IT WAS the week something loathsome heaved itself from its shadowy lair and flopped its sweating corpse northwards, slithering into nurseries and sports centres before spawning a seven-headed monster in its nest at Media City.
The Bury Bomb is a breadcrumbed meteor of Lancashire cheese and black pudding wrapped in a potato and Serrano ham shell
I’m referring to the political establishment of course. I visited Beef and Pudding just before the debate and found myself seated next to a party of Conservative apparatchiks, no doubt enjoying a bit of the local fayre in between backroom deals and backstabbing. Or maybe even at the same time, they’re multitaskers this lot.
I don’t know if the politicos knew how appropriate their choice of venue was. Beef and Pudding is named not only after its principal dishes but a political caricature of the Peterloo massacre by George Cruikshank, in which the butcherous yeomanry descend upon unarmed protestors, the Major yelling: "Down with 'em! Chop em down my brave boys: give them no quarter they want to take our Beef & Pudding from us! ---- & remember the more you kill the less poor rates you'll have to pay so go at it Lads show your courage & your Loyalty!"
It certainly makes the bedroom tax look tame.
Beef and Pudding has a lot in common with the schizophrenic presentation of politics. On the one hand the hearty pub-style grub is part Old Boy establishment nursery food, part down-to-earth, just-one-of-you-chaps pint swiller. On the other hand the setting is decidedly trendy urban, with unvarnished wood walls and subway tiles. It’s pleasant enough but doesn’t feel quite right, like a politician picking the Arctic Monkeys as a Desert Island disc because the media advisor told them it would make them more relatable, when you know they really want to plump for a bit of Wagner.
Beef & PuddingBut to the food. The Bury Bomb (£5.95) is a breadcrumbed meteor of Lancashire cheese and black pudding wrapped in a potato and Serrano ham shell, trailed by a streak of homemade ‘HP’ sauce. The first bite was great, but the flavours didn’t develop as I thought they might. The sauce did give it some much-needed bite but again lacked subtley.
The beef carpaccio (£8.95) was, as carpaccio must be, tender and melting, but again lacked flavour. Crispy tripe and pickles (£5.95) was a r-einterpretation of a northern ‘favourite’ which surprised by being served with thin strips of pepper. I couldn’t decide if it was an interesting and piquant variation or if I was just relieved that someone had made stomach lining edible. An achievement either way.
For the mains, the Beef’ham Burger (£15.95) was, like its namesake, an impressive looking tower of a thing. In a town of show-off burgers, this certainly stands out. Some of my soft quinoa-eating southern friends express disbelief at the existence of a pie barm, so imagine their faces when they hear of a burger that contains its own suet pudding. It’s enough to make one choke on one’s kale chips. Deliberate southerner-baiting aside, the smuggled pudding is overkill but the burger itself is pretty tasty and the onion rings are a good touch. It comes with a pipette of hot sauce that our waiter reassured us has been toned down recently. I don’t know what it was like before but it is still strong enough to steam several layers of cells from the roof of your mouth. Extreme caution advised. The accompanying chips are wonderful, cooked in beef dripping, and with a reassuring heft to them without being the overly large ‘chunky’ doorstops so beloved these days. Still, decent sides aside, that’s a steep price for a steep burger.
Given the name, I felt I had to order Pudding Love (£14.95); billed as a ‘one-person pudding buffet' this is a trio featuring beef, haddock and chicken puddings (one of each, not all glommed together in some sort of suet melting pot, Nigel Forbid). The accompanying mash was faultless, the mushy peas fine, but the puddings themselves were a bit on the heavy side. The pastry was more pie-like than pudding, which for my money should be soft and suety. This dish might make you feel warm and fortified in January, but at the tender dawn of spring it felt all wrong. To be fair the menu does feature lots of lighter dishes, though light isn't exactly the vibe here.
Beef carpaccio
Beef'ham burgerNaturally, Beef and Pudding also has a wide range of heart-attack inducing desserts, but I could only manage a cherry and amaretto ice-cream, which tasted like those eighties Screwballs. A plus for me though as it doesn’t quite chime with the restaurant-level sophistication the place is going for.
When it comes to Beef and Pudding, I’m more torn than a swing voter, spun into indecision by the seven podium-hoggers in my mind talking over one another: ‘it’s decent, honest, patriotic food’ ‘but it’s fiscally irresponsible!’ ‘what about that hot sauce?’ ‘a vote for chips is a vote for Britain’ ‘Tripe!’
All these opinions (plus that pastry) made me dyspeptic. Beef and Pudding serves what is basically tarted-up pub food at keen prices. I have absolutely nothing against pub food, or indeed tartiness (I’m all for it in food at least), but it’s a discombobulating experience. Customers will vote with their feet and with their wallets. I suspect the heartiness and the familiarity will continue to be very popular, the eating tax less so. I’d love to see the exit polls.
All scored reviews are unannounced, impartial, paid for by Confidential and completely independent of any commerical relationship.
Beef & Pudding, 37 Booth Street, Manchester M2 4AA.
Rating: 13.5/20
Food: 6 (Carpaccio 5, Tripe 5, Bury Bomb 5, Burger 7, Puddings 6, Ice-cream 6)
Service: 4.5 Near-faultless.
Ambience: 3 Crazy loud music but with a smooth and professional feel.
