I decided we needed a bit of ‘culture’ today, so we went to visit the Lindow Man exhibition at Manchester Museum.  We’d had a late brunch so didn’t bother to eat before we went out.  Subsequently come 3pm I was starving and losing interest in looking at bog men, Egyptian mummies and stuffed animals.  We nipped across the road to KRO Bar to grab a sandwich and enjoy a beer out in the sunshine.  H’s falafal and tzatziki wrap looked tasty, and the chips were good, but my ploughman’s sandwich was deeply disappointing.  It may be a small gripe, but having some cheese in there is always a good start!

The sandwich came on two rolls (ciabatta?  not sure) with frilly lettuce poking out all round like a little valance sheet on a bed.  This misled me into thinking it would be a nice, juicy, salad-filled sandwich.  Wrong.  There was indeed a big piece of lettuce, but there was also a huge amount of pickled onion, and a massive slathering of Branston pickle.  And on top of this?  The measliest, tiniest sprinkling of grated cheese they could possibly get away with.  It was barely there.  If I’d closed my eyes I would’ve missed it.  Depressing.  Very depressing.  I mean really, how hard can a ploughman’s sandwich be?! 

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