Well. I had high expections for this meal to be honest. When I was watching 'Great British Menu' some time ago, I enjoyed the food prepared by Nigel Howarth and planned a visit to The 3 Fishes when I came up North next.

On Saturday evening, Blondie's Family, along with an A-Z, made their way from Notlob to Mitton for an expectant feast. What a lovely place it is too. Blondie and her sister ooh and aahed over the houses and after weaving in and out of country lanes, we arrived. First impressions were good - well, if the contents of the car park were anything to go by, I felt I was back in Wilmslow, with what seemed like the entire contents of Mercedes and Porsche garages in attendance.

We parked up our Focus (the Ferrari was being serviced that particular weekend haha) and we were met by a friendly chap that showed us to a spacious table, one that would have easily sat 6. We arrived at 6pm and already the place was full!!!

The menu was given to us and I scanned the wine list first (I seem to take more interest in wine lists these days, than the food menu!!!) The prices of the wine, I thought, were very reasonable (reds priced between 15 and 40 pounds) and they also did my favourite heavy Malbec by the glass :))))) I was suitably impressed.

We decided against ordering starters and plumped for main courses and desserts instead. After much deliberation, I took 'Chargrilled Bowland lamb cutlets, spring cabbage, cauliflower gratin, mint jelly and roast gravy' and a side order of chips in dripping (being a Northerner through and through, I havent managed to break my addiction to chips yet). Blondie's sister and Mum ordered Lancashire hotpot with red cabbage and Dad ordered a burger type contraption with chips and different dips.

My lamb cutlets (specified rare) came as that, but there was no evidence of any 'char' grilling going on. When I grill meat at home, on a griddle pan, rare can be achieved with a griddled effect with no effort as long as the griddle pan is piping hot. If the pan is pratically on fire, you can chargrill any meat and still have the centre rare. No such luck here, I am afraid. But, the lack of charring did not detract from the tenderness and flavour of the lamb, which was spectacular. I've not eaten lamb like this for years. The cauliflower gratin, was like moulton lava and burnt my tongue, but after 10 minutes cooling down, it was just fabulous. The spring cabbage was crisp and the gravy was divine. No packet or stock cube monstrosities here. The mint jelly, which I wholly condemn with lamb due to its strong flavour, was actually rather nice and Blondie was really quite impressed with her dinner.

Mum and Blondie's sister faired the best with their Lancashire Hotpot. Spectacular. Heaven in a pot. Tender chunks of lamb and vegetables under a layer of thinly sliced potatoes. Just beautiful. The red cabbage was also fabulous. Dad's burger was 'very nice' and I tried the piccalli, mustard and tomato ketchup. All home made and all the best I've ever tasted. No Heinz here!

I dont usually 'do' puddings as I have been blessed with no sweet tooth whatsoever, so it is usually left to my Dad and Sister to do the honours with puds. But I relented and ordered strawberries and clotted cream and meringue. Sister ordered lemon meringue pie and Mum ordered some kind of tart (no, not that sort ;) All the puds were fabulous, particularly Sister's which was the nicest, lightest, zingiest, tastiest lemon meringue pie I've ever had.

We all sat there, sighing, aarghing and generally cooing over the place. I was still feeling a piggy so ordered a cheeseboard to share and we all tucked in. Smoked, blue, garlic, crumbly and a few other kinds of cheese were presented alongside thin biscuits. Very nice end to dinner that was.

We stayed for tea and coffee and then we waddled out back to Notlob.

In conclusion, I would go back to this place again in a heartbeat. The service was excellent, plenty of serving staff on that night and the quality of the food and drink was very, very good. Bill for 4 of us came to 100 quid including a tip, which I thought was very reasonable. As we left, the Cheshire type set seem to be pouring through the doors, the skirtlines got shorter, necklines more plunging and handbags bigger. If that isnt your sort of thing, then best eat around 6pm. After having spent a good year in Wilmslow, I try and avoid being anywhere near 'that sort' :)))))

Well. I was intending to have a quiet Sunday, when I got a call from my girlfriend wanting to have lunch with me. I've never been one to turn down an offer of some fabulous grub and wine on a Sunday, so I left 'The Buik' to his chores and suggested we head to the College hotel again. My girlfriend works in HORECA, which is restaurants to us normal folk, and she is always on the lookout for new places to eat/drink in.

We took a table, cosy alcove with some really comfy sofas and we tucked into a variety of typical Dutch treats. Yup. Fried objects galore. Not the normal nasty fried objects that are void of taste and contain suspicious looking ingredients you wouldnt want to dwell on for more than 5 seconds. We ate mini goats cheese balls fried, shrimp croquettes, some honeyed chicken which was beautiful, delicate pieces of smoked ham, mini veal croquettes and a huge piece of Reypenaar cheese complete with guiloteen and rasin bread (which I naturally discarded in disgust - please do not bastardise a perfectly good piece of bread by adding fruit to it!)

