Welcome to Gordo’s Bits & Bobs: a regular rummage through Manchester’s food scene and assorted city nonsense. Expect cracking dishes, curious discoveries, strong opinions and the odd thing that’s made Gordo laugh throughout the month.

My favourite advertising: Greggs

I like Greggs. I think it’s pretty much the perfect food business. It gives people what they want, every time, and people enjoy it, including me.

It’s difficult to better the value of a Greggs bacon sandwich and a cup of tea. £3.25? I mean, come on folks. The buns are as fresh as fresh can be, the bacon is decent quality and there’s lots of brown sauce. What more do you want?

So what’s the point of this little tale?

I was up in Colne, Lancashire, having a look at the local council’s attempt at a Mackie Mayor. Standing outside, I spotted a large Greggs delivery truck and had to do a double take.

Then I burst out laughing.

‘NOT ACTUAL SIZE.’

So, I’ve got to tell you, not only do my mates at Greggs make great bacon sandwiches, their advertising makes me laugh as well.

What more do you want out of life?

Meal of the month: 10 Tib Lane

Lunch at 10 Tib Lane in Manchester with Jonathan Schofield and Mathew Frost.

We ate extraordinarily well.

£24 for two courses. Twenty-four quid.

Littlewood’s Toulouse sausage, brown butter lentils, crème fraîche and herb oil. Deep, deep flavours. If you want it described as a musical instrument, this was a tuba: low and slow.

Then padrón peppers on pungent romesco sauce scattered with smoked almonds. They took me to Carcassonne 600 years ago: gypsies around campfires at midnight, smoke in the air, something ancient going on. The almonds gave the whole thing that lovely bit of crunch.

Our server was fabulous, with a wry smile on her face. She knew exactly what she was dealing with in the three of us.

And yet Tib Lane was almost as dead as a doornail on a Friday lunchtime.

Four tables.

One of the best-value lunches I’ve eaten in Manchester for a very long time; folks, you’re missing out here, put it in your list. Great cocktails as well from what I hear.

It’s a Gordo Go

10 Tib Lane, Tib Lane, Manchester

Sister Moon: Is this a proper bánh mì?

I was wandering down Deansgate the other day looking for a coffee and one of the superb croissants from the little hole in the wall at Pollen Club, next to Treehouse Hotel. It used to serve Pot Kettle Black coffee and croissants. Which are worth a journey.

There has been a change.

The hatch has been taken over by Sister Moon, Sam Grainger’s restaurant which, after what seems like two years of waiting, is apparently finally opening on the roof of Treehouse this week. We’ll see.

What caught my eye was the bánh mì. Pork or chicken, so naturally I ordered both.

Bloody good they were too. The fillings were superb, with both meats finished over a barbecue which seems to be permanently on the go. The chef apparently works with Sam and is involved with Sister Moon upstairs. This bloke can cook. And the peeps running the front of hatch, so to speak, are fabulous.

But I have a problem.

The bread was soft.

I’ve become a serious fan of Vietnamese food and, incidentally, the best I’ve found in the North West currently is at Le Viet Social in Liverpool.

My understanding of a proper bánh mì is that its French colonial heritage matters. You want a lovely crisp, light French-style baguette, split open and stuffed with meat, chilli, coriander, pickles, all the good stuff.

This one came in a soft baguette. It was tasty, but it was a bit like working through a pillow to get to the good stuff.

I’ve emailed Sam to ask about it but haven’t heard back yet. Like the rest of the team at Tree House, he isn’t as good at comms as he is at cooking.

Or maybe he just thinks I’m a twat? Hey Ho.

So, Vietnamese food experts: am I talking bollocks? Should a proper bánh mì be crisp or soft? Let take this seriously. Email me (mark@confidentials.com).

The chilled Vietnamese coffee was fab.

Maybe it’s a Gordo Go, but not sure yet.

Sister Moon at Treehouse Hotel Manchester, Blackfriars Street, Manchester, M3 2EQ

Happy Seasons: What's up, duck?

I walked into Happy Seasons years ago, drawn in by a window full of roast meats: chickens, ducks, and great racks of glistening, bronze belly pork. I wasn’t even sure how they served them.

They were superb.

I had two meats and rice, crispy belly pork and roast duck, and they were, quite simply, lush. I wrote the place up for Confidentials, with an absolute Gordo Go and it’s been busy ever since. Two roast meats and rice cost £5.50. I think this was around 2011. Years later, the price rose to £7.50; the queues kept building.

So, last week I walked back in.

The place has been spruced up and was looking very lively from the outside. For the first time in nearly two years, I ordered my old favourite.

I was hugely disappointed.

It was a serious fail. The duck was ordinary, and the crispy belly pork was chewy, without that fantastic crackling skin and creamy meat that used to melt. And, in a sign of the times, the price is now £15.

Readers, if you go in over the next few weeks, please tell me this was an aberration, because I am deeply depressed.

I shall try it again in a month’s time and report back.

It’s a Gordo Don’t Go.

Happy Seasons, 59 Faulkner Street, Manchester M1 4FF

AMÒ: I'll be back

Maurizio Cecco of Salvi’s fame opened Salvi’s Cucina on John Dalton Street in 2014. I can still play the paccheri ragù he served there through my mind like a video.

It was opposite Restaurant Bar & Grill, which in those days was going gangbusters, before most of Spinningfields had even got going. Every Friday the Confidential crew, anything up to 20 of us, would grab a couple of booths at four or five in the afternoon and get drunk. At about ten, we’d shoot across the road and polish the night off with a bloody great bowl of Maurizio’s ragù. Fantastic.

Now both Salvi’s at the Corn Exchange and Deansgate Square have closed and, according to Jonathan Schofield, Maurizio is opening a restaurant in Pompeii. That should be interesting.

Meanwhile, daughter Sienna Cecco is taking a much more prominent role and has opened something younger and more casual on Deansgate Mews, AMÒ, apparently Neapolitan slang for “my love”.

Well, I bloody loved the calamari and gamberoni fritti.

I went in last night with my pals Howard and Judith Watson for a quick run-in, run-out after Howard spotted the place. It’s in an awkward spot up on the Mews, but if Sienna keeps knocking food out at this quality, she won’t go far wrong.

The paccheri ragù alla Napoletana, “Sunday lunch ragù”, was super too. Not claggy, more refined, with the tomatoes still making themselves known.

I’m going back. It’s a Gordo Go.

AMÒ, Deansgate Mews, 253 Deansgate, Manchester M3 4EN

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