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Home / Food & Drink / Italian
Carluccio's
Gordo visits Carluccio's at the Trafford Centre
Date Published: 10/04/2007
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Gordo took his little pal Winker to Carluccio's in the Trafford Centre on Good Friday for a quick spot of lunch. Gordo had gone to one of the first Carluccio's, many years ago, in Bond Street in London. It was good. This one has been watered down – obviously we’re not ready yet to get the real thing. Bit silly this, as Marco Pierre White, Nico Ladenis and Gary Rhodes amongst others, have found to their cost. Us Northerners don’t like being patronised. At Carluccio's there’s nothing in the stripped down deli to encourage us to make a special trip. The ‘famous’ Gelati Artigianali ice cream is ok but bettered by a number of local producers like Dunham Massey Farm. The cheese is bettered by Selfridges and Harvey Nichols, whilst the Cheese Hamlet in Didsbury spanks the lot. Fresh pasta sauces look fine, the various tarts appear worthy of a go and the bread beautifully presented. But nothing to delight you too much. The other side of the space is the ‘caffe’. There are few surprises on the menu, for this is another faux Italian. A bowl of fairly good (ie not bitter) green olives (£1.70) to nibble, followed by arancini di riso Siciliani (£5.75), rice balls, one with mozzarella, the other a meat ragu. Gordo loved them, Winker thought they were a bit dry, but seemed to be ignoring a pepolata (red pepper) sauce served on the side which sorted out any aridity. Pasta con funghi (£6.25) was the outstanding dish of the day, half button, half wild mushrooms with lots of woody flavours knocking about. The sauce was just sticky enough not to be dripping off the pasta which was the house brand of egg pappardelle. Winkers filleto di maiale con pepperoni (£9.75) was pork fillet, pan fried with a well balanced seasoning, including herbs, sharing the plate with sweet and sour peppers that had been cooked to melting then left to go cold. They were fab. Then the Fegato Veneziana. (£10.95). Calves liver, balsamic onions and roast new potatoes with rosemary. On the plate, the dish looked a brown mess. It tasted like a brown mess. The calves liver had been over floured, cooked at too low a temperature and for too long, it tasted of soggy cardboard. The onions were iffy at best and there was not a lot of balsamic knocking about. Mr. Carluccio, in his book Complete Italian Food, spends one and a half paragraphs on his recipe for this classic from Venice. It isn’t enough, there are techniques to be learned here. Actually, from memory, it’s the Veneto version in the book, they leave out the vinegar. But he tells the cook to fry the calves liver for three to four minutes to get it pink in the middle. That’s wrong, two minutes each side is how it should be done. Longer and you may as well be using lambs liver, cooking on low for ten minutes. The marriage of the onions and the liver should be a last minute affair. Maybe the chef had made the basic mistake of following the book and not his taste buds? In fairness, the fantastic lady serving us offered to replace the dish, but Gordo wanted to try the ice cream and as he had polished off the pasta previously he was in danger of popping. |
The ice cream (£3.35 for two scoops) was nice. But mean. Gordo would go back, but only if he had been found guilty of something and sentenced to a trip to the Trafford Centre. Indeed speaking of pointless journeys and Winker the whole thing put Gordo in mind of an occasion in Italy some years ago. Gordo and Winker shared a villa together in Lucca, Tuscany, for a couple of weeks. Never again. It was middle class hell. Winker and his missus, the fragrant but single minded Fiona, seemed to spend most of the time sticking knives into each other. One memorable night, the party drive to San Gimignano for dinner, a good 120 miles away down the motorway. Fiona and Winker carry on the bickering on the way home, Fiona being egged on by Debbie Garner, no relation, who clearly considers Winker to be less worthy than the chewing gum which had stuck to her Russell and Bromley pumps earlier in the evening. By the time they reach the toll booths to get on the motorway the atmosphere is boiling. “And another thing Debbie, he snorts and farts at the same time when he’s asleep”, says Fiona on Winker’s night time habits. “Bollocks to this,” retorts Winker, who gets out of the car and jumps over the barrier into dense foliage. Gordo is baffled and has to make a decision: does he pull over or go through? Gordo makes his mind up. Winker has clearly had enough and gone for a drink. The toll paid, Gordo settles into to a 100 mile trip back to the villa with the Witches of Eastwick in the back of the car doing a character assassination on Winker all the way home. Gordo wakes with a start at 5.45am the following morning by some mentalist trying to break down the front door of the villa. Opening the door, Gordo is confronted by Winker, dirty, dishevelled and very pissed off. “Well, did you have a good one”, asks Gordo. “Fucking good what?” steams Winker. “I went for a quick piss in the bushes and you buggered off! It’s taken me six hours to get back.” A piss in the bushes. As so often a visit to The Trafford Centre felt just about as satisfying. Score 13.5/20 (Food 6/10 Service 4.5/5 Ambience 3/5) Caffe Carluccio’s (The Great Hall The Trafford Centre 0161 747 4973 www.carluccios.com) |
Loz Byrne says.." Tell Gordo if he wants something to REALLY complain about, he should go to the new Slug & Lettuce on Deansgate! The worst food and service I've come across in a VERY long time."
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Anonymous says.." Wait - I think I have found it! There is a food review in here somewhere....."
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