Mrs Petticoat

Restaurant reviews from Bolton to Manchester, London and beyond! My name is Vicki and I am a food blogger. Here you can find my restaurant reviews and thoughts on foodie things, from Michelin star to burger bar. Hopefully my thoughts can give you some...

[mrspetticoat]

El Gato Negro, Manchester

I didn’t study Spanish in school, learning instead the beautiful lolling tongue of the French (Je m’appelle Vicki, j’ai onze ans.) However, due to an effective and concise logo, Spanish language knowledge is unnecessary to discern that the name of Manchester’s newest tapas bar, El Gato Negro, translates to the black cat.  

This is particularly relevant to my life at the moment, as the newest addition to Petticoat Palace is just that.

Meet The Bear. Named after Mr Grylls due to his flair for adventure, fear of absolutely nothing and penchant for urine drinking (well, toilet water) he has brought many hours of fun, scratches and cat whacks to our our abode.

Upon visiting El Gato Negro, I can confirm that any similarities to The Bear are simply not there. I witnessed no wallpaper scratching, manic yowling or flying cat litter during our visit, although what the staff gets up to on their days off is not my business.

Picking favourite things about El Gato Negro is going to prove difficult, as I loved it ALL.

Smoke & Beer - with toasted halloumi

Quince Bellini

Sitting at the pass, observing and chatting with the chefs, there’s an intimate and homely feel. ‘How is everything’ asked the head chef. ‘AMAZING’ I replied through a mouth fuller than a hamster with a hoarding problem. And I didn’t even have to lie; it all was.

Lamb skewers (£10.50) with their blackened exterior were pink, juicy and succulent in the center. A person could probably sustain burns of this level and still be alive, but I wouldn’t eat them*.

Giant prawns (£8.30) are helpfully de-shelled of their body, retaining their heads because a lady should never have to go out without putting her face on. I could eat a hundred of these and I’d give it a good go, but I’ve worked out this would cost £425.

Chorizo in Cider (£7) Two of my favourite things. 

Gillardeau oysters (£3.50 each) are doused in yuzu juice before being topped with pickled cucumber, which adds that little bit of texture I always need to enjoy these weird little mouthfuls.

And the squid… Oh the squid!!! (£9) On its bed of black ink rice it looked like a beauty queen of the sea, sprinkled with a topping of lemon and parsley, you would never believe that something that can taste so soft and delicate, was actually at one point a giant ugly head.

Whilst we’re on the subject of aesthetically displeasing seafood, line caught baby monkfish with pinta beans (£11)  is another triumph, having only ordered it because it looked so good being plated up.

Spanish meats with a bloomin’ delicious celariac remoulade (£13.50)

Waiting staff, although very busy, were chatty and helpful, each enthusiastically sharing their favourites and recommendations for our next visit, which of course is inevitable.

Meatballs (£7.50)

And so I am left with the difficult decision as to which is my favourite Black Cat. One regularly bites me on the nose, drools on my face and has left my arms looking like a 15 year old self harmer; the other is kind to me, fills my belly full to bursting and gets me drunk. I’ll let you decide which one is which**.

http://www.elgatonegrotapas.com/

*Maybe if they had died and I was very hungry I would think again.

**Still my favourite

[mrspetticoat]

Evelyn’s Manchester

I’ve been having a number of health issues over the last couple of years of which the medical profession have been struggling to diagnose. Even the great and grumpy Dr House would be left scratching his head (however it turns out I don’t have lupus, hurrah!) Throughout the process I’ve been prodded, poked, stabbed, sedated and even forced to endure two hours of SAS interrogation techniques which left me unable to work for days (I believe this is called an MRI.)

After a while I resigned myself to the fact that this really wasn’t going anywhere and started to look for an alternative. They say you are what you eat right? (despite appearances I actually don’t eat marshmallows.) I decided to get a food intolerance test done as a last resort. 

My results returned and I was intolerant to…. gluten. The world stopped and then abruptly started to spin. My breath quickened; my heart raced. Was this a heart/panic attack? Indigestion? No, this was an attack of melodrama, the likes of which I haven't experienced since I was 15. Bread, pasta, noodles, couscous… If I ever wanted to feel well again, all these things had to be avoided. No more butties, no more pasta, no more pasta butties. I even mourned the loss of those horrible dried bread sticks that nobody likes. Life was never going to be the same ever again.

But then it actually was. Burger? I had them bunless. Pasta? Helloooooo zoodles. Butties? I had lettuce wraps.* Even better than this, are the restaurants who have excellent allergen information and wonderful gluten free options on their menu. 

Enter stage right: Evelyn's. The latest venue by those cheeky Mughli scamps, Evelyn’s is a joy to eat in - their ethos is to serve healthy, delicious food, much of which is gloriously gluten free. Evelyn’s sits in the tomb of Superstore on Tib Street. It is bright, airy and welcoming. The open kitchen is still there and is inhabited by the rather handsome head chef Byron Moses. Thank you Byron, for your beautiful menu and your beautiful face.

Gluten free – white fish ceviche, yuzu, lemongrass, shallots, avocado - Wonderfully seasoned and zingy, the texture of this dish is perfect.

Gluten free – grilled Aubergine, coriander, yogurt, sumac – I would have preferred this to be hot, but it had so much flavour I wasn’t upset about that for too long.

Gluten free – chicken skewers, peanuts, soba noodles - From the looks of the kitchen this is a firm favourite with the Evelyn’s crowd, and they are indeed a crowd. Despite the restaurant being in its infancy, Evelyn’s is not without its groupies. The chicken is grilled so has a delicious char, a firm crunch from the peanuts and soft, delicate soba noodles. This is a must.

Gluten free – lamb, chilli, mint, quinoa, pomegranate, salsa verde – LOOK AT THAT LAMB.

I’m no gluten free Nazi and so kindly allow my friends and loved ones to partake in as much glutinous grub as they please. I just kick them when they ask if I would like to try some.

Calamari

Sweetcorn fritters

Ramen noodles

Sirloin steak, house sauce, radish, chips

Seared mackerel, chill, ginger, black rice.

You know what’s a great painkiller? BOOZE**!!!

