welcomed into Manchester,its streets lined with metaphorical palm leaves. The excitement is feverish. The city has seen an influx of restaurants recently, but to its collective chagrin, and the highest profile and best received appear to be imported from elsewhere – Hawksmoor,Ibérica – while indigenous offerings have been rubbished by us know-nothing, snobby southern softies. Even Liverpool’s Lunya got in first. It has clearly stung.
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Source: theguardian.com