Stag weekends aren’t usually famous for the culinary exploits and to be fair this one is no different. However, we did unearth a couple of local Geordie gems that were more than adequate for the soaking up of the copious quantities of alcohol that is par for the course for a night out in Newcastle.
At lunchtime we slid along in the snow to a cheeky little family Italian place in the centre of town – I have no idea what it was called nor would I even be able to find it again. All I do know is there was a two course lunch on offer for £6. Yep, six quid. And do you know what? It was absolutely perfect for whatt we needed – homemade soup and the garlickiest (is that a word) bread I’ve ever had, followed by two monster calzones. Including two bottles of servicable Venetian house merlot, the bill came to £33!! We nearly cried and kissed the waiter, but given he had a tattoo on his neck that said Mamma, we decided against.
After lunch it was on to the evening of carnage that was the stag do. Suffice it to say, I’m a little green on these matters and I don’t usually frequent bars that have a dentist’s chair actually on the bar, with punters paying for the privilege of a scantily clad dancer pouring shots down their necks whilst shaking their booty. Really.
The music was so loud it made my ears bleed and there was the customary scuffle with bouncers/run in with the law that seems to be part of the standard stag do agenda these days. Paul and I being two of the more mature members of the party excused ourselves realtively early, determined to try out a local curry house (frequented by Jackie Charlton’s sons no less).
What happened next was one of the best curries we’d ever had. The place didn’t have a licence and after a quick diversion into one of the scariest offies I’ve ever been in my life for some Cobra, we settled down to a cracking Indian meal. Taking the waiters recommendation for mains (special lamb and chicken) with the obligatory lamb chops to start, we were treated to a superbly fresh and vibrant exercise in how to do Indian food properly. It wasn’t super cheap (probably Akbars prices) but it was far superior (or maybe it was the Sailor Jerry’s talking).
I’m sure that Newcastle has a proper restaurant scene that’s well worth appraising further, but these two experiences were absolutely spot on and seriously contributed to the enjoyment of the weekend.
If we do come back however, I wouldn’t recommend the hotel we stayed at. Given it was one of the few hotels in Newcastle that accepts a group of 22 lads from West Yorkshire hell bent on booze, it wasn’t too bad. I did take umbridge though at the extra costs levied: Example: “£50 if you wet the bed”. Anyway the staff lived up the legendary geordie friendliness, so it wasn’t as bad as it sounds. It did have a rather impressive frontage…