Espresso Martini

White Old Fashioned

But Evelyn’s isn’t just about healthy food. You can get a burger if you want one, there are a few good looking desserts on the menu and plenty of booze to work your way through. The staff are a lovely bunch and the atmosphere is relaxed and homely. Evelyn, I don’t know who you are, but I love you.  

  http://www.evelynscafebar.com/

 *THIS IS NOT THE SAME

**I do not recommend booze for medicinal purposes.

[mrspetticoat]

Black Axe Mangal, London

When I first heard the words ‘Black Axe Mangal’ I immediately envisioned a Neighbours late night spin off programme in which once loveable Ramsay Street buffoon Joe Mangel is involved in a car accident. Suffering a traumatic life changing head injury, everyone’s favourite funny guy turns into a crazed killer. He stalks the streets of Melbourne at night, dragging a bloody black axe behind him. Said axe soaked in the blood of Harold Bishop, Helen Daniels, even *gasp* poor Bouncer.

I know what you’re thinking, and yes this is an exceptional idea for a TV show, however Black Axe Mangal is actually a heavy metal playing kebab shop in Islington. I love kebabs and adore heavy metal. A visit for us was an absolute must.

The restaurant doesn’t take reservations and having heard it gets rather busy, we arrived ten minutes before opening time on a Saturday eve to join the already formed queue. A notice of a broken card machine meant a last minute johnnie legger to a nearby cash machine was in order, but we arrived back just in time to see the hangry bunch file their way through the door to a chorus of pushing in allegations and pained grunts as a result of over eager foot stomping. Luckily we managed to grab the last 2 seats.

The restaurant is tiny. Really tiny. So much so that I worried that although I easily shuffled through the door on the way in, the sheer amount of food I intended to eat meant that my civilised exit was in danger. A rear* and present one.

We ordered a couple of largeritas (margarita with a topping of lager) along with several items from the menu and turned our ears to the soundtrack. Motley Crue caused a slight head wiggle, The Beastie Boys created an upper body sway but it was Pantera that took me to DANGER OF PUBLIC MOSHING LEVEL 10.

Just when I thought I couldn’t be any happier, the food arrived. There’s a real chance that the goat offal flat bread is the best thing I’ve eaten all year – both bread and topping of equal quality and without an over the top offal taste (I’d make an offal pun here, but we all nose to tail I can’t do puns**).

Hispi cabbage had been charred in the wood fired oven and took on more flavour that I would ever imagine a cabbage could.

Mission Dexter Boats were delightful dinghies of smoky sweetness.

Bakken special – different cuts of mutton, blackened onions and silky soft lentils.

Cocktails were great – largeritas transported my mind back to happy Floridian holidays and whiskey sours were frothy and strong.

The man at the helm is bandana bedecked baddass & St John alumni Lee Tiernan. It’s no wonder Black Axe Mangal is such massive success as he just gets it. He knows exactly what he wants to do and he is doing it so well.

So I may have a new favourite. Black Axe Mangal has the food I want to eat and the music I want to hear. It’s great fun, the food is exceptional and you leave wanting to get a tattoo. What’s not to like?

*This is a really rubbish joke about my derriere, not a typo.

**Sorry

[mrspetticoat]

The Wash House, Manchester Speakeasy

I’m not going to blabber on about how much I love cocktails - everybody knows this already. My colleagues say I drink too many, Mother Teresa is shaking her head in disapproval from beyond the grave and Kim Jong Un thinks I may have a problem. I don’t care though because cocktails make me happy, and when I’m happy, I hug people. I give really good hugs, so everyone is a winner.

Sadly, a few of my Manchester mixology musts have started to roll quite quickly downhill* of late (I won’t name names, but they rhyme Must Milk Corn & Pepper Spray) so I have been forced from my comfort zone to bars anew. What better place to try than one that few people know about? There will be less people there and therefore won’t be as frightening*.

I started to hear about The Wash House a few months ago – a brand new speakeasy cocktail bar disguised as a laundrette. I love a good speakeasy; Mr P and I have spent an obscene amount of time in these hidden drinking holes in both London and New York and I’m yet to come across one that I’ve not loved (probably because of all the drunken hugging).

The Wash House take their secret status very seriously. You make a reservation by leaving an answering machine message with how many items of clothing (people) you would like to wash (drink with) and at what time. A couple of days later I received a call back informing me that unfortunately my requested time was booked up, but I was offered an alternative. I agreed to this faster than you could perform a Daz Door Step Challenge. 

The trouble is, the map on the website is a bit crap, the gentleman on the phone wouldn’t spill the beans and so when the time arrived we were wandering around the back streets of Shudehill like we were up to no good. 30 minutes later and we finally stumbled upon it having walked right past it twice.

The laundrette fake frontage looks incredibly authentic and even smells of fabric softener. As we entered we were met by a grumpy looking fellow who I couldn’t work out was a bouncer or just confused and cross because he couldn’t get the dryer to work.

On the other side of the giant washing machine door is a leather clad, darkly lit bar. The booths are small but cosy and we quickly got to the menu.

A bowl of nuts on the table caused a moment of panic for my peanut allergic pal and for a moment I thought I’d have to recreate the Uma Thurman overdose scene from Pulp Fiction with her epipen*** but after informing the waiting staff they were very helpful and accommodating of her unfortunate legume intolerance.

I’m pleased to admit that the cocktail list is far from boring and we had to leave with far too many left to try.

 Cereal Offender - Bourbon, Lavender and sugar puffs. I may become a cereal consumer of this one *boom tish*

Chocolate Orange – it isn’t Terry’s, it wasn’t mine either, but my friend let me have a sip and it was delicious.

So-Cho Chai Martini – a creamy, frothy alcoholic chai latte

Flump it Up – I once ate a whole bucket of flumps****and felt sick for days. Luckily the aftermath of this cocktail was far more pleasant.

Memoirs of a Geisha – Vodka, sake and wasabi. Oh and a sushi roll.

50ish Shades. Prosecco with sherry and rose gin. With novelty handcuffs.

Death Star Ice cube

I love The Wash House – the music isn’t to my taste but it’s good fun, quirky and the drinks list is phenomenal.

So you should get yourself down to The Wash House before everyone finds out about it. The bouncer’s welcome you receive may be more Nick than Dot Cotton and they won’t be able to do a thing if you stain your outfit with their concoctions, but you’ll leave with a smile on your face, a warm glow and if you’re lucky enough, a drunken hug from me.

http://www.the-washhouse.co.uk/

*not in the good way I do, after I’ve been drinking cocktails

**people are frightening.

*** I am aware that an epipen does not have to be administered to the heart, but let’s face it, that would be more fun.

****For once this is not an exaggeration or fabrication.

[mrspetticoat]

Bad Egg, London

Bad Egg is an unusual name for a restaurant. It’s a bit like calling a new eaterie Scumbag Tavern, or The Wrong’un Arms - it screams ‘stay away’ rather than ‘eat all my food and make my owner rich’.  Add to the mix my fear of cold boiled eggs and this is the type of place I would normally avoid. However, I trust Chef Neil Rankin and love his style of food, so I entered, but with suspicion and caution.

