Culture

“I was working 60-70 hours a week, taking a hell of a lot of drugs, not eating a lot and I did that process for 10 years of my life. I suppose to some people I seemed successful because I was always in a new city, in a new venue. I wasn’t though, I was running away. I was hoping that if I changed to a new environment, to a new city, that my reality would change. But it didn’t, because I had these destructive habits that I would take with me.

– Paddy Howley, So Let’s Talk

To the overwhelming majority of hospitality workers, the above quote will, unfortunately, feel all too familiar, whether it applies directly to them or one (or several) of their friends and colleagues. As passionately as many champion the industry, there is also the growing recognition that an overhaul in its approach to mental health and wellness is drastically needed.

Publicly, Covid has pummelled restaurants, bars and pubs in a manner akin to Ivan Drago slaughtering Apollo Creed in the opening round of Rocky IV. The takings that have been lost coupled with the lack of monetary support from government an obvious, non-stop battering played out before a nation’s very eyes in the news and on social media. Yet behind the scenes, the emotional drain has been exacerbated beyond breaking point, with already very fragile workers leaving the industry in droves, unable to withstand another series of body blows in a sector that, even during the golden periods, demands an ungodly amount from those who serve within it.

Paddy Howley spent 16 years in hospitality, from glass collecting in a working men’s club in his hometown of Burnley to successfully managing and consulting for a number of venues across the country. His expertise was constantly in high demand and he earned well because of it. Yet his earnings brought him no stability or security. Quite the opposite, in fact. Instead Paddy bounced between rented accommodations while using his pay packets to finance the purchase of the substances that fuelled every single one of his 12-16 hour shifts. Unsurprisingly, it was not a lifestyle built for longevity.

Tucked into a booth at the rear of Albert Schloss’ sprawling, Bavarian influenced beer hall, Paddy is accompanied by documents on his screen and on the table in front of him. He sips a ruby red mocktail and, though his current workload is clearly still mountainous, it is one that evidently provides him with a great deal more contentment than his decade-and-a-half in the trade. This is because his work now is helping those within the industry, the people he once worked with. The people he once was.

Just over two years ago, Paddy founded So Let’s Talk, an organisation ‘on a mission to 86 the silence’ because, while giant strides are being made to shine a light on mental health issues within society and cease the stigma surrounding them, the same advances have not been replicated within hospitality, where heads are resolutely kept down, wary of upsetting the combustible head chef or exhaustively figuring out ways to keep the creditors from the door. It is a work-life imbalance Paddy knows all too well.

“I was given the opportunity to be a general manager when I was 20,21,” Paddy recalls, shooting an almost painful smile across his face as he delves back to the formative days of what would become a decade long cycle of almost catastrophic excess. “It was at Posh nightclub in Burnley and I had no real right to be in that position at that point in time. I was way too young. And with that job came some really destructive habits. My recreational drug use from a young age was through the roof. I had a really unhealthy relationship with alcohol.

“The most destructive thing was, if I wasn’t in work serving drinks, I was outside of work spending more money than I had on drink and drugs with people who do the same thing for a living. I used to see the industry as a lifestyle, not a job. I used to introduce myself as my title, so I’d be like ‘I’m Paddy the GM of…’ and I had zero disconnect from my job with my real life.“

After almost 10 years of drinking, smoking and snorting his way across a variety of North West establishments, Paddy found himself back home in Burnley, physically and emotionally at odds with the apparent success he was supposed to be luxuriating in.

“Towards the back end of 2019 is how the catalyst of So Let’s Talk came about. I got the opportunity to work at a pop-up bar in Manchester over the Christmas period. They asked me to come in as a consultant, write a cocktail menu, train the team, take as much money as I physically could. Then they go ‘right, here’s five AFD’s (All Fucking Day) back-to-back’, so that’s five 16 hour shifts back-to-back. But instead of going home after those, I’d go out, stick loads of drugs up my nose, drink far too much alcohol and turn up to my shift like nothing had happened. That was normal for me. Nobody recognised that I wasn’t compos mentis. Not one person noticed that I was in a real dark stage at that point in time. After those five days I went home to my mum’s spare room, I was in between rented accommodation and, for the first time in my life, I had suicidal ideations.

“I checked my salary for the year. I worked out I’d spent 65% of my salary on drugs and alcohol. I’d flirted with the idea of leaving the trade before but always come back and this time I was like ‘shit, I need to leave’. So I left. I went to an AA meeting, worked out it was an unhealthy relationship to alcohol and drugs and not an addiction and I went sober.“

That Paddy’s lifestyle is one that has become cliché for the industry is a damning indictment of the entire sector. The ‘burning the candle at both ends’ mentality has been treated as the norm within the restaurant business for far too long. Coupled with zero hour contracts and decision makers who care only about bottom lines rather than the people who’s graft contributes to the numbers atop those lines, it’s no wonder why half of hospitality workers suffer from some form of mental health issue (the statistic was one in three at the beginning of the pandemic, according to numbers Paddy himself provides me with).

The lack of help that was available lit a fire within Paddy that led to the foundation of SLT.

