CityLife

Red Chilli

SHORTLY before discovering and writing The Origin Of Species, Charles Darwin did his best to eat most of the animals on the planet.

As a student at Cambridge University, he presided over the Glutton Club where, along with his cronies, he tucked into such rare delights as bittern and hawk.

Even on his way to the Galapagos Islands, Darwin was prepared to gorge on the unusual – declaring armadillo ‘the best meat I’ve ever tasted’.

So, on the 200th anniversary of his birth, I’ve launched a similar club of my own.

I’m not advocating shooting down kestrels or even trapping guide dogs for a taste of the unusual. Instead, I’ve opted for a 21st Century twist.

In these times of ethical and environmental awareness, I’ve brought out my rarely-seen humanist side and decided to eat some dishes for the very last time.

Without wishing to be evangelical, indeed I’m not encouraging anyone to join me, my own tiny contribution to saving the world is to stop eating a few of God’s less well-treated creatures.

Battery hens’ eggs were the first to go – not that difficult – followed by foie gras.

The controversial pate may be delicious, but force-feeding ducks and geese until their livers are ready to explode isn’t really the way I want my food to arrive on the plate.

A couple of months ago I ordered it for the last time at a cosy French restaurant in Soho. My final mouthful was wonderfully creamy and rich and tinged with a little hedonistic sadness.

Next on the list was shark’s fin soup – and it was, again, a gloomy goodbye… unfortunately, for entirely the wrong reasons.

With sister restaurants in Leeds, York, Atherton and Bacup, Red Chilli has become a popular mini-chain in the north.

And a quick visit to the website revealed an impressive list of awards, including a taste award for best Chinese Restaurant in the North last year.

Big Hands

Worryingly, the Oxford Road branch rubs shoulders with a MacDonald’s and Subway, although it sits opposite Big Hands – one of the best bars in Manchester and one I don’t spend nearly enough time in.

So, after stopping by for a quick aperitif, I bravely crossed the street – dodging the less endangered number 42 buses – to go in search of Jaws.

As Westhoughton’s finest, Robert Shaw, declared in Steven Spielberg’s masterpiece: “I’m talkin’ ‘bout sharkin’!”

My first impressions of Red Chilli were not too great.

The unremarkable façade leads into a dining room that looks a little like a shopping mall food market, with less of the atmosphere.

Unsympathetic décor

The bright lights and unsympathetic décor were reminiscent of its fast food neighbours rather than a friendly eaterie where you want to relax and hang around.

Added to that, the huge, bare pine table was partitioned just inches from the adjacent one and the two sisters sat at it. (I heard far too much detail of how their cousin had embarrassed herself in the steam room on a recent spa break to North Yorkshire.)

What was impressive was the spectacular menu – more than 100 ‘Authentic Beijing and Sichuan’ dishes to choose from.

Among the opening pages were the set banquets, which rather than being given the uninspiring names ‘A to C’ as is customary, were called First Date, Courtship and True Love. 

First Date should have gone a little easier on the garlic and morsels of food that you might get stuck in your teeth, while True Love should be more of a ‘You know what sort of a greedy pig I can be and I’m past trying to impress you’ selection.

In practise, they were both a safe mix of predictable Chinese favourites.

After a long trawl through the vast varieties, Jessica decided not to join me in the shark’s fin farewell for starters, opting instead for the Beijing dumplings (£4.50), while I excitedly ordered the £15 soup.

Dumplings

A huge plate of dumplings was first to arrive and the mixture of mince, pork, prawn and vegetable were pleasant, if unspectacular.

A good 15 minutes – and two promptings to the waiters – later, a third waitress collected the plate and asked if we were ready for the main courses.

I politely informed her that I hadn’t had my soup but couldn’t help feeling that this was taking the gloss off my mission.

A further 10 minutes later and it finally appeared and it looked as miserable as I was when I saw it.

Tiny slices of fin floated pathetically on top of the brown soup – its gentle taste completely overpowered by the stock-heavy potage.

On the bright side I thought, at least I won’t be condemning any more of the under-threat animals to such a worthless death.

For the main course I opted for the braised pig trotters in hot sauce (£8.80), while Jessica chose the belly pork clay pot (£7.50).

In both, the meat was cooked beautifully. The belly pork was tender and gently melted in the mouth, while the flesh on the trotters fell easily off the bone.

Sadly, all subtlety was left out and the overpowering heat in both dishes was too much to bear.

Still hungry, we decided to order some puddings, though even the waiter advised against it, saying it wasn’t a house speciality.

So I’ll quickly gloss over the rock hard crispy squares and tasteless egg caramel and tell you we beat a hasty exit back to Big Hands.

I didn’t know saving the planet would be quite this hard.

Red Chilli, 403 Oxford Road, Manchester, (0161 273 1288, redchillirestaurant.co.uk)

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