I’ve been sort of looking for an excuse to revisit Northern Soul.
I mean, yes for the oozy delicious cheesy goodness, but actually more because a gym friend of mine, who happens to be American, commented that us Brits seem to view grilled cheese as a meal, and it isn’t.
Now, on most things Liz and I will agree – spin class should leave you feeling like you have legs of jelly. Cats are the best pet (no arguments please, I’m not home enough to be able to walk a dog, I am happy to adore other people’s instead), and that the cleaner chap at her place is more than a bit creepy.
But on this? No. Nuhuh. Nope. Sorry.
Grilled cheese can be a meal, especially if it’s from Northern Soul. Though I’ll admit the idea of being able to consider it just a snack makes me happy in some respects because it means I could eat it twice between meals without a qualm. Except given the portion size and amount of cheese, I wouldn’t want a main meal, and that’s kind of the point.
For the uninitiated, Northern Soul began life as a little venue across from Manchester Arndale on Church Street. The combination of Northern Soul music, with thick slices of bread, filled with their house blend of cheese, along with extras like pulled pork, meatballs, fried chicken, and anything else they could think to add to cheese, meant they’ve since opened a second site near Piccadilly Train station, which is where we headed.
The reason we visited, however, wasn’t quite for the happy excuse I’d have liked. We were heading to catch a train, I made us late, and we had to wait for the next one. My husband was cross. The only way to fix it was liberal application of cheese, and beer (from the Piccadilly Tap) while we waited.
My husband’s temper soothed a little by a pint, we wandered down for lunch.
For me, I needed a little guilt induced comfort food, and the fish finger sandwich – featuring their three cheese blend, fish fingers, American cheese with home-made tartare sauce & rocket was my selection. Crisp, but not break a tooth hard sourdough, oozy cheese, peppery rocket and crisp fish fingers. Just what I needed
On the other hand, my husband needed a little sharpness to take the edge off his temper. So he opted for the Cuban Pete. The house cheese blend with barbecue pork, roast ham, melted cheese, French’s American mustard and thinly sliced dill pickle. Mouthfuls of tangy, gooey cheese, with layers of tender meat, improved his mood no end.
Finally, to share (I mean he was very cross), poutine. This one must be popular as they had run out of chips, and we had sweet potato fries instead. Even so, there was something pleasing about the gravy soaked sweet creamy potato along with the cheese, that made everything better anyway.
If you’ve not visited Northern Soul yet, let this be a nudge in their direction. For many things can be made better by the liberal application of cheese*.
And Liz, you’re still wrong. Sorry.
*Yeah, I know, not for the lactose intolerant when liberal applications of cheese will only make things worse. I’m sorry, you’re missing out on something glorious. I do love cheese.
