The Cobbles Tea Room Holmes Chapel

Holmes Chapel. Home of The Cobbles Tea Room and Harry Styles. We'd spent the day in Alsager, I'd seen a sign for Holmes Chapel on  the way there, so on the way back home  I suggested stopping off at HC for a nosey. Nothing to do with looking for any celebrity sightings or anything like that. Just so I can make that clear. We parked up at Holmes Chapel Shopping Precinct, where you will find; a Bargain Booze,  A Post Office and a Sue Ryder charity shop. A short walk from the precinct, slightly off the beaten track you will find Cobbles. In we went. Danny presumptuously ordered two black coffees at the counter and we ambled off and  found a table in the corner. We were in a stone floored lean to area.  I went for a wee. Upon my return to our table Danny excitedly pointed out that Cobbles served Nespresso coffee. He'd seen it on the menu and proceeded to waft the menu in front of my eyes, pointing vigorously,  "Look, Nespresso!". 
As I looked up from the menu I was distracted by an elderly couple struggling to leave their seats. I espied our waitress, clutching our coffees, standing patiently behind the septuagenarians waiting for an opportune moment to get past them.  She made a few tentative attempts  but the elderly pair didn't sense her presence. The waitress threw me a smirk. Finally, the willowy coffee server  reached our table. The couple were struggling with their coats. Suddenly, our peaceful ambiance was shattered by the sound of the old man's walking stick striking the stone slabs with great force. Danny jumped a mile and I nearly threw my coffee in the air. The old man's wife looked over in our direction and apologised on his  behalf. 
Danny asked the waitress which Nespresso pods she'd used for the coffees. She said she'd used the black ones. "ah, the risretto", said Danny. The waitress said she didn't know they were called that. 
I fancied  a scone, I had seen them on the way in and they looked home made. I ordered one.
The radio was on, Little Things by One Direction came on. Obviously Harry Styles was about to walk in; was what my daughter may have been thinking had she been with us. I didn't think that at all. 
There was a man near the counter telling the staff that he remembered when this place first opened;  that he sat outside because the weather was nice. He said he hadn't sat outside for ages because of the weather. This man took ages to leave the premises. Even Danny, Mr Patience Of The Year 2004, seemed slightly irritated by this man's attention seeking loitering.  "Hasn't he been trying to leave for ages?" Finally the man left and we were the remaining customers. 
Danny's final words to me before I got up and paid the bill were, "Harry Styles will have definitely been here, and he's probably had her". (The waitress). 

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The Coffee Pot Abbeyfeale Limerick Ireland

We’d driven off the ferry at Dublin at 12 midday to begin our journey down to Ballinskelligs in South Kerry. After three hours in the car, I had back ache and craved something to eat and drink. We decided to stop at the nearest town, Abbeyfeale. The Coffee Pot looked old fashioned enough to attract our attention. Spotlessly clean (the café), we stood as two aliens in front of the fridge and pondered the wares. The difference between a café here in Ireland and one, say, in Eccles is that in Eccles you’d get a Costco cake, or a chocolate Brownie in a packet, made on a production line in Devon. In Ireland the woman serving you in the café is likely to have made all the cakes you see in front of you. The Coffee Pot’s cheesecake looked delicious, so I ordered us a slice each, with a tea and a coffee. We sat at the nearest booth and all our accoutrements were on our table, including the milk for our drinks. In Eccles you’d be up and down, first for cutlery, then for milk, then for serviettes then for something else you’d forgotten, usually a tea spoon or a sachet of ketchup. Café culture in Ireland caters for your every need; at your own table at the end of your own elbow. The cheesecake did not disappoint. I wolfed mine down and asked our waitress if she had made it, she said she had and I had no reason to disbelieve her. I also asked her if we were still in Limerick, she said we were. Just before we left I nipped to the loo.  They weren’t up to much but then that was hardly surprising as I had accidentally used the Gents.

A week later on our way back to Dublin, we stopped at The Coffee Pot again. I saw a lonesome piece of cheesecake in the same fridge we had stood before the week earlier. It had green mould on it.