It’s a very busy restaurant; its positioning in the financial district means it is frequented by suits, the owners of said outfits all looking richer and more important than me, but let’s be honest, this is often the case in a Weatherspoon’s.

I can see why it is so busy among the workers of the city as this is quick food done well. If you want to take your time however, there is a vast food menu to make your way through and a really decent cocktail list.

Popcorn Old Fashioned

Vodka Dirty Martini

Mr P’s beer

Helpful sign - I automatically relax when I know where a restaurant’s loo is.

The menu is rather eggcentric (BOOM BOOM), but don’t worry Ovaphobes* there are rather tasty looking burgers and delicious ribs which are egg free.

Chicken Fried Fish Tacos – Served with chipotle salsa and creamy fresh guacamole.

Pulled Pork & Kimchi hash – Crisp potatoes, fragrant kimchi, sweet yet spicy pulled pork and gochujang all topped with a runny fried egg. So comforting it warmed me up from the inside out.

Korean Fried Pork Belly Rib – Fall apart meat, sticky gochujang and ginger/lime mayo.

Kimchi

The dessert menu is plonked on the bottom of the menu like an afterthought but the S ’Mores Pot is brilliantly gooey, good fun.

There really isn’t anything bad at all about Bad Egg. There’s a fun feel, it’s reasonably priced and not a cold boiled egg in sight! As a side note, keep your eyes peeled for my new venture Wrong’un Wontons – a new restaurant selling malformed dim sum.

http://badegg.london/

*People with a fear of eggs. I googled it. There isn’t a name for people who are specifically frightened of cold boiled eggs, which seems unfair.

[mrspetticoat]

Beast, London

My birthday, as always, is an excellent excuse for me to force my husband to spend an extortionate amount of money on me. Because, you know, I’m worth it, and all that crap. For the last few years I have demanded European minibreaks to celebrate my day of birth but this year I thought the UK deserved to share in my over-enthusiastic approach to honouring how wonderful I am. Anyway, it’s more fun telling everybody you encounter that it’s your birthday if you can speak the same language them.

My restaurant of choice this year was Beast – the newest Goodman establishment which specialises in high quality steak and Norwegian King Crabs. If you visit their website you can watch a really interesting video about how the crabs are treated with the utmost care and respect so as to ensure the tastiest meat. Also, you don’t want to piss off these crabs, they are absolutely massive and could probably sever a head with their impressive pincers. Nobody wants an angry crab on their hands.

There’s something quite clandestine about Beast. The entrance is rather understated (if you ignore the gigantic bear in the foyer to which I gave a quick hug when nobody was looking*) but as you descend into the bovine bunker the restaurant is truly breath-taking. There are walls of king crabs looking all sinister in their watery tombs and a dining area that would give Hogwarts a run for its money.

ANGRY CRAB!!! ARGHHH!!!

I asked to be sat at the end of the giant banquet table because I don’t want people that I don’t know touching me. However, my fears were unwarranted as there really is a lot of room and I didn’t have to suffer anything even close to an elbow scuff with strangers.

There is a set menu (£75) which is the most popular option but there are also a la carte options.

The starter is simple – really good parmesan, a selection of antipasti and some exquisite balsamic vinegar. This may not look overly impressive, but what an effective little starter it was. My taste buds were awoken; my appetite arisen.

Weapons of mass crab destruction.

The crab and rib eye arrived at the same time, which didn’t bother me as I love a bit of surf and turf but the sheer amount of food was overwhelming – as were the flavours. The char on the steak was perfection – the king crab sweet, delicate and juicy.

Sides were also wonderful – excellent greens, a tasty tomato salad and a truffle sauce that packed a punch.

Puddings were a lemon tart and deconstructed cheesecake, the latter being my favourite which was light and creamy.

I have no complaints about the service, which was perfectly fine, if not overly warm. But servers did their job well and our glasses were never empty.

Beast is undoubtedly expensive – our meal cost the best part of £300 along with a couple of cocktails and a good bottle of wine, which is an eye watering amount for a two hour experience. But we’re talking special occasion dining here and the quality of the ingredients and cooking cannot be denied.

So I am left with a whole year to decide who to annoy with my birthday blabbering’s next year. Mr P had better get saving up because I don’t want no scrubs**.

http://www.beastrestaurant.co.uk/

*Apparently you shouldn’t hug bears. Despite looking quite cuddly, they can rip your face off.

**A scrub is a guy who don’t get no love from me.

[mrspetticoat]

Hawksmoor, Manchester

At school, I somehow always found my way into trouble.Getting busted smoking on the school residential, dying my hair crazy colours which defied the strict rules and regulations* and being grassed up for a spot of graffiti on the science room tables. There was also the time when I made mykeyboarding applications teacher cry** and for this I am sorry, because recentlythe skills she taught me really did come into fruition. It was because of the lightningfast typing skills acquired during her lessons that meant I was able to procure a reservation during Hawksmoor Manchester’s soft launch on my big brother’s birthday. This epic success has meant that I have now changed my rapper name from Vickilicious to Quick Tricks Vix***.  

My love affair with Hawksmoor began a number of years ago, when after a day at Wimbledon with my Mum I ate prettily pink rib eye and mushy sweet potato whilst she complained about how dark it was. Love turned into obsession after a visit to the Air Street venue where I scoffed salted rolos and sang old boy band songs. Their addition to Manchester is the best news I’ve heard since that of the demise of Bennifer, and that was a very happy day indeed.

The building is impressive with a big open kitchen and old tiles adorning the walls. ‘It looks like a toilet’ proclaimed my mother, who was in a particularly contrarious mood that day, but she is wrong.  

Fitzpatrick Aviation - With a vimto edge

Deansgate No. 2

Full Fat Old Fashioned - Made with butter. I like these guys.

Local beer for local people

Half price food meant we got a little bit silly. T bones were ordered without the slightest inclination to share, sides were abundant and sauces, plentiful.