“The conversation around mental health didn’t exist. Until around a year or 18 months ago did I start talking to businesses who had a budget for health and wellbeing. It was never a fucking thing before. Also now we’ve got a whole new generation of hospitality professionals who are asking questions during the interview process, about work-life balance, what the benefit structure looks like, is there inclusivity and diversity within the business? None of this existed until very recently.

“I got paid in a brown envelope every week and spent it all on drugs and alcohol. So the change has been huge but for me what is blatantly obvious is there was a lack of education or care. We would wear badges of honour for our destructive habits. A lot of it was celebrated. It’s not cool and it’s not sustainable to be competing over how many hours a week you’ve worked. If you drunk a bottle of tequila and still turned up for your open, you were a trooper. Even the language, ‘you’re a trooper’, is used so heavily within the industry. You’re not going to fucking war, you’re serving food and drinks.“

– Paddy Howley

But even with the conversation around mental wellbeing becoming more prominent between the workforce and their bosses, a hair raising February exposé published by The Mill, about the alleged behaviour of Mana’s Michelin Star adorned leader Simon Martin laid bare a workplace culture so inhumanely toxic (liquid nitrogen laced assaults and live animal beheadings were just a couple of the disturbing allegations to emerge from the account) that the systemic barbarism of the professional kitchen that has been allowed to flourish for generations was finally discussed in the open to such a serious extent that it felt impossible to ignore any longer.

In a world where customers are more inclined to avoid establishments where bullying and harassment cultures are fostered and staff are mistreated with regards to pay, perks and hours, the disconnect between owners/investors and those on the ground is in dire need of recalibration. Not to mention how the past 24 months has seen staff leave the industry in droves, with little desire to return once restrictions were lifted and businesses reopened. It is a dilemma Paddy is keen to rectify.

“We have much more conscious consumerism nowadays. People will read that article about Mana and not go and eat there. I wouldn’t.

“The long term goal for So Let’s Talk is to create a health and wellbeing rating for the industry, like the food hygiene rating. It’s one of the biggest things that we’re looking at creating. The reason being is that recruitment is such a challenge in the industry at the moment. It’s not because no one wants to work in hospitality, it’s because they don’t want to work in the hospitality industry that we’ve created. They don’t want the archaic styles of the past.

– Paddy Howley

“People during lockdown had a chance to connect with themselves again and they were saying ‘I’ve not read a book in seven years’ or ‘I’ve not had a home cooked meal in three months’ because of working in the industry. So they’ve thought about how they can earn the same money but have the free time and they’ve gone ‘well I’ll go work in a different industry’

“Deloitte came out with a study that revealed that for every £1 you invest in health and wellbeing you receive on average £5 on your bottom line. It’s so obvious. But then you look at staff turnover and it’s 100% plus in so many venues. How is that a viable business model nowadays?“

Of course, with more progressive and open minded individuals owning and operating start ups and independent venues across the city there are plenty of places where the wellness of workers is a priority rather than a bonus. Living wage offerings are, thankfully, becoming more commonplace when job vacancies are shared. There are owners who actively take an interest in the people they employ to represent and better their businesses. But as Paddy tells me, generational gaps still exist and are still far too intrinsically embossed into the fabric of the trade.

“It’s wild to me that it’s 2022 and we’re still having the same conversation about whether happy and healthy people are more profitable.

– Paddy Howley

“It’s challenging at times because generations blame each other and a lot of the business owners and board members in hospitality are white, male boomers and if they’re making decisions about a business that is full of Gen Z’s and Gen Y’s it’s dangerous, because the boomers are saying the Gen Z’s and Y’s are entitled snowflakes who have never done a hard day’s work in their life and then the other way is the young workers, who are making the money and working at a grassroots level are calling the owners bigots who have ruined the environment and the economy. 

“So when you have a blame culture like that, no conversation happens and when a decision is made, it’s the people at the top deciding what they think their team needs. Some businesses go a step further and initiate the conversation but then only listen to reply not to understand.

“Are you giving your teams what they need or what you think they need?

– Paddy Howley

“One of the questions we ask bosses now is ‘what’s your email culture like? Do you receive and reply to emails at 3am? If you do, what does that say to your team? That they always have to be on 24/7? Is it not better for you and your team to create boundaries around your time so they don’t look at you and think that’s what they have to do to get to that position.“

As attempts are made to bring about an understanding between generations there will, of course, be resistance from some, unwilling to believe that the problems that have plagued the past are actually of any genuine significance. The macho culture of kitchens and bars, where aggressively charged attitudes and military level discipline tag teams with debilitating substance abuse and alcohol addiction, is a needless charade that has been far too damaging for far too long. Talented chefs, bakers, bartenders and waiting staff have seen anxieties and depression accelerated towards headfirst crashes from which some, tragically, never recover.

The hospitality industry thrives on hard work, of course. And even in the most serene of destinations, there are going to be shifts that leave staff stressed, cursing those ignorant guests or perhaps a colleague who’s ideas have clashed with their own. Nowhere can be a utopia 100 percent of the time. Yet conflict resolution and peace making processes can be positioned in the foreground more, rather than a last resort, as has so often been the case in the past, if they’ve even been utilised at all.

