It’s just after midday, on a chilly, wind-whipped Friday in central Manchester, and an ever-growing crowd of people in puffer jackets is spilling out from a Chinatown service alley. A few yards away, there’s another huddle of bundled-up figures, dipping into capacious paper bags to set up an improvised picnic on the junction boxes outside a corner pub. Fistfuls of crinkle-cut chips are snaffled, cans of pop are sipped, and, despite the pervading scent of bin juice and fried chicken, enormous, truncheon-sized sandwiches are unwrapped and messily dispatched.
It looks a little like a staged re-enactment of Covid-era dining practices. Or, perhaps, a group of heavily refreshed, pub-crawling stags, fuelling up with all the restraint and decorum of town-centre pigeons. But if you are even slightly familiar with Manchester and its recent food scene, then you will know that this is a regular sight at Fat Pat’s: a takeaway operation run out of a literal hole-in-the-wall that has turned word-of-mouth, social media virality and a studiedly underground brand identity into one of the city’s biggest success stories.