Unfortunately, we were served by 'Space Cadets' who had left their brains temporarily at home. Which was fun. And the clientele, was decidely dodgy yesterday. There were a few plastic surgery victims hanging around and a guy that had been on the marching powder, by the looks of his wild eyed gurning.  It was a all a bit much for 4pm on a Sunday afternoon. But, we tucked into the wine with gay abandon and we wobbled home at 9pm thoroughly stuffed to the brim with fried objects. Compliments to the Chief Fryer at the College hotel :)

Not sure if I'd go back again now though. The hotel has a bad case of fruit flies and I dont really like being told, when I complained, that 'the flies came free with the wine' - funny, but not exactly what you want to hear :)

This was the 3rd time that Blondie and 'The Buik' visited this restaurant. The 1st time, we were trying to find somewhere local to eat and it was around 10pm at night. Which, being in Spain, you wouldnt have thought would be a problem. The Buik stayed in the car and I was sent off to scan the menu to see if there was anything that would hit the spot. I got told, by a rather charming member of staff, that the kitchen would be closing in 10 minutes - which in other words translated as 'We cant be arsed to serve you if you come in now so please do us a favour and eat elsewhere' - which, going off their menu 2 years ago, I was happy to do :)

So it was with reluctance that we ventured back there, firstly at Easter time of this year. We had heard that it had burned down a few months previous (we are not sure if this was at the hands of the Costa del Sol mafia, or if someone had got a little over zealous with the fryer) but I think it deserved another go. We went down there in the daytime as it was glorious weather - and Blondie was up for an olympic style lunch. As normal :)

The menu is bizarre. The climate in Marbella is from around March/April till end of September, warm by Northern European standards. Summers are sometimes unbearable, each year hotter and hotter and we avoid the month of August, where it gets invaded with unruly English and Italians who flock here for the heat. The menu is decidely British with fish and chips and home made burger featuring. Now I dont know about you, but the last thing I want to eat in 30 degree heat is a burger or fish and chips?!!!!!!!!

But on that particular day, I didnt mind eating a burger - as you can tell how good a restaurant is, by how well they can make a burger. It was a good enough, but there was too much meat to bread, which was rather irritating. Chips were good though :) The Buik had fish and chips and he didnt have much to complain about. Several mojitos later, we waddled out of there, fairly satisfied.

So it was with a fair amount of anticipation that we went back again the summer. We seemed to have exhausted all other restaurants in the 3 weeks we were down in Marbella again and as the Beach House is so close to our house down there, we thought we would give it another go.

We arrived at 10pm and got ushered through the restaurant that was packed, to a seating area where a young buck knocked up a mojito and something lairily coloured for 'The Buik'. Then we got ignored. In fact, it got to 10.30 and we just knew what was going to happen. When we would get discovered, we would be told that we couldnt eat 'As the kitchen is closed'. Well, the maitre d' eventually spied us growing more irritated by the second, and showed us to quite a cute table, just in front of Alan Sugar, no less. He looked like he'd been tucking into the red with gay abandon. I dont know what beauty regime his wife uses, but I'd like her secret. She is stunning :)

I started with Tempura prawns on a sesame seed salad with a coconut and sweet chilli sauce. That was really nice and fresh. You cant beat a fried prawn :) I cant remember what 'The Buik' had. Probably 2 Malboro lights and another lairy cocktail ;) Whatever it was, it wasnt special enough for me to remember anyway.
For main course I took 'Lobster, new potato, rocket and parmesan, salad, pesto dressing and asparagus hollandaise'. What a travesty to lobster that lot is. The lobster was incredibly juicy, and pefectly cooked. But there was absolutely NO need for the other parts to that dish. Rocket and parmesan salad is one dish. Pesto dressing belongs nowhere near anything else and asparagus and hollandaise sauce is a dish unto itself too. Whoever thought it was a good idea to lollop it all together on one plate needs a ruddy good slap. It didnt go at all. You almost start to get suspicious if a restaurant feels the need to fancify a lobster in the way that the Beach House did.
The Buik took fish and chips as he was feeling rather adventurous that night ;) and apart from the chips being arranged in a cube shape (which he hates) he agreed that the fish was better than we can cook at home, which irked and pleased me in equal measures.
We had a cracking bottle of white wine and some sort of dessert. Dont ask me what it was because my eyes went squiffy and we retired home shortly after.

All in all, I am not sure I'll be back. The service is chaotic and they paid far too much attention to Sir Alan Sugar. In my eyes, every client is the same, I dont want to be ignored because someone more famous is behind me. Why should I be ignored? We are all paying for the food at the end of the day!!!!!!

Nikki Beach Marbella. Arrogantly hailed as the 'Sexiest Place on the Earth'. Well that is what the website says. For the past 4 years of going down to Marbella, it has been a regular feature on Blondie's credit card statement. In fact, I think Blondie has single handedly kept the owner in Russian hookers for the entire last 4 years. Shame she wont be going back again after the last visit, which was a disaster. Have you ever been amongst the cesspit of humanity on a Sunday afternoon? Having lived in Bolton, it should come as no surprise that I would have had first hand experience of such creatures. But I didnt expect things to come full circle and them come back into fashion in my 30's.