Scallops with Garlic

Steak Tartare

Potted Crab

T-Bone with Creamed Spinach

T-Bone - If you’ve seen Law Abiding Citizen, this is quite scary

Ribeye

Triple Cooked Chips

Half Lobster with Garlic Butter

Deep Fried Oysters

Anchovy Hollandaise - the only sauce you’ll ever need in your life

Desserts were ordered even if it meant adjusting several belt notches and I almost couldn’t fit back into my coat.

The Ambassadors Reception

Berry Meringue

As I mentioned, my mother was in rather a bullish mood (remember when she got banned from a restaurant?) and did her best to test our waiter’s patience (and sent a whole glass of red wine flying during the process) but she was handled with respect and warmth and was soon putty in our lovely server’s hand.

They’d run out of bone marrow, which made me sad, but this is a small niggle in an otherwise perfect meal. I enjoyed it so much that I booked us in again, a few weeks later after a spot of wine tasting. I knew this was a dangerous idea as the last time I ate out after such a wine heavy activity I fell off my chair in the restaurant.

Luckily, this time there was no such drunken debauchery, but there was a spot of excessive spending as Mr P and I decided that ordering a £110 Chateaubriand was the best idea ever – our bank account disagrees however and can still be heard whimpering like a depressed dachshund and we may have to miss a mortgage payment this month.

Shaky Pete & the spiciest Bloody Mary

Raw Seabass with Chilli and Ginger

Yorkshire Pudding with Potted Beef & Bacon

A VERY EXPENSIVE STEAK

But look at that pink hue...

Dead Good Lettuce

Hawksmoor isn’t cheap. This isn’t the kind of restaurant where you eat every week (unless it is, and in that case I hate you) but it is worth every penny. Never more must us Northerners view the South’s beefy offerings from afar with wistful eyes and longing hearts. We’re finally giving London a run for its money. And I think we’re gonna win.  

 http://thehawksmoor.com/locations/manchester

 *BUT I WANTED TO LOOK LIKE GINGER SPICE!!!

**She was a very sensitive and very old lady.

***This is not a prostitute reference.

[mrspetticoat]

Cereal Killer Cafe, London

There’s not really anything offensive about cereal. Yes,it’s kind of crunchy and there are few things more disappointing than a stale bowl after the box hasn’t been resealed correctly, but it’s really not anythingto get angry about*. However, Cereal Killer Cafe in London’s Shoreditch has got people in a right rage and caused another bout of hipster bashing. Yes, it does seem like it belongs on an episode of Nathan Barley, but calm down everyone, it’s just breakfast.

We visited at 4pm on a Saturday and luckily didn’t have to wait too long. I actually think it’s a really good idea; you choose your cereal, milk, quirky toppings and tuck in. There isn’t much seating, it does get overly crowded and they’ve not implemented an efficient queuing system (maybe this is why everyone is so angry?!) but my little bowl of cinnamon squares topped with party rings was worth the heightened heartbeat and perspiring palms.

People have complained about the price, but the same people wouldn’t think twice about spending £3.50 on a double shot soy latte and, on the whole, the range of cereals is imported and therefore not readily available in UK shops.

Chocolate Cereal Cocktail (sadly containing no alcohol)

So lighten up people. Get some lucky charms down you and give a hipster a hug. 

http://cerealkillercafe.co.uk/

 *I got very angry indeed when I realised that Nesquik cereal is rubbish.

[mrspetticoat]

Winter Beer Fest 2015

Beer festivals have never really been part of my natural habitat.They normally involve sticky carpets, bad food and men who use the ladies toilets in order to avoid the queues at their own (THESE MEN SHOULD BE ARRESTED!) However, in recent years there’s a new breed of beer fest, they have great street food, extravagant venues and an equal ratio of women to men meaning no dudes in the loos!

The latest of its kind is Winter Beer Fest. Sheeban, Black Jack Brewery and my buddies at Grub quite literally organised a piss up in a brewery, the brewery in question being Runaway Brewery in The Green Quarter of Manchester. We bought both day and night tickets for the Saturday, because you can’t just get me half drunk and then chuck me out in the cold. That’s just rude.

There was a brilliant selection of beers and ciders to try on the day and I was also massively impressed with the availability of spirits and wines for those who aren’t mad about hops.

The food was so good that I ate too much and therefore struggled to get drunk, but don’t you worry people, I managed it.

Comida

Two of my favourite Manchester foodies were cooking up a Spanish storm. Their croquettes were sublime and the chorizo and bean stew has got Mr P threatening divorce if I can’t replicate this at home.

Fu Schnikens

I can see why these pillowy pork buns are award winning and damned nice chaps they are too.

The Ginger Tart

Bacon brownies? Yes please!

Andy’s Low n Slow

BBQ from Birmingham. The chilli brisket sure had a kick and they gave me extra gherkins upon request.

There was music throughout from both djs and bands alike that had me tapping my foot (beginning of the day) and booty shaking (end of the day) with vigour.

But the best thing? Dogs were allowed. This little chap is called Huxley and he licked me on the face. I think this means he wants to come and live with me (I’ll come for you soon Huxley).

I had the most incredible day at Winter Beer Fest. It was my best bud’s birthday and they made such a fuss of her, presenting her a birthday tart by a chap dressed as Schwarzenegger (long story).

Did you miss Winter Beer Fest? Would you like to come to another event so you can watch me booty shake and try to kidnap your dog? Well there is hope! The organisers of Winter Beer Fest have set up a Kickstarter in the hope to have a permanent home in The Green Quarter with events throughout the year. It is imperative that you help the cause as booty shaking and dog kidnapping are the only forms of exercise I indulge in. Do it for my health*!

Back the campaign here!

https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/keystonemcr/keystone-independent-art-drink-and-food-all-under

*Ignore the health implications of beer and food over indulgence.

[mrspetticoat]

The Man behind the Curtain, Leeds

A co-worker recently asked me what I am passionate* about and after a brief bout of pondering I have come up with a definitive list.

1: Eating food

2. Growing my hair really long

3. Moshing around my kitchen to heavy metal

4. Cuddling dogs (and cats if they let me)

5. Books

All of the above make me as happy as Larry (apart from when cats don’t let me cuddle them) and so when I came across chef Michael O’Hareand his twitter name Hair Metal Chef, I knew his restaurant The Man Behind TheCurtain in Leeds was a place I had to visit.

