If I wasn’t deliciously content with being a Mancunian, I would definitely try my hand at being a Yorkie.
Sure you have to deal with this eyesore at every turning…
Blue skies? Forget about it.
And if buttery bricks of fudge is your bag…you’re definitely in the wrong place…
But amongst the cobbled streets, rich heritage, and houses so adorable they inspire Christmas cards; you’ll find that a hearty feed is never too far away.
After a day of exploration, Mr P’s Curious Tavern is the possibly the most perfect place to warm your cockles after the sun goes down.
Squeezed in amongst the higgedly-piggedly shop fronts down Low Petergate, Mr P’s is owned by Michelin-starred Chef, Andrew Pern and prides itself on it’s innovative, internationally inspired cooking, all concocted using local produce.
The restaurant itself is simply busting with cosiness and charm, a popular choice for many, we had popped in earlier to book and so were able to snuggle into one of their cosiest corners straight away, leaving no time before arming ourselves with menus and handsomely large G&Ts.
Whilst tempted by the large plates, we were in the mood for a little of everything; and so, egged on by our lovely server, ordered a veritable feast, fit for kings.
Pigs in Blankets
Dripping in a light glaze of their own juices, these porky cuddles of hors d’oeuvres are gloriously moreish, and wickedly good when dunked into the dollop of mustard mayonnaise.
Possibly some of THE best Calamari I’ve ever had the pleasure in tasting; the rings are positively giant, crisped to perfect and are packed with juicy squid; served with squid ink aioli, one bite and you’ll be happy as a clam (if said clam had just caught a mother load of squid).
Pine Roast Mackeral
Served with spiced quince, horseradish on a crisp layer of pumpernickel; this plate was smaller than desired however the flavours were really quite impeccable.
Brioche Door Stop
Buttery bread topped with a layer of cranberry & clementine relish and a thick blanket of raclette cheese. Sadly not as gooey as my inner cheese fiend would have lost her mind over; but still ri-donk-ulously good.
Smoked Pheasant ‘Scotch Egg’
The shining star of all our small plates, lay atop a chestnut mushroom velouté, the crumbed coat concealed an oozy, sunshine river of yolk which only met the plate briefly before being gobbled up with gusto by the both of us.