SKOF - Tweezered Tartlets, Table Chats with the main man and the Poshest Bit of Bread Dipping I’ve Ever Done
You know those restaurants that feel like they’ve always been there, even though they opened about five minutes ago? That’s SKOF. Tucked behind a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it door just off the bustle of Manchester’s Northern Quarter, it looks like the kind of place you’d find an underground jazz night, or one of those tucked-away supper clubs you hear about three weeks too late. Turns out, it’s neither – it’s a swanky but not snooty spot that’s already giving “destination dining” energy. And honestly, it just works. Walk in and it’s all exposed brick, soft leather booths, and quietly confident lighting – like if Soho House got a personality transplant and decided to chill out a bit. It’s cool but welcoming, the kind of place where you could wear heels, but also no one would care if you turned up in Converse and the kind of confidence that comes from knowing your socks match. We kicked things off with a glass of Bee Tree by Sugrue – a homegrown English sparkler that set t...