Saturday dinner reservations have become as hard to find asa cat that will let me cuddle it, so we had to wait a few months for our booking, but before we knew it that cold January day arrived and we were on a train venturing east with some chums.

The restaurant is more man above a designer clothes shop than behind a curtain and we oddly had to venture through a Flannels store past a burly bouncer and clothes that I can’t afford nor fit into. We were soon whisked up the rabbit hole and confronted by a moodily lit restaurant with a heavy metal soundtrack. The tables were spaced suitably far apart, which pleased me greatly, as with such an incredible playlist and my ridiculously long hair, I was almost certainly going to get my mosh on later.

In the evening it is tasting menu only at a cost of £65. There are also two wine pairings available, the basic selection is £25 and a premium option for £45. I know very little about wine other than it tastes nice and makes me 50% more awesome so decided on the less costly of the two. But of course we started with a cocktail - my violet gin and tonic was like parma violets in a very posh glass and matched my nail polish so this was a double win.

 Fois Gras Doughnut

Mackerel & coffee bonbon

Coriander tortilla with pea puree

Scallop with chorizo

Milk bread, sour cream, black pudding, salmon roe, lemon zest 

It’s always refreshing to see a bread course with a difference and even better when it involves one of my favourite dining activities – dipping.

Seared tuna, dumpling with dashi – the favourite of the table.

Hake wrapped in cabbage, with mussels, dill puree and pickled onions

Slow cooked beef, squid ink, oyster emulsion 

Beef and oyster is a marriage made in my belly and what a happy union it is too. This dish was served on a canvas and wouldn’t look out of place in the Tate Modern. Some may say this is a little pretentious but I loved the wow factor of it.

 Sweetbreads, pomegranate molasses

This sadly fell flat as it hadn’t been seasoned. I’m sure it was just a mistake by the chef however, because despite the lack of flavour, the sweetbreads were well cooked.

Sirloin steak, sesame cake, langoustines in pak choi -my personal favourite.

Butternut squash puree, praline, beetroot & chive oil

I really struggled to see how the chive oil worked with this, but I was a lonely voice on a table of people scoffing down chive oil.

Chocolate with potato sauce and salt and pepper wild rice

This was completely baffling. Having not tried the flavours of chocolate and potato together I was expecting this dessert to be a face puller, but it was utterly perfect and one of the best desserts I’ve had in recent memory.

Cupcake with a passion fruit centre and edible case.

Chip from Beauty & The Beast is looking well.

Now to the service. I was initially shocked when I saw that some of the staff were wearing torture costumes, but then noticed they were in fact posh butcher aprons and realised I have watched far too many horror films. The staff were not murderous at all – they were in fact very helpful, honest (we almost tipped twice) and just like Derek Zoolander, incredibly good looking. Even chef Michael O’Hare introduced one of the dishes to us and I can confirm that he really does have very good hair.

Our meal at The Man behind the Curtain was pretty near perfect. I love a restaurant that puts on a show and really delivers an experience to the diner. The soundtrack was BRILLIANT and whereas I managed to refrain from a full on mosh session at the table, I did have a little boogie in the bogs.

*My co-worker is passionate about ‘donk’ which I think is a type of music listened to by chavs.

http://www.themanbehindthecurtain.co.uk/

[mrspetticoat]

Smoking Goat, Soho

Every so often a restaurant comes along that makes me want to pen a love song about it. In fact, there are many famous romantic tunes which are actually dedications to foodstuffs. ‘ I Have Nothing’ was written about Whitney’s love of a roast lamb lunch(‘If I don’t have ewe’), ‘There is a Light That Never Goes Out’ is actually about McDonald’s 24 hour opening policy and ‘I’ll Make Love to You’ is in fact a beautiful tale about Boyz II Men’s love of cucumbers*.

The restaurant in question is Smoking Goat, London's new Thai bbq joint that’s got all the critics in a right tiswas. It’s an unassuming little place, so inconspicuous that we started to queue outside the wrong door looking like right wallies. There’s hardly enough room in there to swing a goat (or a cat for that matter) but it has a nice atmosphere and the staff are wonderfully helpful.

The menu is about as small as the restaurant containing 3 small plates and 3 larger dishes along with a daily special, but boy, what is on there is tip top.

The fish sauce wings (£6) were world class. To quote my friend ‘I ate them like somebody was trying to take them off me’ and that person was me because those three plump portions were not enough. I’m still confused as to how the skin remained crispy throughout, despite its sticky sauce, but I’m afraid our waiter would not divulge the chef’s secrets. Spoil sport.

Mains were equally good. Lamb ribs (£15) and duck legs (£15) were sticky and flavoursome, both served with differing hot and sour dips which made my eyes water (or was I crying that there were no more wings?) and accompanied by a fresh and crunchy papaya salad and sticky rice.

Cocktails also impressed, the zingy margarita was served with a delicious cumin salt and the Old Fashioned was given an eastern twist by the use of palm sugar. All very reasonably priced meaning I left a little squiffy. As one always should.

I’m in love with Smoking Goat. I don’t even mind that it got a little smoky in there and made my hair smell. 

I’ve recently found out that the ‘THAT’ in Meatloaf’s ‘I Would Do Anything For Love’ is share his chicken wings**. What kind of person would ask you to do that***?!

https://twitter.com/smokinggoatsoho

*None of this is true.

**Not true either

***I would ask you to share your chicken wings. But you can’t have any of mine.

[mrspetticoat]

Grill on the Alley, Manchester

I’m not the kind of person who would get up at 4am to stand in a queue for 5 hours to purchase a pair of discount pants nor would I ever have a scrap over a 40 inch surround sound TV system (mainly because I would lose) but I am partial to a foodie discount. Whilst you’re all treating your bodies as temples during your detoxing Dryuary I am running around* drinking all the booze and eating all the food whilst wearing a bib to prevent any spillages (doing laundry would take time away from drinking all the booze and eating all the food). Grill on the Alley is one of the many restaurants showcasing offers this January that are too good to be offered up and as we haven’t been for about 4 years we decided to book in for date night.

Grill on the Alley has lost some of its charm. It feels impersonal, too bustly and a bit cold. We were swept through our meal at a frantic pace. Waiters rushed around like Amazon employees, so quickly my eyesight became a bit blurry and I knew I wasn’t that drunk**.

