The Spinningfields area of Manchester is so sparkly and new that it could easily be mistaken as the set of 1993 SF classic Demolition Man.
I didn’t want to utter how fucking brilliant the glassy, metropolitan utopia looked in case a little nearby machine fined me for verbal violation. This was despite July’s torrential downpour. It was out there, with the parentage, behind the new Armani store and surrounded by other establishments that I also can’t afford, that I stumbled upon Strada. It’s a charming little Italian, with a classically high ceiling and polished marble floors. It was quiet when I went there, aside from the rather jovial infant (and attractive mother) stomping around the walkways.
The food was good, although the shavings of parmesan on my pizza weren’t melted. Are they supposed to be, normally? Maybe not. I also thought the wooden chairs needed a bit of fabric padding. The free WiFi is always good, although in a restaurant isn't websurfing a bit rude?
Stride into Strada. The prices are more modest than the surrounding shops, shall we say.
Footnote- if you like the food and you fancy having a go at it in the kitchen yourself, the site has some interesting little embedded recipe demonstrations from possibly the most Italian man alive.