The rise in the quality of Northern Ireland's curry houses has been noticeable in recent months. Is this the result of newly-found competitiveness engendered by the very successful Cobra Irish Curry Awards now entering their fourth year?
I don't want to be the kiss of death for any new restaurant venture but you have to question the wisdom of opening a steak house in Belfast's Cathedral Quarter and only serve beef from Latin America, mussels from Scotland and prawns which never came within 100 miles of an Irish shore.
What have the Ashkenazi Jews ever done for us? Apart from Albert Einstein, Gustav Mahler, Franz Kafka and a hundred thousand more dramatists, business leaders, musicians, scientists, artists and philosophers, they gave us the bagel.
There is a mystery vessel in the docks of Belfast which is slowly emerging as a star attraction. While it still remains a destination for those in the know, its position as one of the great secrets of Belfast is about to be blown out of the water.
Service in restaurants is viewed by too many restaurateurs as ancillary, an add-on, a gap that can be plugged. Server off sick tonight? No worries, just phone somebody to do an extra shift. Sure they'll be glad of the money.
The bish bash bosh of happy men and women cooking in bright steamy kitchens and serving big plates of dirty food in a couple of refurbished 40-foot containers is a uniquely life-affirming and joyful thing. It's a rare sight yet it's going on right under our noses in east Belfast every day.
Newry, the bustling frontier town is all swagger, super-pubs and cross-border Euro-trade. It is the Tijuana of Ireland. Thanks to its position on the north-south axis between Belfast and Dublin it has levels of prosperity most towns across the rest of Ireland deeply envy. What's more, its progressive council is supportive of the arts which means that this is one place whose continuing regeneration is assured.
Lucky Rosettans. Rosetta, the district at the top of the Ormeau Road whose population of scaffolders, bathroom fitters and bookies has moved up to Carryduff making way for broadcasters, lawyers and management consultants, has been transformed into a bijou quartier of tasteful interiors, gravel paths and clipped lawns. The new Rosettans are time-poor. They can afford to eat out and drink but are so busy working and earning all the money, they barely get out at all.
Readers of this column often make road trips to the four corners of Ireland. I know this because they often ask for restaurant recommendations in counties such as Offaly, Tipperary and Cork.
I went to the opening night of Gusto e with the adviser, some months back. I rarely go to openings, because my invitations always get lost in the post. But then I'm not on any lists of desirable guests and because people are afraid of what I might write, I think they rather just leave me out of it.
After months of relentless and merciless bombardment of the social media with a series of short, moody films featuring bearded men in deep concentration using tweezers to compose tiny dishes, a young parkour expert wearing a six-by-nico sweat-top leaping and cartwheeling in slo-mo from Giant's Causeway to Cathedral Quarter, and tantalising glimpses of chef Nico Simeone himself boarding a plane to Aldergrove, anyone paying attention to their Instagram and twitter feeds could not have failed to notice that the great man was preparing to transfer the magic of his Glasgow and Edinburgh restaurants to Belfast.
I've loved Muddler's Club since its inception three years ago. The woody, beardy, creakiness much loved by the hipsterati is coupled to a very real Belfast sense of fast-moving, finger-clicking urban knowhow. Somehow, it manages to be laid back and on fire at the same time. Your comfort and joy come first, this is evident, and front of house staff under the keen eye of manager Barry Fletcher will keep the bustle levels high, moving silently and gracefully around, smiling, serving, advising to make sure you are both comfortable and joyful at all times.
A handsome, Parisian-style brasserie on the Newtownards Road, just on the western edges of Ballyhackamore's pulsating culinary heart, Cyprus Avenue was an instant marketing coup for chef patron Richard McCracken when he first opened in 2017. Everything you could order on a Paris boulevard was available here including croque monsieur, madeleines, plat du jour, wine and good coffee.
Deane's at Queens keeps winning the awards and has been one of the most consistent, high performing restaurants in the Deane portfolio. Nestling in the Queen's Quarter away from the hoi polloi and in the more rarefied atmosphere of College Gardens, this restaurant is a sanctuary for those who like space, a bit of elegance moderne and most significantly the best acoustics of any restaurant in the city.
I had been trying to get to the Angler's Rest by Benone Beach ever since chef Paula McIntyre had sung its praises to me months ago, insisting we must go there for lunch. Many failed attempts to find a mutually convenient date followed and in the end a window during which I could jump in the car and go there alone opened up. Turns out Paula also had a moment the next day, so we were both there, alone, within 24 hours.