The constant upselling was a massive source of irritation for me. ‘Would you like some olives? Sauce? Any extra vegetables? You don’t want dessert? What about a coffee? All inclusive holiday to Turkey? Back massage? Happy ending?’*** When we did see our waiter he was trying to push something on us that we did not want. Stop, right now. Thank you very much.

Food was ok. Starters were the high point, with the crisp tentacles of the calamari and aromatic bang bang chicken skewers. Steaks were well cooked but painfully under seasoned. Chips were good but I can’t say the same about the mushrooms which were so heavily coated in parsley I consider it a personal attack from the chef.

The cocktails however, were great. My smokey Old Fashioned did a good job on the headache provided by the waiter and the Apricot Lynchburg was jammy and strong.

We were long gone within the hour and despite a 50% discount off on the food, the bill still stood at £90 with tip. We didn’t even get a happy ending.

http://blackhouse.uk.com/grill-on-the-alley

 *more like a saunter

**not yet

***This is not all strictly true.

[mrspetticoat]

The Star Inn, Harome

I can’t quite believe the age I am. In this mind of mine I am still 15 years old but my numerous grey hairs and wrinkly forehead tell a different story. I work with a girl who is half my age, people I went to school with are becoming grandparents and here I am using an empty prosecco bottle as a microphone while singing to my only offspring (my cat)*, telling people I can’t have my hair cut because it’s made of magic (IT IS) and giggling whenever I hear the tube announcer say Cockfosters. Will I ever grow up?

Whether I want it to or not, time is flying by. Somehow, last year Mr P and I celebrated our 6th wedding anniversary but it doesn’t seem 2 minutes since we were eating green pot noodles at 3am in Jilly’s Rock World after moshing with vigour to A Certain Shade of Green by Incubus.

Our food tastes have matured somewhat over these 15 years (although Mr P still enjoys a Bombay Bad Boy* from time to time) and we chose to celebrate our anniversary over in YORKSHUUUURRRRR** at Michelin starred restaurant The Star Inn.

Our plans were almost scuppered on the day by a very hung over Mr P who claimed ‘I’ve never felt this ill in my life’ and I feared our 6th wedding anniversary would be our last day on earth together. However, at 3pm he descended the stairs, not in ghost form (unless he’s doing a Bruce Willis from 6th Sense) so I stopped planning how I would spend the life insurance money and we got on our way.

We stayed at The Pheasant Hotel which is only over the road, and what a darling little dwelling it is. One of the cosiest hotels I’ve had the pleasure to sleep in.

This is the third time we’ve eaten at The Star Inn and (short review) I must say they have upped their game. It feels a little more formal than previous visits, but this made our anniversary meal feel even more special. We sat by the log fire sipping (who am I kidding, glugging) sloe gin cocktails and relaxed into each other’s company.

Bread in a cap.

I’m not sure how I feel about this. What if the owner of the hat was a sufferer of a contagious scalp condition? What if this hat had been used as a receptacle for door keys in a wife swapping party from the past? What if the hat had been worn by a person whose hair was also made of magic and it clashed with my magic and I had an allergic reaction? So many perils involved! But my love of bread got the better of me and I tucked in. It was bloomin’ tasty too.

As was all the food. This is comfort fare at its best. Rich gravies, creamy sauces, fall apart meat. I’m in love.

Razor clam (from the specials menu) with chorizo

  Dressed White North Sea Crab with a Crushed Hazelnut and Fennel Salad, Lemon Verbena Mayonnaise, Prawn Crackers (£14.95)

  ‘Two Chefs’ Ale-braised Ox Cheek with Pan-fried Foie Gras ‘Toad in the Hole’, Heritage Carrots, Ox Tongue Lemon Thyme Gravy (£19)

  ‘Pot au Feu’ of Harome Shot Game with Savoy Cabbage, Braised Chestnuts, Lardons, Beans and Smoked ‘Morteau’ Sausage (£23.95)

Vegetable of the day with sage dauphinoise potatoes

Steamed Fig Roly Poly Pudding with Forgotten Autumn Fruits with Hot Sarsaparilla, Citrus Custard (£8)

Caramelised Ampleforth Abbey Brandy Rice Pudding with Boozy Prunes, Deep-fried Cinnamon Doughnut (£9)

 I have absolutely nothing negative to add about our experience - we had a wonderful anniversary made even more fabulous by the fact that Mr P didn’t die****.

 http://www.thestaratharome.co.uk/

  *Mariah Carey of course, she’s her favourite.

**This is a pot noodle flavour, not a sexual preference.

***Yorkshire

****Although I may kill him if he is that hung over on our anniversary again. 

[mrspetticoat]

Meat Liquor, Leeds

Yes, yes I’ve been away. I won’t go into why as I’ll save this exclusively for a chapter in my auto-biography should I ever do anything interesting/bad enough to warrant one. But don’t worry, I’m still here, just sporting a few more of life’s war wounds. Whatever doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, aye?

I thought I’d ease my way back into this blogging malarkey slowly. The thought of writing up an epic tasting menu makes that vein in my forehead start pulsing and it really freaks people out when it does that. So I’m going for short and sweet. Just like me.

Meat Liquor has recently opened up in Leeds' Trinity Centre. Having loved the London flag ship and its hipster cousin over in Shoreditch I was desperate to visit the newest branch. I like Leeds. People there sound funny and this makes me happy because everyone tells me I sound funny too.

A mere 50 minutes on the train, Leeds has become my day trip of choice.

We initially got a bit lost, but then Mr P’s internal compass set in and led him to posh knicker shop Victoria’s Secret. Luckily for me, Meat Liquor is just next door and with a prod to the ribs plus the bovine bouquet emitted from the burger joint, Mr P’s attention was averted back to lunch.

The interior is awesome. The music is loud. The waiting staff flirty. I loved it.

Starters and burgers arrived at the same time meaning we were overwhelmed by the volume of food but we were willing to give it our best shot. Buffalo wings were crisp and meaty without too much heat; deep fried pickles were a perfect example of their type and their blue cheese dip is still the best I’ve sampled – so garlicky and tart one can perfect a selfie trout pout after one mouthful of the stuff*.

Burgers were succulent and juicy, just held together by their gluey brioche bun. The dead hippy sauce is as creamy and tangy as I remember and Mr P is still baffled by how they made the bacon on his cheeseburger quite so crispy.

My heart flutters when I remember the hippie fries. Amazing sweetness comes from the onions paired with the saltiness of the fries and tart hippie sauce.