The cyclical nature of the volatile head chef ideology must, once and for all, be 86’d. Making your staff genuinely fearful for every shift renders any gastronomic ingenuity you may produce meaningless. What good is a scared shitless workforce? As an owner or investor, should you not be looking beyond the bottom line and the sparkling reviews and maybe understand what could be improved at a human level rather than a business one? Because at some point, that crash is coming. In some cases, maybe it isn’t for a few years, maybe that mind boggling level of staff turnover keeps the wheels spinning just enough to ensure it is easy to ignore just why it is that no fucker wishes to remain in your employ for much longer than a few months. But in the modern day, with so many establishments crumbling and so many more heartbroken ex-chefs wanting their horror stories to be heard, the crash is as habitual as the behaviour as those who have caused it.

“We now work with senior management teams within businesses” Paddy reveals, digging into the SLT work that has been so well received by almost 12,000 hospitality staff over the last two years. “We have conversations with them about what it takes to be a healthy business and what areas they might be lacking in, whether it be their team’s health or the environmental health of a business or anything like that. We educate and then with that education we have a session where we sit down with the decision makers in a company and tear apart their operations and put them back together in a healthy way, then the change is created from there. 

“I remember after I put the post on the Manchester Bars page, we had a meeting at Speak In Code where I just said ‘what are we gonna do? How are we going to change things?’ And it all came back to education. And that made me shiver, because I thought, if I’m a hungover, overworked, undernourished, underpaid, undervalued hospitality worker, I’m not gonna want to sit and listen to some ‘expert’ who’s never fucking worked in the industry talk to me about health and wellbeing. I’d just tell him to do one.

“What we did is, we said right, if we’re gonna do this, we’re gonna do it properly and we’re gonna work with experts in their fields, but then we’re gonna take that information and we’ll evolve it to make it make sense to the industry, then our team is going to deliver it from a position of experience. So from an idea in my mum’s spare room, we’re now at a point where we’re helping thousands of people within hospitality.“

Given the client list that SLT have now amassed (Common and their various associated venues, Mowgli, Soho House, The Alchemist and BrewDog are among those who have enlisted their services already) thanks to their education, events and sessions tailored around everything from weekly classes and workshops focused on financial and nutritional wellbeing to regular yoga sessions and live workouts, it would appear Paddy and his team have gone and done things properly as they initially set out to two years ago.

As Manchester moves into a post-covid period of further regeneration, with an increasing number of major establishments looking to make the city their home in the North, the number of new jobs created off the back of these openings will also mean more potential for cut throat atmospheres, with tens of millions of pounds being poured into new venues outside of London comfort zones and a soaring demand for instant success. Such investment in the city could, and hopefully should keep Paddy and his team busy for the foreseeable.

To find out more about So Let’s Talk and the incredible work and campaigns they’ve produced over the last two years, visit their website

“The old Jimmy’s was held together with spit and sellotape. There’s no way we could have done what we’re doing now at the old Jimmy’s.” It’s hard to disagree with George Craig, as he reminisces over the previous six lager stained, sticky floored years between Newton Street and Ancoats. Taking in an early afternoon IPA as the sun threatens to crack through the front door of Jimmy’s Vol.II on Blossom Street, there is an unmistakable sophomoric vibe about the recent addition to Cutting Room Square. Thankfully, it’s more ‘Favourite Worst Nightmare’ than ‘Second Coming’.

Like any great second album, there is more than a hint of maturity entrenched in the new Jimmy’s, yet clearly enough mischief to maintain the excitement associated with their Northern Quarter debut. George himself, the frontman for brand and marketing as well as Jimmy’s food operations, is now 31, married and about to celebrate his daughter’s first birthday. It’s quite the paradigm shift from life circa 2016-19. As the gentle opening licks of the Stones’ ‘Wild Horses’ slumbers out of the speakers, George explains to me how food is now his focus, where once it was an unfathomable addition to the offerings on Newton Street.

“When we were in the Northern Quarter, we just weren’t set up to be a place that did food. We were somewhere you went to watch bands and get lairy. I don’t think anyone would have wanted to eat in that fucking basement.”

Jimmy’s past as a sweat soaked, subterranean den of debauchery doesn’t exactly inspire memories of craving hunks of smoked brisket or fresh lobster tails delicately dotted with parmesan butter. In fact, if memory serves correct, food was often expelled rather than digested at the neon clad Newton Street dive, which was grimly part of its charm.

Two years on from Jimmy’s undignified eviction from Newton Street (in favour of a *let’s out a prolonged, exhausted sigh,* fucking office development) the red bricked Blossom Street spot feels like a natural evolution, even if it may not have been envisaged in the initial masterplan for the Manchester branch (sites in Liverpool and York have also been minted in the intervening six years).

“I was devastated when we were booted out,” laments George over the late 2019 shunting, which was further exacerbated by, y’know, that massive fucking global pandemic that decided to drop at the beginning of 2020.

“There really wasn’t a plan if this place hadn’t come up. We’ve obviously had the dark kitchen doing Deliveroos during Covid, but a new Jimmy’s almost didn’t happen. And even after reopening, we had that dreadful fucking Christmas and January’s always quiet as well, but now it feels like we’re finally starting to get somewhere again.”

