Sunday, Bloody Sunday.
You wake up in the morning, you’ve got to read all the papers, the kids are running around, you’ve got to mow the lawn, wash the car, and you think
Sunday. Bloody Sunday
With a few adjustments to the woes listed by Alan Partridge , I often do think the same. They’re doomful. It’s a whole day off work, but laced with doom and tedium. Not to be dramatic.
However, my fellow mancs, honorary and by birth, yesterday was a different animal altogether.
Imagine the scene.
A bus that drives you around Manchester, dropping you off at various locations for meat treats (it rhymes, you see).
Yeah, bit odd, but yeah…
…I hear you murmur.
Imagine that bus but with the addition of a team of chefs cooking up a storm up top, to provide you with mouth watering meaty morsels (alliteration) as you ride between stops.
That can’t be real, that’s insane…
I hear you mutter.
It is. But wait.
Imagine all that, all of that, with a saucy side of beers, beats and bantz! Can’t can you?! I knew it.
It happened and it happened to me one Sunday not too long ago (basically yesterday).
And us lucky carnivorous commuters couldn’t move for it on board.
It is at this point in proceedings that I should point out that all food and drink consumed was of a normal food colour. You can’t have a meat bus (it’s a bus of meat innit) without flashing lights and strobes so don’t be alarmed.
Before we’d even set off to our first destination on the tour, we were handed an amuse bouche of beer and pulled pork nachos.
One wet wipe later and we pulled up to Crazy Pedro’s.
Before we got on the bus and caused no fuss…well basically nothing, but it’s good to paraphrase an Oasis lyric in a Manchester blog, despite the passing decades.
Paired with this delightful morsel, we were handed a Punk IPA as a teaser for our next stop – beer tasting at Brewdog:
Sniff, sniff, sniff, sniiiiiiiff and then gulp
Naturally my gulp was more of a sip and a choke (I can’t take instruction) but I did get notes of lemons and limes, I’ll have you know.
Also have you heard of mouthfeel? Mouthfeel.
I don’t want to talk about it. I put that word up there with foodbaby and moist.
I’m going to admit bowing out of our beer tasting meat chaser. It’s not Meat Lust, it’s me. Parked up in Stevenson Square, even if I had got past the rabbit and black pudding (albeit wrapped in pancetta), the whipped cream would have sent me and my mouthfeel under.
However, it has to be said that I heard a number of my fellow meatbusers that it was the best yet. More fool me.
My photography skills of said dish matched my adventurous approach to it – woeful…
It was time to move on with a lamb fajita (secret ingredient popcorn which weirdly and seriously worked) and a Tickety Brew set against a delightful denim backdrop…
Ray and his people specialise in dogs and waffles. Hotdogs. ‘Franks’. It took me longer than decent to work out what a frank was, it has to be said.
All this set against a Studio 54 soundtrack, it’s a great place to visit even when not being taken there on a meat bus.
Now I had an amazing pun all lined up for this last tasting. One of my better ones. Alas, today I realised that my original play on words is the tagline for one of Manchester’s newest food outlets.
Still I’m going with it (good work Taberu).
This last saucy surprise was a fluffy steamed bun, filled with pork and spicy sauce.
Final foodstuff? Take a bao.
To sum up my saucy Sunday, Meat Lust served up a top three hour tour filled with mouthwatering meat, fine Manchester beats, a generous serving of bus beers and plenty of onboard laughs along the way.
Sticky fingers crossed, the tour returns to Manchester again soon.
For now, enjoy all the saucy deets