Running a restaurant in a theatre, art gallery, museum or concert hall is probably the toughest challenge for any caterer. Opening times, quiet moments during shows, private functions and weird licensing laws here combine to make this form of business as specialist as some of the art displayed and performed in these centres.
You know you're in good hands when Damian Tumilty is in the kitchen. And he's been in a good few kitchens in recent years. He has left indelible marks of quality in each one, lasting long after he has moved on.
American business executive and author Jack Welch advocates change at all times. One of the most innovative business thinkers in the western world, Welch says: "Change before you have to."
Vans, trucks, converted buses and just about anything on wheels big enough to haul a stove, a fridge and an oven are running up and down roads all over the western world, parking in lay-bys, town squares and shopping centres. Street food is now such a big thing that the food itself is the subject of re-interpretation by top chefs.
Holywood is a charming seaside town cut off from the sea by a four-lane bypass and the railway line. It has streets named 'Shore Road' and 'The Esplanade', but to get to the shorefront walk and park, you need to dodge the incoming Bangor Range Rovers, get across the busy transportation routes and leave Holywood, its elegant High Street, ancient priory and remarkable Maypole Bar behind.
One of the side effects of the forthcoming Brexit is the growing number of requests I am receiving from readers for restaurant recommendations in Dublin. More and more of you are realising that you can in fact enjoy a decent weekend in the capital these days for the same money it would cost for a fortnight in Los Angeles.
The independent café phenomenon in Belfast may be the source of irritation to some (honestly, lads, if you're complaining because there are too many coffee shops, you need to throw a bag of slack at yourselves), but to many of us, it is evidence of an ever broadening and growing understanding of the uplifting quality of spending a short time drinking good tea and coffee in an environment which provides some comfort and solace from the busy world.
Hillsborough, Northern Ireland's most desirable village, is a perfect picture postcard kind of place. You might think you were in a small English market town in the Cotswolds such is the tidiness and cleanliness of its hilly little streets, but its heritage is as Irish as Dingle.
What makes a good café? Coffee, definitely; tray bakes, check; servers with aprons, check; comfortable chairs and no draughts by the window, absolute, red-line must-haves. Oh, and early opening for those of us stumbling in to work at stupid o'clock in medical need of flat whites and teas.
Naz Din is as Belfast as Carl Frampton. He has the same charm and wit and he pulls no punches. Good job he is a restaurateur, though, because Naz is more of a lover than a fighter. He won't mind me saying that, because everybody knows how resilient and single-minded he can be. Also, his understanding of hospitality and the need to keep customers happy makes him a natural at this game.
After a year of selfless tasting on your behalf, our reviewer praises the quality and price of the food on offer and picks his favourite places to dine.
The jaws of Christmas provide a good time to look back and reflect on things. For me, this mostly means a reassessment of the restaurant scene in Ireland. Were the bad reviews of 2018 deserved? Were the good reviews merited? And just how hopeless are my predictions? As the singing hotelier Bill Wolsey reminded a live audience recently, I described a recently opened restaurant as a sure-fire success a couple of months before it closed down.
Review my own cooking? I don't need a full page to tell you I'm a hopeless cook. I have a couple of set pieces for family dinners, a firm grasp of the microwave functions and a sensitive if formal approach to setting the table; but my culinary talents are ultimately narrow, limited and unimpressive. The adviser on the other hand is an accomplished cook which makes domestic meal preparations all the more stressful for me.
Restaurant lifespans are measured in months, not years. Along with haulage, fashion and scented candle making, restaurants have the shortest life expectation of any start-up businesses. But those who do survive can look back to see how and why they got through the difficult first year and point to quality of service, food and atmosphere (as well as clever management of tight margins, rates, supplier payments, staff retention and an endless list of other risks and governance issues).
Belfast food and tourism chiefs should be looking over their shoulders because leading the charge in the race to become the north's best foodie destination and closing in fast, is, er, Derry/Londonderry.
Restaurants come in all shapes, sizes, price ranges, styles and quality. Some fixate on the furniture and lighting, others on the quality of service and food while those who focus on the views should arouse suspicion, largely because the view is often used to provide a distraction obscuring the mediocrity elsewhere in the operation.
The internet is having a huge impact on our eating habits. Twenty years ago, if you had nerves of steel or knew a friendly driver, you could phone a Belfast taxi and ask for half a stone of potatoes, a pound of butter and 20 Regal to be delivered. It wasn't a popular service because a lot of drivers would chase you for even asking.