Fortunately, a Cutting Room Square vacancy popped up courtesy of Matt Bambroffe, who played five-a-side with George’s older brother, Jimmy (of Jimmy’s!) and was also a family friend of George’s wife, Megan. Neighbouring with Rudy’s, the Jane Eyre and Edinburgh Castle among others, it almost feels as though 2019’s eviction was a blessing in disguise, with the new digs firmly cemented within Manchester’s brightest, burgeoning neighbourhood. Although that’s not to say it hasn’t still presented plenty of its own problems over the last few months.

“We’ve not got the late license like we had at the old Jimmy’s, and we’ve not got the live music license, even though we have a basement space downstairs which is ideal for it. So that’s something that we want to change eventually. Also you get things like residents in some of the flats surrounding us complaining. We had one complaint about food smells coming out of the building when we weren’t even open, so there’s shit like that to deal with, but y’know, we’re really happy here and looking forward to properly kicking on with the food, which I’m really excited about.”

The food is George’s passion and is one that was established long before his family broke ground on Jimmy’s six years ago. As the lead singer of indie outfit One Night Only, George, along with brother and bandmate Jimmy (of Jimmy’s!) toured the world and, though the traditional assumption of a touring band’s diet is one that consists of nothing more than petrol station Ginsters, Red Stripe and Jack Daniels, the Craig lads were exposed to some of the globe’s greatest culinary experiences and, crucially, some of the world’s best barbecue in the American south, which served as a transformative experience for George.

“We were being taken out to all these mad places by Universal in every city we went to, but it was in the Deep South and in Texas where the barbecue really blew us away. We hit up all the famous spots, like Franklin barbecue in Austin and I’ve taken all that and tried to implement it in my own way here, but with our own sort of spin that makes it unique to Jimmy’s.

“I’d say it’s glam rock BBQ. That’s how I’d describe the Jimmy’s menu. We’ve got a dish called cock fingers on there and a hot dog called the King Dong, so it’s that sleazy sort of rock and roll vibe from the ’70s, which is the type of music I’m into combined with the food that I love. I just wanted to have fun with the menu, as you can with a lot of the names on there.”

The ‘Meatwood Mac’, ‘Springsteen Rolls’, ‘Brisket Case’ and ‘Plantera’ are just a few of the plates that are being slung from the Jimmy’s kitchen and form a menu that has been a real labour of love for George, who has gone from hosting the likes of Sam Fender, Bill Ryder-Jones, Kate Nash and Red Rum Club to obsessing over every minute detail of a barbecue offering that he can confidently compare to the joints he immersed himself in during the heady days on the road.

It is harking back to the early days of Jimmy’s that shift into focus just how vital a venue it felt like at the time. Springing into action in 2016, it suddenly became a go-to for the post-midnight crowd who intended on crashing into the weekend amid in as chaotic a fashion as possible. It was also a venue that helped break in acts like the aforementioned Fender. In a city already swamped with stages on which to perform, it could have become just another pretender, yet Jimmy’s thrived and intertwined itself into the fabric of the live music scene in Manchester. The experience the Craig brothers brought from their longstanding ties to the music industry, having both been signed to Universal since their early teens, was evident in their execution of everything within Jimmy’s four walls. There were no hang ups on tired Mancunian tropes, but instead a raw and ready atmosphere that they knew would resonate with the city’s gig goers.

Behind the scenes, the operation is a family affair, with George and Jimmy’s (of Jimmy’s!) mum, Louise and Dad, Richard, helping out with food development, site styling and company administration. Such a tight knit nature has undoubtedly help keep the Manchester branch afloat during the treacherous waters it encountered over the last two years.

“I think some people had this impression that we had a bottomless pit of cash, which was simply not true. It’s been a real struggle,” explains George, clearly relieved that the navigation of Jimmy’s is finally back on course, “We’ve had some absolute nightmares to deal with but I think being a family business has definitely made things that bit easier. Obviously it’s still really hard a lot of the time, but we’re all looking out for each other, it’s not like we’re dealing with a load of investors or anything like that where you’ve got people to answer to who could make life even more difficult for you. Any problems we have with Jimmy’s just get dealt with between us and we carry on.”

The new Jimmy’s still possesses a lot of the same attitude as the old Northern Quarter haunt. The neon signs still adorn the walls, the signature lightning bolt present on every glass. There’s the comforting blend of Americana dive bar and local warmth, like you’ll be greeted with your regular order upon arrival but also have someone taking the piss out of your trainers. Which is exactly what you should want from any establishment worth it’s salt, to be honest.

A surrounding Ancoats area may come across a tad more low key than Newton Street. Not as rough-and-ready, more marina than mucky piss up, but it may be the coming-of-age work that Jimmy’s needed in it’s discography to properly ingratiate itself into the pantheon of iconic music venues in Manchester. With a sound proofed basement just crying out for bands to grace it’s stage, the spirit of the old Jimmy’s could soon be allowed to flourish once again, only this time with something to soak up the suds.

Until then, it’s barbecue, brunch and blues and a return to whatever normalcy might end up being after a tumultuous two years. Like all rock-and-roll greats, Jimmy’s is evolving and, while we eagerly anticipate the ‘weird, experimental psychedelia’ phase of whatever their third incarnation may bring somewhere down the line, we should all be very excited for the Ancoats Anthology because, if the early days of their new barbecue menu is anything to go by, it’s set to churn out a series of bangers.

