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The perils of dining out

The perils of dining out

A couple of nights ago, I decided to pop along to the North West Friends Dinner Group, a small meeting group just started up and dedicated towards good dinners.

So we met at the City Cafe, part of the City Inn in Manchester, recently raved by Manchester Confidential with a few entertaining stories about the volatility of the chef.

Waiting to get into the City Cafe, the person in front of me (a distinguished older gent) greeted the maître d’ with the immortal words:

“I don’t want to eat. I just walked by and just wanted to tell you that you are gorgeous. Absolutely gorgeous.”

He then shook the hand of the understandably stunned maître d’ (imagine an older David Platt) and then walked off.

Gradually, a gang of about seven people assembled for dinner and conversation as we all got to know each other. Then the food arrived. It was lovely and tasted fine, but why are the portions so tiny ?! The little haddock-on-bread I took a picture of cost £10. No side dishes – I had to order extra. There’s barely enough there to do more than taste and sniff at the food.

Or am I just a greedy sod? Is this the portion I should expect to get in a posh hotel restaurant?

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