The Ivory is a restaurant perched on the top floor of Belfast's Victoria Square shopping mall. It's been there ever since the mall opened 10 years ago. It occupies a prime site with a view. By any standards, the location gives the restaurant a head start.
It's been six years since I was in CoCo, the Linenhall Street restaurant owned by talented fireball Jason More. He wasn't too happy with the last review and took me to task about it a few months later when we bumped into each other. More recently, I bumped into some of his very charming staff at an event in Dublin. They suggested a return visit would reveal much improvement and new thinking.
The reason for banging on relentlessly about the restaurants of the cordon in recent weeks is because some of the very good ones merit the extra effort by customers to support them. So far, we have visited Pizza Boutique in Castle Street and Mourne Seafood Bar. This week it's the Sagart on Bank Square, next to and part of the popular Havana restaurant.
We become blind to the familiar. No-one had much to say about Primark and the Bank Buildings until they were engulfed in flames which now leave a legacy of economic scorched earth all around them.
Do you complain about poor service or bad food? How bad does it have to be before you'll give an honest answer to: "Everything all right, folks?" I know people who lose the plot entirely when they are served substandard food.
The popularity of Spanish food can be measured by the vast numbers of food pictures posted by holidaymakers on social media. How many more paellas, tortillas, bowls of patatas bravas and gazpacho, tiny tapas of glistening anchovies, shards of burgundy-coloured Iberico ham, creme Catalan and churros beside pots of thick hot chocolate can we take? Loads more! It seems our appetite for these is never going to be sated.
The cordon surrounding Bank Buildings threatens to strangle businesses inside and outside its perimeters. Quality restaurants and cafes have seen business either stop entirely or severely reduced. City Picnic, housed at the back of the former Anderson & McAuley building, behind Zara, has not been able to open its doors for the past month because it is just within the no-go zone behind cordon. Same goes for the McDonald's across the street.
Everybody loves Donegal. Donegal for the holidays, Dublin for the cup. It's the Northern California of Ireland, a place of music, pints, craic agus ceoil, holiday bungalows, cottages and caravans and breath-taking scenery.
Evidence that dirty, street-style hand food, chilli dogs, pulled pork sliders, sloppy Joe pizzas and all the rest of the chin-greasing, finger-sticking, sriracha-saturated, manners-destroying "meals" are gradually being replaced by the return of real, quality food is hard to deny.
Years ago I went to Omagh in search of a decent restaurant but could not find one. There were one or two places to eat but the reviews would not have been great and I didn’t want the first write-up from Omagh to be a bad one. Leaves a sour taste in everybody’s mouth. Better to say nothing at all. Same goes for any town I go to the first time. Don’t want to fall out with the locals on first contact.
I've never met him, but Joe Bailey bought my bike. He told me over the phone that he owned SoZo on the Antrim Road when he answered a Gumtree ad I had posted to sell my bike. The bike - a very sexy little handmade, lime-green Cinello racer - was to be my last.
Ask any wedding planner how easy it is to do their job and they'll look at you sideways. Seriously though, what does it take to order a couple of limos, lunch for 120 and a DJ? Three phone calls, a clip board and an available date, that's what. Or so I thought.
Afternoon tea, once the formal torture you had to endure when visiting elderly aunts, nuns and distant cousins, has made a huge comeback in recent years.
It was bound to happen sooner or later. The two people behind Belfast's greatest competing entertainment empires, both on top of their game, each with a brilliant eye for branding, were bound to come together at some point to create the city's latest phenomenon: a bar and restaurant like no other, hidden away in one of Belfast's most ancient arteries, Joy's Entry.
The food sector is riven with rivalry. Restaurants want you to eat out more, supermarkets want you to buy ingredients and eat in more, take-away distribution services want you to do neither and instead convert your kitchen into a gaming den (Eat! Don't Cook!) and farmers' markets want you to adopt a more conscious way of buying food (keep it local).
Over the last 10 years, my aversion to hotel restaurants has been made clear a number of times. But people have been asking from where this repulsion stems. I can only explain this as the result of a childhood spent fearing the Sunday family outing.
A golden triangle of coffee houses, bars, restaurants and takeaways has emerged in that space between Belfast city centre's Dublin Road and Great Victoria Street.
Restaurants are like mushrooms. They thrive in the dark and are fed all sorts of crap, mostly from critics, diners, suppliers, investors and banks. Unexpectedly, they can also be mobile.
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