Lucha Libre, Liverpool & Manchester
Mexican street food isn’t the most inspiring of culinary concepts in this the year of our Lord two thousand and fourteen. Too many tired, poorly done burritos churned out by bored, overqualified millennials and the prevalence of decent-enough Old El Paso DIY packs and fixings make much Mexican dining seem redundant. But this mini-chain Lucha Libre, first opened in Liverpool before travelling up the ship canal to Manchester, has turned tedium into tasty. I visited the Manchester branch which is right next to a bowling lane frequented by Mario Balotelli. Its metallic interior looks a bit like that electro-goth club from the original Terminator, but the food isn’t at all austere. The Cali burrito took me by surprise, mixing steak with guacamole, cheese and – the real coup de grace – sweet potato fries. It doesn’t so much reinvent the Mexican food wheel as add some impressive and tasty hubcaps.
LB
My food vice… BTW: Bermondsey Tonic Water
Over 250 years on from William Hogarth’s grim depiction of profligate gin consumption, happy days are here again as London enjoys a gin renaissance with numerous small distilleries springing up all over town. While some connoisseurs take their delicately crafted spirit neat, I prefer a dash of tonic water, but was never a fan of the chemically enhanced yellow-label varieties which overwhelmed the taste of the gin. I recently discovered Mother’s Ruin’s new BF: BTW. Bermondsey Tonic Water is handcrafted in small batches derived from a Victorian recipe containing an infusion of natural ingredients, including cinchona bark quinine. Developed last year exclusively for basement cocktail bar 214 Bermondsey, it comes only in concentrated form, with a premixed version available soon. Add 25ml to the gin and top with soda water; it gives your drink a golden hue, tastes amazing and is miles better than the alternative.
£15 for 500ml, btw-drinks.com
PB
Joanna Fuertes-Knight on food: Dieting apps
Sifting through what are now thousands of available dieting apps, the general gist of every single one seems to be to transform calorie counting into a sort of lame version of Candy Crush, rather than a life-ruining leach on your soul. The problem is, after the novelty has worn off, you just have notifications which may as well read, “Heya, still a pudgy wreck? Would you like to calculate how close you are to needing an artery stent?” They become counteractive in the same way the most even-tempered of us can have a violent dislike of well-meaning eco-warriors: you know their morals are right, but nobody likes feeling judged. So delete and go app-free, because it’ll only morph into every waif-like sociopath who’s smiled pityingly whenever you fell off the deli-meat wagon.