You know I don’t like to go out for lunch without guzzling cocktails and so did just that. Their mojito isn’t the best I’ve sampled but the house grog was so fruity and boozy I wanted to take my top off and dance on the bar**.

I’m not normally one for a dessert but the bourbon and coke float is absolute genius. I’ve started putting ice-cream in all my alcoholic beverages. Pinot noir and Phish Food is a winner.

So I suspect this won’t be the last time we travel East for Meat Liquor’s brilliant burgers. I owe the people of Leeds a topless dance. Plus an apology for saying they sound funny.***

 http://www.meatliquor.com/leeds/

*I don’t take selfies. I have a weird face.

**I would have done this but I was wearing a dress. 

***You do sound funny. 

[mrspetticoat]

Beef & Pudding, Manchester

I imagine it’s quite difficult to think of an original, snappy name for a new restaurant, so I totally *get* the ‘does what it says on the tin’ type branding of Burger & Lobster, Dogs ‘n’ Dough and the like. But where is my Quesadilla & Caipirinha Cantina? I can’t seem to locate a Chip Butties & Bubbles Bar either (WHAT ARE YOU DOING RESTAURATEURS?). Beef & Pudding is the latest of this type, but it’s amazing what a buzz a name can create – I’ve been salivating like Beethoven* over the thought of it for many months now.

We arrived on a fully booked Thursday to a bustling restaurant with a great atmosphere and immediately turned to the cocktail list which is rather fizz happy (a term which I often use to describe myself because it so accurately illustrates my mood during 80% of my non-working time).

Strawberry and Vanilla Fizz (£7.50)

The Dripping Pig Ribs (£5.95) tempted three of our table – beautiful they were too, the ribs were sticky and pull apart served with a treacle dip.

The Tempura Monkfish was also a lovely little starter but at £8.95 I consider it a bit outside the price point for a restaurant of its kind. I really enjoyed it however, and if there’s ever an awkward silence, these can be used to perform a near perfect Vito Corleone impersonation.

On a Thursday, there is a special ‘dirty’ food menu. I’m not exactly sure what is dirty about a Thursday - maybe it’s the day before their bin collection, but this special menu contains extra burgers and giant slabs of meat. I chose my main dish from this menu but for reasons** which are probably alien to Christina Aguilera (who would most certainly embrace the theme with far more vigour than my blushed cheeks would ever allow me).

Our Bantersaurus Rex of a waiter took great pleasure in my order of The Big Boner (£19.95) and over-did the innuendo so much that my eyes were rolling in my head so dynamically I resembled a ventriloquist dummy whose operator was having a funny turn. Annoying name aside, this beautiful bone-in beef rib was my dish of the meal. Served with a smoky BBQ onion gravy, it was so large I took leftovers home and made beef rendang with it the day after.

Chips reminded me of my Mum’s. This is the biggest seal of approval I could ever give.

Mr P had The Pudding at £14.95. I prefer a softer suet and this seemed more pie to me, but it was packed with beef & Barbon Fell venison and I loved the mash and black peas.

Burgers didn’t go down as well – they were overcooked and lacked juice. The Howling at the Moon sauce in a pipette is a nice touch, but please beware as I almost required skin grafts to the tongue after sampling a drop.

I’ve seen mixed reviews for Beef & Pudding, but on the whole I really enjoyed it. There’s a great vibe, service is warm and friendly and co-owner Dave Mooney has an excellent moustache. I left fizz happy and took a big boner home***. If that’s not a good night, I don’t know what is.

http://www.beefandpudding.co.uk/

*Beethoven the dog. There is no evidence to show that classical composer Ludwig had a salivation problem. I’m sure his mouth was practically moisture free.

**I was hungry

***I made a blue joke as my Mum confessed she doesn’t read my blog because ‘it’s all about food’.

Disclaimer: I did not pay for my food as my friend did because I am an awesome friend and a pleasure to have around. Or she wants me to get heart disease and die. Make your own minds up.

[mrspetticoat]

The Hand & Flowers, Marlow

The Hand & Flowers – 2 Michelin stars, four AA rosettes and awarded best gastro pub in the country. Yet there is something about Tom Kerridge’s restaurant that makes people quite angry. ‘How can a pub have 2 Michelin stars?’ they cry from one corner. ‘How can this place be considered as good as Noma?’ comes from the other and there I am in the middle, looking a bit confused as I look for an exit route from this weird room I’m in.

I decided that the best way to attack this (the baying crowed had made me aggressive!) was to go with an open mind. I wasn’t expecting 2 star opulence nor predicting world class precision – I simply wanted to have some good pub grub and perhaps get a little squiffy.

There’s a lengthy wait to dine at The Hand & Flowers – don’t expect to be there a week on Thursday (unless you already have a reservation on that day, and in that case, enjoy!), it was 6 months before we could procure the first Friday lunchtime spot.

Upon our arrival, the entrance bar area was rammed with posh looking people and we had to awkwardly share a table with a gentleman wearing a cravat. I cursed myself for not getting tipsy beforehand so that I could have cut the silence surrounding the table by regaling him with stories about what an arsehole my cat is.

Absolute arshole

We ordered a couple of cocktails while we waited and enjoyed a generous helping of spicy nuts (I’d insert a joke about spicy nuts here, but my Mum might read this. Hi Mum!)

Smoked martini (£10.50) mint Julep (£8.50)

Despite the claustrophobia caused by the bar area, the dining room is far more spacious and the atmosphere relaxed. I didn’t fear placing my elbows on the table like the commoner I am and at one point even removed my shoes.

Complementary whitebait was spot on and I loved the bread which was soft and spongy with really good butter.

The menu is so strong that the inner turmoil it created has no doubt taken a number of years off my life.

I finally settled on the carpaccio of unsmoked salmon (£14.50) which was beautifully delicate but when paired with the decadent caviar and ‘punch in the stomach’ strong whisky jelly, it made my heart go all of a flutter.

Soft, fluffy blinis

Mr P however, had picked my favourite dish of the two, the crab ravioli with smoked butter (£11.50) was silky and rich, with undertones of onion cutting right through the smooth crab.

I was in such a quandary when it came to picking just one main so ordered the obvious choice -the course that won The Great British Menu for Tom in 2010. The slow cooked duck breast with savoy cabbage, duck fat chips and gravy (£28) was full of big meaty flavours, but it left me a bit bored. Very much like Rachel Stevens, it looked great and did what it is supposed to do well, but it lacked personality and didn’t make me feel anything at all.

