Regular readers might have noticed that, apart from frequent tweets, Matt and Cat have been a bit quiet on the review front lately. This is due to their tireless work for charidee, helping to organise Twestival - and a great success it was too.

One of
Matt and Cat's
favourites

Regular committee meetings in the Blacksheep Bar meant dinner at least once a week in this delightful venue with its friendly and accommodating staff and delicious tapas. Cheers guys!

Now that Twestival is over (until February 2010), Matt and Cat have been winched back onto the review horse and are galloping into a town near you. Saddling up one weekday evening they rode into Cowes and wandered around its streets looking for a place to slip on the proverbial nosebags. There's certainly plenty to choose from in this picturesque town; Indian, seafood, Italian and even Portuguese. M and C carefully examined the menus of several different places only to be thwarted by the fact that they were closed, had already featured on these pages or they just didn't fancy them. Cat, particularly, can dismiss a place on a whim and Matt can tell in an instant the mood of The Cat (is her metaphorical tail up? Or swishing?). With this specialist knowledge of Cat's 'inclination barometer' he knew that the Red Duster had caught her eye. Lingering over the menu? Check! Peering in the windows? Check! Taking a pre-emptive photo of the outside? That settled it; in they went.

Read more »

Visit the website: http://www.theredduster.com/

It's coming up to high season on the Isle of Wight and its sailing capital in particular is due for an intense time as Cowes Week fever reaches its crescendo. This time of year all of the shops, bars and eateries are well-stocked and the town's main thoroughfare is buzzing.

Hats off then to the proprietors of Manuel's, Cowes' Portuguese restaurant for establishing their venue in a most unprepossessing place.

Far from the main shopping area, in converted former industrial units next to an electricity substation and in the shadow of a housing development, squats Manuel's. Laudable attempts have been made to make the exterior welcoming; a big area of decking and picture windows attempt to open up this little red brick building. Alas at the time of Matt and Cat's visit, the exterior of Manuel's was all but hidden by parked vehicles and any view of the restaurant's interior was obscured by Venetian blinds pulled steadfastly down. However, the door was ajar and tantalising aromas wafted out. Stopping to examine the menu which was helpfully displayed outside, Matt and Cat strolled in.

Read more »

Visit the website: http://www.sailingnetworks.com/organisation/details/7300

There are a few things about living on the Isle of Wight so axiomatic that Island residents will be bemused to even hear them discussed. Taxis are one. You never, ever take a taxi on the Island unless someone else is paying. As everyone knows, they are fearfully expensive and inefficient. Well, to be fair they may or may not be expensive and inefficient, but as nobody who lives here has ever been in one it's hard to say. Quite possibly the Island has the world's best value taxi firms, but we'd never find out. Isle of Wight Pearl is another. Wildly popular with coach parties, this mysterious building is terra incognita to Islanders. It could be the finest entertainment on earth - or not. We have no idea what goes on in there or why.

So, what else? Food on the ferries. Ah, yes. From early childhood, Island children are told 'No, you can't have any sweets/drinks/cakes/chips etc' as a regular part of their trips on the ferry. This stricture carries on into adulthood. Snacks, maybe, but few Islanders will willingly eat a full meal on the ferry, on the assumption, passed down from father to son, that the food will be of such extraordinarily high price and low quality that the experience might prove fatal.

Recently, Matt and junior reviewers Bill and Jack found themselves travelling homewards with some friends. It came about that the party were eventually in the position of having to put ferry fodder to the test. A long drive back was delayed to such an extent that the only chance of getting on the boat in a timely fashion was to eat dinner on board. Various increasingly unlikely scenarios were devised to attempt to avoid this, but the practicality of arranging pizza delivery in the marshalling-yard having defeated them, Matt and party finally bowed to the inevitable and prepared to be fleeced. Did Red Funnel rise to the occasion, or did the shipboard supper sink without a trace? Read on to find out.

Read more »

Visit the website: http://redfunnel.co.uk

Shops in Cowes - and indeed people - seem to be divided into two broad groupings. Either impossibly chic and inaccessible; or quaint to the point of impracticality. Both have their merits, but Matt and Cat undoubtedly tend to favour the fanciful when faced with the choice.

So with that in mind it is perhaps no surprise that when strolling through Cowes one afternoon, Matt and Cat stopped for a late lunch at the Watch House Barn in Bath Road. Quite a few other places to eat had already put up the shutters, but the Watch House still looked warm and welcoming. As M & C stood outside peering vaguely at the menu, any last traces of indecision were eliminated when they looked in to see a working model train chugging around the eatery. That definitely counts as quaint. So in they went, and took their seats underneath the whooshing wheels of the constantly circling locomotives.

Read more »

Visit the website: http://www.watchousebarn.co.uk/

Cowes: a winter evening. Commuters scurry home through the drizzle. An impossibly well-dressed young man with a suitcase stands on a street-corner, bleating into his phone.

Matt and Cat are accosted by this youth, who is gibbering pitifully. "Are you from Isle of Wight?" he beseeches. On confirmation, he eagerly explains his plight. Pater has come to meet him at the ferry. In the car. But Pater has gone to East Cowes of all places. Junior thus finds himself on the wrong side of the river and is at a loss. Neither he nor Pater has ever had to deal with such a crisis. They are mortified. The phone squawks in impatience as he discourses. He breaks off regularly to mollify it: Pater is not accustomed to being kept waiting. With a great deal of careful explanation, the filial rendezvous is arranged via the chain ferry and eventually a grateful Junior strides off hopefully, his woollen scarf flapping in the wind. M & C, entertained by this distraction, find themselves standing outside Mojac's Restaurant on Shooter's Hill. So, in they go.

Read more »

Visit the website: http://www.mojacs.co.uk