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The Omnivore
The column for those who like to swing both ways… foodwise
We left London with the first glimmer of sunlight in almost five days streaming through a misted up window. We arrived in Leeds with temperatures hovering above freezing, but feeling as if our train had just stopped in the Arctic.
To make matters more interesting, the weather forecast predicted sleet and snow in the evening. Welcome to the grim north! I muttered under my vapour-exhaling breath, as one of my fellow cycling instructors, based in Manchester, usually quips.
We hurried to our Airbnb, checked our temporary, weekend-only digs, and dashed out to have something to eat.
It had been more than two and a half years since I had last been to Leeds. Interestingly, I had never eaten out here. My ex-partner moved to this Yorkshire city from her native London in her late teens, went to uni here, made a lot of friends, bought a house, built a life, and eventually decided to leave it all behind and go back to the Big Smoke, which was where we had met.
During our relationship we came back up a couple of times, stayed near the Peak District, and on a few occasions drove to Leeds to visit her friends and eat at theirs. All that had…