Mr P’s dish on the other hand was an absolute belter - his half beer roast chicken had been brined for many hours, leading to a soft and tender meat. Beautifully topped with black truffle, garlic and thyme - if my duck was Rachel Stephens, this was Beyoncé. A cheeky little thing that hit all the notes perfectly and had a nice meaty rear.

Sides were all great, I especially enjoyed the purple spouting broccoli (£4.50)

We hadn’t driven for three hours to let a distended stomach cut our meal short so went straight in for a dessert and ordered extra cocktails for good measure (which were all awesome).

Fleur de Cana (£9.50)

Hemmingway (£8.50)

I had the sweet malt gateau with malted ice cream (£9.50) which was perfectly ‘nice’ but again I was left underwhelmed and I’ve decided I shouldn’t be allowed to make decisions in the future. But this is a decision in itself, so I don’t know where to go from here.

Again, Mr P picked the better dish and I was struggling to hide my anger towards him. The pear soufflé with caraway crumble, caramelised white chocolate ice cream and pear sauce (£9.50) was pudding perfection. Sweet and billowy, it disintegrated once in the mouth as all good soufflés should. Luckily Mr P let me finish it off, so we can stay married for now.

I had no complaints about the service. Everybody was warm and friendly but there was very little interaction, which wasn’t a problem for us because unlike some couples we see in restaurants, we actually like each other.

I do believe it is overpriced, but there’s a set lunch menu at £19.50 for three courses which is phenomenal value.

I almost feel that in awarding The Hand & Flowers two stars, Michelin are doing them a disservice. This is a great restaurant with top-notch food, but because of this silly accolade, people are expecting a Noma or L’enclume experience. So my suggestion is this: ignore the awards. Go to The Hand & Flowers with an open mind, empty belly and big fat wallet. See it for what it is – a pub with really good food.

http://www.thehandandflowers.co.uk/

Disclaimer: no offense to Rachel Stevens.

[mrspetticoat]

Azurmendi, Bilbao, Spain

I may have mentioned before that I like a fuss to be made of my birthday. I’d suggest a national holiday but *apparently* I’m not important enough. During this years’ preparations, as I sat aboard the EasyJet flight bound for Bilbao, with a petulant child counting to one hundred whilst kicking my chair the whole way and experiencing turbulence so terrifying that screams littered the air from fellow passengers for a large proportion of the journey*, I thought ‘maybe next year we’ll stay at home.’

Our destination restaurant this year was Azurmendi - a place brought to my attention by fellow Mancunian blogger Bacon on the Beech after he visited last year. With his photos, its 3 Michelin stars and a whopping 20/20 review from all around food man in the know, Andy Hayler, I had high hopes that this year would be one to remember (unlike the Hard Rock Café birthday of 2001).

However, this flight wasn’t going well. We’d already experienced one gut-wrenching failed landing and there was the threat of a diversion to France. Add this to the infuriatingly loud child (still counting to 100), I found myself holding my breath with anxiety for so long, I resembled Moon Pig.

Thankfully, my complexion had returned to normal by the time we finally landed in the correct country.Yet on our way to Azurmendi, our taxi driver couldn’t find the restaurant and we were soon trundling up a hillside at such a speed I was convinced we were being kidnapped and held to ransom by a crazed Basque separatist in a frightening case of mistaken identity.

Following a confusing cross language conversation with our driver, it turned out he was not in fact a terrorist but simply a tad lost and after performing the world’s most dangerous U turn on a hillside road with no fencing, we were finally on our way.

Most people would have found the events of the day so stressful that it would cruelly rob them of their appetite. Not me. Danger makes me hungry.

Picture pinched from Bacon on the Beech

Walking into Azurmendi, a feeling of calm was immediately upon me. Looking around at the couples dotted throughout the entrance hall, it felt as if we had been handpicked to continue the human race on another planet due to the imminent decimation of the human race, but this quite frankly made no sense as I do not hold any of the necessary traits one would like to see continued in the future of mankind.

Within a few minutes we were offered a tour around the grounds by one of the chefs. I was wary about entering the gardens as there is plant kryptonite in my DNA – even the cockroach of the plant world, the cactus, cannot withstand my powers. As we went through our journey, there were little snacks planted along the way for us to try and thankfully nothing died.

Pumpkin seed and sheep milk biscuit

Avocado pit

Citric bark

Carrot

Fruity tomato

Flower and citric cold infusion

Bread and jam, CaipiriTxa, homemade seasoned anchovy

We were then shown to the kitchen where we met head chef Eneko Atxa, and what a bloody nice chap he is (I got three hugs!)

Homemade black pudding and bean broth

It was now time to take our seats. The view was breath-taking. I attempted to capture this in photo form, but with the clear night sky and my brightly coloured dress, I captured only a rubbish selfie, and nobody wants to see that.

Photo pinched from Bacon on the Beech

There are two menus, from which we the chose the larger of the two, the ‘Adarrak’ at €160.

Steamed buns

Spelt bread

Hazelnut, peanut, almond and mushroom leaf

Egg from our hens, cooked inside out and truffled

Bloody ‘Mar’

Oyster, vegetable and sea pil-pil accompanied by sea urchin

Roasted lobster out of the shell on its own emulsion and flower

Foie-gras Ashes

Charcoal-grilled squid on its juice and pickled onion

Salted stew: vegetables, anchovies and iberics

Red mullet, spider crab and cauliflower

Pigeon, deuxelle and truffle - have you ever seen mushrooms look so pretty?

Dry croissant of fruits and creamy cheese ice cream

Apple with txakoli

Red fruits and almonds

Petit fours

One word review? Wow.

But I won’t just leave it at that. Azurmendi is incredible in so many ways. The food is original – it made us close our eyes in euphoria, rub our bellies with glee and even raise our eyebrows sceptically (sea urchin juice in a bloody mary, anyone?). Our waiter was a charismatic fellow, who had perfected the English tongue and announced all our perfectly timed dishes with dramatic flair. It was all so very wonderful

Recently named 7th best restaurant in the world by Elite Traveller, Azurmendi can proudly hold its head up among the rest of the top 10.

Getting there may have been one of the most stressful journeys of my life, but for Azurmendi, I’d do it all again. But perhaps with ear plugs, a bottle of bourbon and a sedative.

http://www.azurmendi.biz

*Are you on a plane with your small child? Is your child really loud and annoying? Please tell it to shut up!