Discovering what celebrities like to eat will always fascinate me. Take the Kardashians for example, they love iced tea, matcha and salad. In fact, their salad shaking ways have inspired countless memes and videos on TikTok, much to the delight of their loyal followers.
Mindlessly scrolling through videos on TikTok is where I tend to find these little nuggets of information, committing them to memory for no particular reason, and denying myself the head space to consider more important issues such as the current geo-political situation.
However, it was on the same platform a few weeks ago that pop sensation Lizzo shared a post entitled “Manchester got the good good”, and I immediately felt better about my screen habits. The Grammy Award-winning singer, rapper and flautist was singing the praises of Gooey, the lockdown baking sensation turned café that’s become a Northern Quarter hit.
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Few brands in the city have established a cult-like status as quickly as Gooey, but then few are consistently satisfying Manchester’s sugar cravings quite like they are. Three years after its arrival on Manchester's food scene, one kiosk and countless deliveries later, and the bakery - loved for its melt-in-the-middle cookies and fluffy doughnuts - continues to impress, with queues around the block most weekends.
While blockbuster bakes are its bread and butter, it also serves up a range of all-day breakfast, brunch and lunch dishes at its bakery and cafe space in the former Cat Café on High Street. A wrap-around glass exterior means you can noisily inspect the goods before you step inside, a space that feels in keeping with the Northern Quarter aesthetic - think exposed concrete, neon signs and lots of plants.
On the counter you can continue to ogle at the selection of freshly baked pastries, cakes and specials, but don’t be tempted to bag one too early, as I quickly found out, eating at Gooey is a marathon not a sprint. Taking a leaf from Lizzo’s songbook, we first try the vegan, crispy tofu satay sando (£9.90), which I must commend for its ultra neat and compact appearance.
The current trend to stuff sandwiches so all the ingredients eventually fall out or end up smeared across your face, isn’t for me. Here, we have crispy black pepper tofu, peanut satay sauce, vegan mayo, pickled cucumber and carrot carefully and uniformly wedged between turmeric vegan bread.
It was delicious, but my only regret was not following Lizzo’s lead of squashing a hash brown inside the sando - as she says, UK hash browns are “top tier”. Though like her, I did almost find myself blessing the bread.
I know the brunch crowd love sourdough, but Gooey’s Shokupan bread, which they use for other guest sandwiches and the classic Kewpie egg mayo (£7.50), is a breath of fresh air. Subtly sweet, light and fluffy, it’s somewhere between brioche and white bread and highly photogenic.
It’s the base for our next sandwich, the Classic Reuben (£12.50), inspired by the Reuben served at the legendary Katz’s Delicatessen - New York’s oldest deli. It’s a bit of a beast, especially for someone who hasn’t finished their first sandwich, but it’s too good not to dive in.
Something quite special happens when tender slices of pastrami are layered over oozing Swiss cheese, a wad of sharp sauerkraut, crunchy pickles and a healthy smattering of Russian dressing and French mustard. Though I admitted defeat half way through, it is exactly what a butty should be.
There’s a long list of coffees, fresh and cold-pressed juices, as well as ‘fancy schmancy’ beverages including the iced strawberry and vanilla matcha latte and the watermelon iced tea, which I can’t help but wonder whether the Kardashians would like, but for those in need of ‘good and proper teas’, as Gooey puts it, there’s one of life’s simpler pleasures - the builder’s brew (£3.20).
A solid brew and a much-needed palette cleanser as we begin to talk about the logistics regarding the block of glistening bread before us. Door wedge, altar or Tardis, I’m not entirely sure, but the French toast (£11.50) is a magnificent tower of carbohydrate just asking to be hacked at and devoured.
Sturdy looking and with the nice clear-cut edges and corners I was harping on about before, I’m pleased to say the knife glides through the brioche with great ease. Already swimming in Maple syrup, the lighter-than-air brioche oozes with vanilla crème patisserie and dulce de leche, and is topped with salted butter - just in case you didn’t think you would hit your calorie quota for the day.
There’s something instantly nostalgic about the droves of dulce de leche pouring from the now torn down tower of bread. The flavour is akin to the butterscotch flavour of Angel Delight - and that’s a great thing.
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