Nikki Beach is the sort of place where you go on a whim. Well we do anyway. It isnt near anything - apart from our house, rather conveniently :) You go in, with the intention of having '1 mojito' and 6 hours later , you leave with a contingent of Russians, Pakistanis with guns (dont ask), the DJ, an overpriced sarong and a bill that will make you want to cry. You sure as hell wont be able to drive your car home and you will definately never, ever, want to drink champagne again. But it's all part of experience right?

Wrong. So very wrong. Blondie and The Buik have sworn never to return to Nikki Beach after being there on a fateful Sunday of July. Anyone that has been to Nikki cites 'Sundays' as the best day to go down for a sneeky Mojito or two. It is awash with beautiful looking people, who invariably get more attractive as the 8th Mojito kicks in. Uniform is Missoni and breast implants for the girls, and a huge fat wallet and loafers for the guys.

We had got to know one of the guys that worked at Nikki at Easter and he gave us his mobile number in case we wanted a nice table in the VIP bit when we would come in the Summer. I am always well up for a bit of VIP treatment (the very concept of VIP in Amsterdam does not exist, slipping a waiter anything other than your mobile number just brings stares of confusion!) so we gave him a call as we were planning a heavy Sunday afternoon session and wanted to be guaranteed some level of service.

We arrived and had to negotiate the 'door bitch' whose job it was to make everyones lives as miserable as possible. What a waste of space she was. The new friendly barman greeted us and waived us past 'Door Bitch' and was amply rewarded for his services before taking us to the very best table in the VIP bit.

It all started out rather civilised, we both had a mojito and plate of the Gambas pil pil and some lightly fried calamari, which were lush. Nikki Beach obviously decided to invest in a good fryer! Only problem with the food, is there wasnt enough of it to soak up the bottle of Dom Perignon Rosé that had accidentally found its way into an ice bucket next to us. We'll gloss over the fact that it was revolting and made me never want to drink anything from the Moet and Chandon stable ever again. So acidic (my favourite word when it comes to fizz, everything is 'acidic') and worst of all, it just was not gluggable. The Buik refused to drink anymore and ordered a bottle of Cristal to console himself. There isnt anything worse than the anticipation of drinking expensive, well refered fizz, and finding it tastes like Ghandi's flipflop. Utterly depressing.

The Cristal was going down nicely and that's when things really started to kick off. Groups of guys, underage I hasten to add (something I've never seen before down there), resplendent in stripey shirts, shorts and fully gelled hair (think mini Hoofers) all completely off their rockers, gurning to their little hearts content and swigging alcopops (how can 14 year olds afford 15 Euros bacardi breezers?!) Now I've reserved my vitriol for the 'girls' that were in attendance that day, because this is something that irks me incessantly. Liggers. You know the sort. I mean specifically girl liggers. Slight in frame and fairly attractive. More horse than human - too much white teeth and tan, but the overall picture (8 Mojitos deep) is something that you wouldnt be too depressed about waking up next to the following morning. Well - that Sunday there were hoards of them. All trying to siddle into the VIP area and ligg off the scores of portly Russians and Dutch that were drinking Nikki out of champagne. A couple of the more sprightly blondes made it past the bouncer and attached themselves to a bunch of guys next to us who were rather worse for wear. They started downing the fizz quicker than you can say 'I'm a cheap and nasty ligger'. God. How depressing. 2 sets of plastic breasts charmed the bouncer into the VIP area where the Russians were and decided to try and glugg down their fizz, before someone, rather hilariously, realised that they didnt in fact know these ligging girls and hauled their sorry arses out of the place. Now maybe I am too emancipated for my own good, but dont you think it's kind of embarassing trying to ligg champagne, or anything off a guy? Doesn't it make you feel proud to kinda buy your own drinks? Who wants to date, be friends with or even be in the company of girls that dont pay their way? The Buik takes a rather dim view of these sort I am afraid. And if Blondie and The Buik ceased to exist, then he wouldnt shack up with that lot for love, money or a lapdance. Sorry girls, you'll have to put your overtanned hand in your fake Burberry wallet and pay for your own drinks if you ever end up with The Buik.
As the day went on - and I stupidly decided to go for broke and get another bottle of Cristal :( Nikki just became crap. The sound system isnt all that good, I think Buik's stereo in his Seat is better ;) and a group of Spanish kids managed to get a table just below us. One of them waved around Daddy's Platinum AMEX - and the serving staff brought them 12 bottles of Piper Hendrick - which were promptly opened and sprayed on the bevvy of plastic liggers below. A vulgar display of wealth at the best of times, but I guess you wouldnt really want to drink it. Piper is just horrid champagne. Spraying it is better than drinking it. That little display of ostentatiousness apparantly failed to satisfy the Spanish kids and they took to throwing Vodka over each other. And at 200 Euros a bottle - yes you read right - 200 Euros a bottle, I think the owner of that AMEX is going to have a bigger headache than the kids the next day. At 8pm, we called it a day and sloped off home.

Nikki Beach Marbella. Not the Sexiest place on Earth, but the chaviest, cheap and nastiest place on Earth. Patronise at your peril.