“All the wars that were won and lost, 

Somehow don’t seem to matter very much anymore. “

‘Living on a Thin Line’ – The Kinks

He may have penned it 36 years ago, but Dave Davies’ words on the above 1985 classic feel more pertinent than ever as the British hospitality industry prepares to enter the bleakest of mid-winters.

Taken from The Kinks’ 1985 ‘Word of Mouth’ album, ‘Living on a Thin Line’ not only laments a lost identity and yearning for ‘days of old’, but also directs an industrial amount of vitriol and disdain towards British politicians which, it’s safe to say, is a set of emotions we can all share wholeheartedly right now.

Since March 2020, restaurants, bars, pubs and cafes across Manchester have been mercilessly sieged not only by Covid-19, but also their own government, who’s overwhelming incompetence and blatant treachery has betrayed every single person working in hospitality, costing countless people their livelihoods, as well as an exhausting barrage of mental health issues that present us with another crisis on top of what is already currently being endured.

Those on the frontline for the last 20 months have been battered and bruised by the total lack of support from Downing Street, who have consistently lurched from one indecision to another, doing everything they can to withhold adequate resources from thousands of desperate business owners and their staff.

With every small victory, like last summer’s reopenings and ‘Freedom Day’ this past July, there was always that glimmer of hope that a corner MIGHT had been turned. That a rampant vaccination programme would allow a more permanent return to full, restriction free trading and, should any measures need to be reintroduced, that they would be done so responsibly with lessons learned from previous debacles.

Only Boris Johnson and Rishi Sunak’s productivity levels only seem to spike when there’s a Cobra meeting that needs avoiding, an illegal, lockdown breaking party or cheese and wine laden ‘work meeting’ that needs attending or, of course, if foreign healthcare bosses register an interest in buying parts of the NHS. If you’re a restaurant or bar owner unsure as to whether you can open tomorrow or, more likely, you’re relying on social media leaks to be drip fed the government’s impending, weeks too late plans, then chances are your plight is not appearing near the top of any agendas being seriously discussed inside number 10.

Which leaves Manchester’s hospitality scene in a current state of despair and near disrepair. Yesterday afternoon, it was announced that £1bn of funding is being granted to British hospitality venues affected by Omicron. It is hardly news that inspires longterm confidence, mainly because the figures announced (a maximum of £6,000 per venue) won’t even come close to covering the cost of the damage that has already been done and is still yet to be done. As Manchester’s Night Time Economy Adviser Sacha Lord tweeted shortly after the announcement, “This isn’t a package. It’s an insult.” This path has been miserably trodden several times before. Hospitality can only take so many hits before venues retreat to the trenches forever, unable to withstand constant assaults from new variants and despicable, morally bankrupt millionaires with more power than brain cells or integrity.

It’s enough to make you wonder if the back breaking efforts that have been made by so many across Greater Manchester (and beyond) have been worth it? Is this fight nothing more than Homer Simpson valiantly getting his head caved in by Drederick Tatum, unaware that the concussion inducing haymakers are never going to relent, each one thundering a destructive blow that shifts the bout one step closer to finality.

“What we couldn’t do, what we wouldn’t do, 
It’s a crime, but does it matter? 
Does it matter much, does it matter much to you? 
Does it ever really matter? 
Yes, it really, really matters. “

With revelations of the government’s rampant criminality coming to light with increasing fervour over the past couple of weeks, the groaning scale of Johnson and co’s duplicity has rightfully enraged the public and made fools out of us all. For bar staff, waiters, chefs, glass collectors, suppliers, cleaners, general managers and everyone in between, it wasn’t so much a slap in the face as it was an entitled mouthful of gob being callously spat by an uncaring, self serving con artist.

Establishments had to evolve and reinvent themselves multiple times over during the multitude of lockdowns inflicted upon them over the past two years. Whether it be for takeaway services or reconfiguring socially distanced dining areas. Many had to morph into al fresco offerings, forking out for extra furniture while only able to serve somewhere in the region of 30-50% of their usual covers. Rules were resolutely adhered to, because what other options were there? As it happens, offering to cater one of the seemingly endless Downing Street do’s could have probably earned any number of restaurants a small fortune.

And now, here we are. A repeat of early March 2020. The public being encouraged to stay home to help curb the spread of Omicron without any actual solutions to keep businesses afloat. Oh, apart from the grant of ‘up to £6,000’. A flippant, token gesture that still does nothing to address the seismic losses that will be made when venues are forced outside for a couple of weeks during the impending ‘circuit breaker’ slap bang in the middle of the two coldest months of the year. Cheers Rishi. Nice one, Boris. Nothing beats sharing a meal with a mate or loved one while feeling like you’re sat on the side of the fucking Eiger. We’d be better served letting that mad fucking singing reindeer head from the Christmas Markets pass parliamentary rulings related to hospitality than the people currently in charge.

“It’s been soul destroying, incredibly stressful and hugely worrying,” says Nick De Sousa, owner of Northern Quarter’s Tariff and Dale and Chorlton’s Lead Station, when I ask him how the last couple of weeks have been on him and his staff across the two sites.

