On Saturday 15 June 1996, the IRA detonated a bomb in the centre of Manchester. It was, apparently, the biggest bomb ever on British soil and caused some £700m of damage (around £1.2bn in today's money). Remarkably, while 212 people were injured, there were no fatalities. In fact, the biggest victim was the Arndale Centre – which, at that time, was perhaps the ugliest, most loathed shopping centre in the UK.
The fact that the bomb took out the hated shopping mall, and forced a redesign of the city centre, means you'll often hear it described as "the best thing that ever happened to Manchester".
Sadly, while it's a great soundbite – and no doubt accelerated the process – it's not strictly true. (Plus I suspect Sir Alex Ferguson has something to say about who or what is "the best thing that ever happened to Manchester".)
Before the IRA stepped in, Manchester's planners had already begun reimagining their city, a programme that's still forging ahead today. While it's evident in the architecture – this is a city that's as good at reinventing its historical properties as it is at dazzling new builds – the real clue is the food and drink scene, which is as healthy as anywhere else in the UK.
"The evolution of the food and drink culture in Manchester is exciting, but not surprising," explains my friend and local food writer Adam Whittaker over a pint at Port Street Beer House, a great bar that's one of the city's biggest supporters of craft beers and small breweries. "For several years, businesses have seen the potential and invested here. Bars like this are a superb example of the quality of product available on almost every street. There's a brewery, bar or food place opening on an almost weekly basis – and most are independent."
This includes a number of London exports, including Iberica and Hawksmoor. For the latter's co-founder, Will Beckett, the choice of Manchester for its first non-London restaurant was an easy decision.
"We picked Manchester largely because we enjoy spending time there," explains Will. "There are various places where we could make money, but if we're going to open a restaurant somewhere, we want to be excited about going there regularly, and Manchester's got an amazing energy about it."
Will's right. Some of us have an image of Mancunians sulkily hating 'that there London' while simultaneously looking to it for approval or inspiration, but there's little evidence of chips on shoulders (insert your own curry sauce gag here, if you absolutely must). This is a city capable of doing its own thing very well indeed. Plus, given its still-affordable property, decent public transport (you've got to love a tram), friendly people and a fantastically walkable centre, perhaps it's London that should be sulking.
Over the next few days, there's some stuttering, and a dash of quantity over quality – and good luck if you want to go out for dinner after about 8pm on a Sunday. But, for the most part, the food is terrific.
From Port Street, we wander to Tariff & Dale (located, unsurprisingly, on the corner of Tariff Street and Dale Street), a ground-floor bar and basement restaurant set in the sort of old industrial building found all over the city, with bare brickwork, functional tiling and exposed pipes and vents.
It's straight out of a Russell Norman wet dream. The sausage roll is very good, the wood-fired sourdough pizzas are crispy and chewy in equal measure, while the mushroom pie – with a brilliant booze, butter and umami gravy of cooking juices and cava – turns out to be one of the best dishes of the trip.
There's similar quality at neighbours The Whiskey Jar (great classic R&B playlist, one of the best collections of 'brown water' I've seen outside the Deep South) and El Capo (thoroughly decent Mexican, with a fun bar), although it's hard to beat the gleefully filthy joys of Twitter favourite and Northern Quarter legend Solita.
It's infamous for its extreme dishes, such as the aptly named Once In A Lifetime burger (two six-ounce patties, pulled pork, crispy bacon, shoestring onions, buttermilk chicken strips, monterey jack cheese, house BBQ sauce) but it's not all about the quantity. We go 'light' (ha!) with wings (excellent), a 'pulled-pork sundae' of buttery mash and moist meat (brilliantly wrong) and cheeseburger spring rolls which: a) are surely the pinnacle of the dirty food movement; and b) I find myself longing for on an almost daily basis.
It's not just 'new' Manchester that impresses though. In Chinatown, Thai supermarket Siam Smiles is the unlikely provider of some of the best Thai food I've eaten in the UK, and it's with tingling tongues and broad smiles that we stroll a little out of town to The Marble Arch for what we swiftly come to call "beer tapas": shared halves of everything local on draft. Given the support for craft beers pretty much everywhere, from local pubs to the bar at the charming Great John Street Hotel, this becomes quite a challenge.
we stroll a little out of town to The Marble Arch for what we swiftly come to call "beer tapas"
Manchester does have a slightly 'blingy' reputation and, yes, there's more than a hint in some places – such as Australasia, a Pacific Rim fusion restaurant located under a glass pyramid by the Armani store. Yeah, that screams bling (as does the interior), but even then service is charming, and there's some great cooking here: its tempura is superb, plus the wasabi – Kentish grown – is fresh and literally breathtaking.
Close neighbour Manchester House is described to me by a local friend as "the best restaurant in the city". It's certainly impressive, and endearing: as well as chef Aiden Byrne's exquisite and clever eight- and fifteen-course tasting menus, there's a couple of big, no-nonsense steaks on the menu too.
My wife joins me for the last few days of exploration. As a University of Manchester graduate, she's keen to see how the city has changed, and is beyond stunned. "30 years ago you didn't go near this area for fear of mugging," she tells me. "Now…"
She gestures around where we're sitting: a great and busy little café called Teacup Kitchen on Thomas Street, a road now dotted with smart bars and eclectic restaurants. It's bright and airy, with an appealing menu, 30-odd varieties of tea and massive slices of cake, and a poster on the wall reveals that it's owned by Mr Scruff, the DJ. When someone like that can open somewhere like this on a street that used to be a no-go area, that's when you know Manchester has changed – and is continuing to change – for the better. ■
