48 Hours, 3 Meals, 1 Awkward Solo Reservation: Manchester, We Need to Talk.
🍝 Italiana Fifty Five – The Reservation That Nearly Wasn’t
Wednesday 13th August, Liverpool Road site
Hump Day. A time for winding down, not winding up with unexpected terms and conditions. I had plans to break up my week with a comforting bowl of carbs at Italiana Fifty Five – they’re doing 50% off food throughout August (Sunday to Friday, à la carte only, max 6 people... as if I was bringing my entire personality committee with me).
Solo and smug, I strolled in ready to tuck into my long-lusted Rigatoni Italiana. But first – the curveball: “Do you have a reservation?” Apparently, to get the discount, you have to book. Even if you’re standing right there. Alone. Midweek. With visible hunger in your eyes. So there I was, two feet from the host, awkwardly trying to reserve a table online for one, while pretending this was all totally normal and I definitely didn’t already unbutton my waistcoat in anticipation.
Finally seated, I triumphantly opened the menu - only to realise I was at the Liverpool Road site, and my rigatoni muse lives over at Great Northern. Tragedy. In the blur of losing the love I never met, I panic-ordered the Lumachel Alla Vodka 'Nduja in an attempt to recreate the Pretty in Pink fantasy I’d pre-planned. It was good, spicy and creamy, but the emotional damage of a menu mishap can’t be erased with just a well-executed pasta shell. My loss. I paid (thankfully with discount), and left vowing never to trust a PDF menu again without cross-referencing the fine print.
🍕🍸 House of Social – Where the Influencers Flock & The Drinks Flow (Eventually)
Wednesday 13th August, Press Night Invite
Same day, different drama. From awkward solo dining to a last-minute press night at House of Social. My long-time friend & mentor Dan messaged at 5:17pm asking if I wanted to go to a 6:15pm opening, because his original plus-one had bailed. What a fool. Hump day had officially become Jump Day, and I said yes (obviously) because who turns down a free bar and two food tokens?
It was opening chaos in all its glory. Everyone was filming, everyone was fabulous, and every drink took approximately 16 years to make because each cocktail needed three garnishes and its own TikTok debut. The bar queue was more packed than the Met Gala.
Dan, sensing I was too busy gawking at faces that usually come with their own trending TikTok sound, grabbed us both a slice of Dough Religion’s Swagman pizza (spicy chorizo, nduja – yes, we’re doubling down on nduja today – with candied jalapeno and hot honey). It was a mess, it was marvellous, and it hit exactly where it needed to.
We took a breather outside with the Gaydio crew (whom I had never met, but there was plenty to love), and when we returned for round two at the bar (brave), I diverted for food: Choi Wan was recommended as best bang for my buck – and by “buck” I mean the imaginary one, because this was all gloriously free. I managed to dodge tripods, soft-launch couples, and a rogue ring light to get my hands on their chicken curry with ½ rice, ½ chips. Their order machine was down, so they were scribbling tickets like it was GCSE Food Tech, but the team held it down and the food was excellent. A*. or a 9... or a batman symbol.. whatever grading system we’re using this decade.
Two meals in one day, a free bar, and only one existential crisis? Not bad for a Wednesday.
🍷🇬🇷 Fenix – Where Greek Wine Solves All Life Problems
Thursday 14th August, Lunch Date
The next day, slightly sleep-deprived and maybe 12% cocktail, I made my way to Fenix for a proper grown-up lunch with Eimear – a razor-sharp legal director with Irish charm, hilarious stories, and a suspicious amount of life togetherness. This was only our second time meeting, but we were already navigating the lunch menu like a married couple discussing mortgages.
We opted for the two-chapter lunch menu (£27.50 per person, very fair for the setting), but the first dilemma? Wine. I suggested a Greek bottle, given the setting, and we briefly questioned if the Greeks were actually good at wine. They are. We approved.
To start, I went for the spicy meatballs – slightly on the dry side but heroically rescued by salsa and yoghurt. Eimear had the chicken souvlaki, which was solid, and we soon ditched the whole “separate meals” illusion and committed to a mezze moment. For mains, I had the robata chicken breast (delicious, tender, fancy-feeling), and she went for the rib-eye steak, which screamed power lunch in the best way.
The décor? Instagram goals. The service? A touch on the slower side, but clearly clocked that we were having a deep conversation about childhood, sibling counts and work politics – and respectfully let us vibe.
It’s not the cheapest lunch spot, but the experience, food and setting all justify it. You leave full, floaty, and feeling like you maybe do have your life together after all.
💭 Final Thoughts:
In the space of 48 hours, I experienced the full spectrum of dining in Manchester: solo pasta panic, influencer overload, and a chic catch-up with just the right level of oversharing. Three meals, two types of nduja, one broken order printer, and a new fear of PDF menus.
Would I do it all again? Absolutely. But maybe next time, with a reservation, a map, and a warning label for midweek spontaneity.
Til next time,
Find Dining
📬 Want more food adventures with a side of social awkwardness? Visit Find Dining or follow along on my socials for more noods, nduja and nervous energy.