“The teams have been affected. They want to go home for Christmas and are frightened of isolating alone. No support on the horizon means that there is uncertainty about the business and everyone’s future. They have been so resilient in the face of all this, they’re incredible and I am so proud of every one of them. They’ve pulled together and reflected our culture and values.”

– Nick De Sousa

This same whirlwind of emotions has been mirrored over at Common and Nell’s Pizza, with the NQ and Kampus residents feeling the sting of a depleted city centre.

“I’ve veered from despair, to determined, to despondent through to light headed hysteria about 12 times already this week” reveals owner Jonny Heyes. “We’ve probably taken around 50% of what we would’ve hoped. But ultimately we just need to crack on.”

And what of the potential two week ‘circuit breaker’ on the horizon, tentatively scheduled for 28th December, if yet more leaks from parliament are to be believed?

“I’ve pretty much stopped preparing for this stuff” shares Jonny, “you tend to spend lots of time doing stuff which quickly becomes completely irrelevant. So we’re just focusing on trading through to Christmas and then we’ll just roll with the punches.”

“The Lack of clarity is baffling, this is the dangerous part for us,” answers Nick. “They need to form policies which actually work with the industry they’re aimed at. Outdoor trade in January? OK then! Waste of time.”

The mood isn’t exactly any merrier over at Mecanica, either. The ‘gimmick free’ Swan Street cocktail bar was hit with a deluge of cancellations over the weekend and is likewise facing an uncertain close to 2021, as General Manager Phillip Aldridge tells me.

“The real issue for me is the lack of forewarning. Letting us all order up for a big Christmas only to take it away last minute just means we’re left with costs to pay without any way of clawing it back.

“And now if we go into lockdown we’re left with an excess of stock that we can’t shift, which is obviously a massive dent in cash flow. Just make up your mind early and stick to it so people can actually plan what they’re doing, rather than just dithering and saying yes then saying no last minute.

“Pile on top of that you’ve got the mental anguish of the staff having to work knowing everything they touch could ruin their Christmas. Masking up because they’d like to spend Christmas with their family instead of in isolation.

– Phillip Aldridge

“I need to place orders today, do I buy champagne for New Year’s Eve or not? Are we going to be open? Who knows? It’s only 10 days away.”

Another newcomer, Delhi House Cafe in the Corn Exchange, has similarly been left floundering through the festive season, with Managing Director Sherry Lamba explaining how ‘disheartening’ this most recent ordeal has been.

“We opened in August last year which was a brave/stupid move. Opening between the lockdowns wasn’t easy. We tried our best and reached a point where we thought we’d got it.  But after the recent government announcements our bookings last week dropped by 70%, which was a big, big hit, especially when we were hoping for our first Christmas to be a good one. It all fell apart in a matter of two days.

“We are different from any other Indian restaurants in town, trying to promote something very unique. Delhi House Cafe is born in Manchester, trying to give the people of this great city the most authentic Indian experience.  Just when the crowd was getting what we are all about this hit us. It’s so disheartening.”

Disheartening almost feels too mild a word when you begin to process not only the scale of monetary losses, but also the physical and mental anguish that those within the industry are being subjected to at one of the most traditionally stressful periods of the year. Eunji, owner of the astonishingly good and incredibly named Thirsty Korean in Chorlton, emphasised the emotional strain December’s downturn has had on her and her staff.

“Since Plan B has been applied, we’ve had cancellations every day. As soon as we open, the phones are ringing just for people to cancel their reservations. There was literally two tables during prime time on Friday and Saturday.

– Eunji

“Our revenue has been 50% down on the previous two months. Mentally if I say honestly how it has been affecting me, I felt like I was a failure running a business even though I did everything I could. Two weeks ago on Sunday I put my staff on from five o’ clock until closing. The staff closed the venue 90 minutes earlier than closing time and said to me that they had no customers. They felt wrong staying open even though they needed the hours to make money. We try hard to stick together not only in business but as friends, as it is the loneliest months we are going through.

“All of our stock is miserably full, as I was ready to be busy in December. I have no idea what to do with it all if we get locked down. At the moment opening the venue is more expensive than closing the venue and it hurts not being able to guarantee them that many hours so close to Christmas. It’s horrible.“

The toll that is being taken on hospitality workers is relentless. The life altering circumstances that have been thrust upon them ignored by those in power, unaware of what an actual day’s work feels like. As it transpires, when you and your mates are sitting on a ‘weekly big shop at Fortnum and Mason’ level of wealth, you tend to turn a blind eye to the suffering of those who make your privileged existence possible in the first place. Who knew?

Those who toil, living hand-to-mouth on an ever decreasing collection of tips to supplement their disappearing hours from the rota, are precisely the people who enable communities and cities to thrive. The delirious masses pouring out of bars in Ancoats, Stevenson Square, Canal Street and Oxford Road are the result of innumerable hours of graft put in by the staff serving them and cleaning up after them, generating a thriving economy that provides work for thousands more desperate workers, all waiting in the wings to contribute, to perhaps build their own businesses, carving out their own corner of the city to make a name for themselves. These people build cities.

