Mr Scruff’s Teacup

There are not many places in Manchester you can get a sublime cake after 7pm, indeed there are not many places you can get a desert worthy of review in Manchester, so Teacup got my taste buds salivating with anticipation way before I entered through the doors of DJ and producer Mr Scruff’s embodiment and tribute to all things tea.

Teacup is what many would call cute and fortunately for my tastes buds, the cakes match the welcoming interior.

Whilst the daytime is predominately about tea and cakes, there is enough choice within the paper menus to fulfil the most energetic of appetites. In particular my choice of beef balls with mushroom and rocket infused gravy were a delight. Equally the portion size appeased my ever so particular and exacting northern requirements.

There are few self-respecting Northerners raised on cautionary stories of post-war rationing in the mythical Isle of Sandwich that could resist the aroma of freshly baked bread. The choice was limited to two, but in a city dominated like the rest of supermarket Britain by the uniformity plastic wrapped Chorleywood loaf that dominates the premium shelf space, it was a very welcome surprise.

In my finest dulcet accent, I opted for the not-so-northern-sounding Pain Catalan. Thankfully, neither was I presented with a tribute to the Spanish Inquisition or what sounds like a culinary interpretation of Nicholas Cage’s Italian accent in Captain Corelli’s Mandolin, but rather a delight to the taste buds. Combining the flavours of tomato and red onion with complementing gravy, both Mancunian and anosmics alike would be hooked.

It was a rather chilly afternoon, so I didn’t indulge in any side salads, but looking over my right shoulder, the lady in the canary yellow 99% cashmere, 1% elastane pullover seemed very content and pleased with her choice of freshly tossed leaves and homemade dressing, which equally appeared in good supply as it seemed tasty.

The gastronomic finale was equally rewarding and came in the shape of a rather unanticipated and unexpected desert. Shrugging off traditional comfort and cautionary bias towards homemade cheesecake, I went for one of my grans old favourites, truffles. Again I was not disappointed.

I rounded off my visit to Teacup with the truffle delights, and Italian caffè macchiato of milk-foamed, chocolate topped liquid heaven.

Teacup isn’t the cheapest around, but then good and ‘proper’ produce often isn’t. And when food is as pleasurable and as pain free as this, why would you ever want to go back to the processed lottery that gave us Findus 100% equine lasagne and the modern food economy.

The only reason I didn’t give it 5* stars is because I didn’t spy custard on the menu. Some old habits just won’t die.

This review contains no horsemeat.


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