Vintage Cafe and Bar Church Street Eccles

I've found a new cafe in Eccles. Danny wanted to go home for a coffee,  I insisted on trying Vintage. On the corner next to Eccles Parish Church, we entered Vintage tentatively and slightly self conscious, unusually unfamiliar with an Eccles eatery.  We were greeted by a lovely vanilla smell and the sound of a man's booming voice, pontificating to his friend about the national minimum wage. A lone woman with a tall latte and us two, swiftly followed by two woman and a little boy and Vintage was bustling. One of the women was pushing the little boy's scooter. I observed from the menu that they were serving ristrettos, bet you cant get one of those within a five mile radius. The woman behind the counter allowed us to peruse the menu and the array of food on display, which consisted of paninis, cookies and muffins. We ordered a Latte, an Americano (black separate cold milk) and one chocolate muffin. We parked our backsides at a table in the window. I heard our loud mouthed pony tailed neighbour, stretched out in his chair, right arm slung back, talking about a Ken Loach documentary. Coffees and comestibles arrived on mis-matched crockery, which I absolutely loved and thought was a touch of genius. I detest uniformity, it puts me in mind of an ikea purgatory. The little boy on the next table was presented with a rather large cookie. His female guardian told him she thought the cookie was the size of the sun. The little boy disagreed. For one he said the sun was outside. Next minute the little lad was writhing in his seat and looked in some discomfort, he'd bit his lip on his first bite of the sun sized cookie.Our drinks were spectacular. I ate one of the brown sugar lumps, couldn't resist. The Ken Loach fan was talking about a time someone had the nerve to push in front of him in a queue. When we'd finished we went to the counter to pay. Three pounds fifty for the lot. After we had thanked and complimented her on the food and drink she asked if we drank beer, she told us they had some Czech ales on sale. she gave us a loyalty card and we were on our way. I would now chose Vintage any day over its nearest rival, Season's; which is about twenty yards away. Whilst Vintage is exceptionally reasonable priced, and  unique Season's is tatty, tawdry and backdated. 

Cafe Moods Salford

Everyone who works within the Salford Quays/ Media City area should come and have at least a coffee in Moods. I've been coming here almost every day for donkeys years. My preferred coffee  of a morning  is a filter coffee, dead cheap, but top quality, at £1.50, freshly made. If it's before 11 I'll usually eat two brown toasts or a toasted teacake.  Of an afternoon I can often be found luxuriating in a latte and chocolate brownie. 

The owner, Jay, prides Cafe  Moods on the quality of the coffee, food and service.  What you won't find in here is; staff asking you to repeat your order three times and still getting it wrong,  shouting of orders, intrusive radio playing too loudly, being told you can only have what's out, rudeness, lack of manners, plastic spoons, or UHT milk.  The informal system of service in moods is simply you place your order at the counter,  pay for it and sit down. The staff will bring everything over to you. If you have the pleasure of being served by the owner, Jay, you will find him to be the  perfect gentleman and an exemplary salesman. 

They are even now  open on a Saturday morning. 

Right Jay, that free chocolate Brownie......

Mazzei Cafe Winter Gardens Blackpool

After I’d dropped the kids off at the Pleasure Beach for the day and  walked along the prom for half an hour,  I dragged my long suffering husband round the back streets of Blackpool looking for a half decent place to rest my weary trotters. I declared we should go to the Winter Gardens. The last time I had been here was in 2004, for a Morrissey concert.  I opened one of the heavy front doors (chivalry is not dead), my husband followed me up the stone steps and we made our way across the concourse towards the doors which were signed “cafe”. We passed an empty bar to our left and a posh looking restaurant to our right before we meandered into Mazzei’s. I counted fifteen customers in an area which could have easily accommodated a couple of hundred people. Behind the counter, a lone, bequiffed member of staff, busying himself at the coffee machine. Me and Danny (aforementioned husband) dithered at the fridges over what we wanted to eat. I fancied a brownie, then I changed my mind and wanted an egg and cress sandwich on brown. I settled upon a scone, Danny had the brownie. Monsieur Pedant said later that the brownie was in fact not a brownie, but a chocolate cake.  In addition I asked for jam and butter with my scone; drinks were two lattes. Quiff man announced the total to be £8.90, then without taking our remittance, he walked away and started preparing my scone. Another male member of staff appeared and asked if we were ok. I told him we were being seen to. Preston Guild came and went and then our coffees and comestibles were ready, we paid and off we went to sit down. A woman and another couple were served after us. The place is immaculately clean, no crumbs, no lingering smells of dishcloths, no loud music, no unwelcome radio stations. We settled at a large round table, kicked off our shoes and took in the ambience and surroundings. I was at peace in Blackpool. Happy as a sandboy. Wonderful food, amazing coffee and scintillating conversation with my gorgeous husband.  As the froth from my latte was sinking into my top lip something cought my eye to the right. A coach party of old people had arrived. To my relief, they were not customers but part of a guided tour of The Winter Gardens. I shushed Danny several times to ear wig their tour guide. I heard, to my absolute pleasure, that the interior plasterwork of this very cafe had been covered up since the 1960s and had recently been found completely intact during the recent multi million pound refurbishment. The plasterwork had been designed by the renowned film set designer, Andrew Mazzei. The guide quickly ushered her charges through to the next room and as I lumped jam on my scone I felt like that Pennine farmer who wouldn’t sell up when the M62 motorway was built. I overheard an elderly lady say that she thought the “plasterwork” curtains were real curtains, she didn’t think anyone would be able to tell they were not real. Danny thought they were real curtains too.

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