The likes of Night and Day, The Castle Hotel, The Crown and Kettle, Temple Bar, Corbieres – all historic venues that have provided a cavalcade of timeless, endearing memories. Refuge, Kala Bistro, The Creameries, Schofields, Sugo, Tokyo Ramen – newcomers over the last few years who have ingrained themselves into the brickwork of the city, immediately feeling at home. These are the venues we cannot go without. They are a magic Manchester cannot replicate if they were to shutter because there is simply not enough money to staff them any longer. Yet, along with countless other venues, they are being ripped apart by a deplorable level of cowardice from the people who are supposed to protect them. And those who are now wondering how many more times they might clock in and out are suffering much more than merely in the pocket. They are suffering mentally. If Boris Johnson is foreshadowing a ‘tidal wave’ of Omicron hitting the British Isles, then the mental health crisis accompanying it is a tsunami so monstrous it may never be recovered from unless proper help is invested in and invested in immediately.

And this is an area Paddy Howley, who heads up So Let’s Talk, a group who specialise in being mental health advocates for the hospitality industry, knows all too well.

‘’One in two hospitality professionals either have or are experiencing ill mental health whilst working in hospitality,” Paddy explains to me. “Scary, isn’t it? What’s scarier the fact that this stat was released earlier this year and with the current lack of compassion and blatant disregard for the hospitality industry that the Government has shown its set to get worse before it gets better.

“The lack of clarity and support is crippling our beloved industry. The team at So Lets Talk spend our days running sessions on mental, physical and financial health to the people within hospitality. We talk to hospitality business owners and teams in Manchester daily and the feeling of uncertainty has never been stronger than it is now.

“Mass cancellations, people not wanting to work in hospitality and team members having to isolate means that businesses are forced to close early or ride the storm once again and hope for some support in the future.We’re hoping Rishi realises that the VAT on £0 is £0. If the government doesn’t act quick the fifth largest industry in the UK will never be the same again.

“We want to let everyone know that SLT are here for you now and always. Please don’t hesitate to reach out for support.”

“Living on a thin line, 
Tell me now, what are we supposed to do? “

As Dave Davies’ words from 36 years ago ruminate a little more, the question remains. What are we supposed to do? What is six grand supposed to do in the long run? What is abject government ignorance going to achieve other than to leave the hospitality industry in tatters? A headline grabbing figure of £1bn in grants might sound like an eye watering amount on paper, but it’s merely a drop in the ocean.

There needs to be clarity. There needs to be actual, proper support. There needs to be understanding. Without any of this, we could be looking at an even bleaker picture come Christmas 2022.

Nestled in the Northern Quarter, Ali has been running Little Aladdin since 1997, when the NQ was
a different place entirely.

“I took over the cafe when this area was mainly serving the Asian community working here in the warehouses and factories around NQ, and that’s how these menus came about — Hello there!”

This is pretty much the pace of this whole interview: from his tiny counter in his tiny corner cafe, Ali sings out snatches of his story (ask him about his Bollywood renditions) between greeting and serving customers during the busy lunchtime on which we cleverly decided to schedule this chat. His offering honours the cafe’s past lives, continuing to feed and sustain workers in town with massive portions for small prices.

The majority of his customers are regulars and vegan, but that’s about all they have in common. From students to construction workers, everyone is-without exception-so down for this food.

At the counter, you’re taken through the range of seven (seven!) vegan curries for your Rice+Three, which change daily and is their most popular order. On this particular Tuesday, you could choose from dishes including daal, spinach, cabbage, mixed veg, and cauliflower. Throughout service, I watch as food appears from what seems to be a hole in the floor – and when I can’t take the mystery any more, we’re led downstairs to the kitchen where world’s friendliest chef Mustafa shows us his prep and cooking area – there are chickpeas marinating everywhere, and it smells so good.

“The way we prepare the food is as if we’re cooking it for family at home. There’s nothing artificial, and the flavour is very unique. Because it’s vegan it will always be affordable”. [We digress at this point to talk about the resentment we feel towards establishments that do vegan food for super-expensive]

The food we had was fresh, honest and flavourful. It’s very much a no-frills affair, which is why a falafel and fried tofu wrap (ngl looks basic, tastes amazing – especially with their homemade selection of vegan sauces: chilli, garlic, mayo and mango) won’t even set you back a full fiver. The Biryani though, was notable in that where a traditional Biryani would be layered and cooked with bone-in meat, its absence changes the dish entirely. Expect generous chunks of butternut squash and other nutritious veg in there – you won’t miss the meat, I promise.

Ali’s journey with veganism started with a health concern:
“I was always a big lad, still am. I started cutting down on red meat to lose weight, then stopped eating meat completely. I realised you don’t have to add any animal products to enjoy good food. Then I got really really ‘holy’ on that – started working on myself and also learning from the many different vegan communities in Manchester and their views
— Hi guys, how are you?”

Ali’s is a story of travel, hard work and determination. Like many in the 80s, he emigrated to the UK from Pakistan in 1986, “I came alone and didn’t know anyone. I would say I’m a self-made man; I’ve seen a lot of ups and downs but I worked hard, I feel like my cafe is a community spot serving the many friends I’ve made.”

With a story so familiar and reminiscent of the many people from all over the world, coming to the UK full of hope and carving out an honest existence, it is truly what makes Manchester such a beautifully diverse city. When asked for his parting words of advice for those trying to make it on their own, Ali is a champion of grit and self-motivation:

“Nothing is unachievable – and don’t give up early. Though Covid did affect us big time with offices not being fully open, but people are starting to come back in. Never give up. The most important thing I would like to say is that nothing is going to help or be enjoyable if you don’t have proper good health, and that’s starts with food, the environment, and animal welfare.”

Ali dreams of expanding his tiny cafe, able to then offer even more of his super-popular
vegan food. With his growing die-hard following he has shown that this, like his dreams
before, can be achieved.

Siblings Niti and Nanny brought the Little Yeti Nepalese street food to Chorlton 3 years ago and it’s… not your typical Nepalese restaurant. Walking into the bright, airy interior with exposed brick and winding foliage, the piped in Incubus track from their 2000s Kerrang! Playlist is the cherry on top of this very unique spot. The Little Yeti’s is a story of navigating two identities and cultures, with the outcome being some of the best food I’ve eaten in the most breezy and unpretentious setting.

What can you expect to eat at TLY? Nostalgic tastes and textures dictate the menu here, with each dish’s development starting off with the preface ‘do you remember when we ate this?’ It was a combination of trial and error, and the secret language of siblings; Niti is quick to stress that this is a joint effort of both the family and support from the wider Nepalese community. ‘All of it is personal and reminiscent of things we grew up with.’

It’s important to note that while the items you’ll find on TLY’s menu are recognisable, some sort of wizardry happens in the kitchen that makes these familiar dishes so, so insanely good. Vegans can rejoice, as one whole page of the double-sided menu is veggie-vegan, which is refreshing to see. The Paneer Shashlik sizzles and sings with cumin, garlic and peppers. The vegan Chow Mein, while not a dish I would ever order based on past disappointments, is a total remix job: it’s fresh, flavoursome and has none of that gross oily film that you can get. The creamy lentil daal is hearty; the bhajis here are like no other lover – crispy and light and so effing moreish. There’s not one thing I’ve tried here that wasn’t a pleasant surprise

But if I could sum up the TLY menu for you, it would be one word: Momos. Tbh the momos here – both meat and vegan – need their own appreciation post because I simply can’t do them justice. So generously-filled, with the most pleasingly-chewy pleated dough. Niti tells me that, in true community spirit, she employs a couple of local Nepalese students to pleat the momos on a part- time basis, which definitely beats a paper round.

Back to the momos. Their meat is tenderised old-school, using papaya instead of chemicals so when you bite into a steamed pork momo, the juice just squirts out of the gelatinous, addictively- spicy parcel and – It’s almost pornographic this, sorry.

Now, I’m going to let you in on a secret momo to try: while they have achar (spicy tomatoey sauce that is a staple in Nepal and India) and garlic sauce options for your momos, if you ask for your order to be fried in chilli oil, you’ll be gifted with what I’m going to commit to here as the best momos I’ve ever had. Ever. Look at that chilli glaze. The GLOSS. Order a couple of these because even though they’re generous with the portion-size, you’ll be really sad when it’s over.

Despite neither being a trained chef, Niti and her brother Nanny grew up around the hospitality industry with both parents working in restaurants as waiters and chefs before opening the Gurkha Grill in Didsbury, and the Kantipur in Stockport. They spent a lot of their childhood being looked after by their grandma, and Niti starts to reflect on the external influences and experiences that shaped her formative years as a ‘second-generation’ child of immigrants.

“When you don’t see your parents often and you’re obviously from a different culture that isn’t the one you’re growing up in, It gets a bit confusing, doesn’t it?

It was really, really bad, the abuse we got, and just for being brown”

In order to survive, Niti and Nanny had to assimilate and become the most ‘westernised’ version of themselves – but that’s not without its own repercussions, particularly from the Nepalese community

“We grew up somewhere in-between, not English enough and not Nepalese enough… we found it very difficult to have that positive association with our culture, because for the most part, we were taught that we should be embarrassed about where we come from.”

So, what started to change Niti’s self-perception and helped her to begin to un-do the internalised racism she grew up with? Momos, of course.

‘Somewhere in between all that, I found out about momos. We had momo parties quite often, and I started to realise that I friggin love momos. I mean, I cant. It’s my absolute favourite food, I’ve loved it my entire life… and as I got older I started to realise that I love Nepalese food.

Niti’s journey has made her unapologetic in her dual-identity, with a clear focus on what she wants TLY to be.

“Yeah, you can just love your culture. You can just love whatever the hell you want to love and you can do it in whatever way you want to do it.

I’m not the ‘most Nepalese place in the entire world’. I am who I am and this is what my Nepalese restaurant looks like.”

Right on cue, we hear a lovely bit of JimmyEatWorld as Niti’s complex but all-too-familiar story of straddling two cultures comes together in the eclectic and magical Little Yeti.

The future sounds exciting as Niti’s thinking about expanding and experimenting with new momo fillings and glazes, and I am here. For. it. Can you think of anything better than eating dumplings all day and watching the world go by? No, me neither.