Trof Northern Quarter

Since Trof NQ first opened, the Northern Quarter has developed around it to become one of the city’s most prominent areas, populated by countless bars and restaurants – with many taking their cues from one of the original forward-thinking venues. Its sister venue in Fallowfield closed in 2013, much to the dismay of students the length and breadth of the Oxford Road corridor, but not before gathering a reputation for producing one of the finest hangover-curing full English breakfasts in the city. Thankfully, Trof NQ offer their own version, served until 4pm. Making it ideal for hard-living clubbers and the lazy alike.

But it isn’t just breakfast. Word has it Trof serve up excellent Sunday roasts. Indeed, the menu confidently states “The best Sunday dinner in the world, ever.” It’s a bold claim to make about one of Britain’s most important meals, particularly when a good number of its diners are working through a grizzly hangover and need it more than most. Thankfully, the courteous, friendly and never-intrusive staff make for a pain-free experience. The place is as busy as it was a decade ago, but rather than wall-to-wall students and boys in bands, these days you’ll also find a more refined mix of families and weekend workers.

We begin with the full English breakfast. Every classic element is crammed onto the plate, with no unwanted extras (outliers such as bubble and squeak have no place on the breakfast plate). Rightly, the free range egg is fried rather than scrambled, and the yolk silky and runny, with no pesky albumen sloshing around. The granary toast comes hot and crunchy, layered with salty butter. The bread used is made at Trof’s own bakery and a million miles away from cheap supermarket bread. The sausage is exceptional. Lesser breakfasts come with cheap fatty sausages chucked on as an afterthought, whereas these are robust and lightly seasoned with fresh herbs – a hint of thyme and possibly oregano – subtle enough to avoid soapiness but enough to bring out the earthiness of the pork. They’re from Chorlton’s much-loved Frost’s Butchers and made to Trof’s recipe specifications, meaning this is the only place to buy them, frustratingly.

The grilled back bacon is thick and salty, with the all-important crisp of charred rind round the outside. This is key. A floppy rim of fat on undercooked bacon can ruin a meal. Chopped-up buttery mushrooms jumble up against a pool of Heinz beans, and a couple of grilled half tomatoes make for a pleasingly juicy diversion. The hash brown looks suspiciously pre-made with its neat tidy edges, but this is forgivable, and even preferable to the handmade type, which have a tendency to sprawl out, unkempt and unappealing.

The breakfast purist might grumble at the lack of black pudding but that gritty texture isn’t for everyone, and the powerful coppery flavour would only detract from the Trof special sausage. As it is, everything is perfectly balanced, with just enough of each item and never too much that it becomes a chore to eat. Even the beans, which often overwhelm the English breakfast, are relegated to a small palm-sized area, safe from spoiling the other ingredients.

Bursting with rich meaty flavour and flecked with scraps of chicken and veg, not a granule in sight.

And now for the famed Sunday roast. It’s another jam-packed plate of hangover-defying indulgence, this time dominated by an enormous Yorkshire pudding. Tricky to get right, even at standard size, this one is flawless. Crispy but not overcooked, with a comfortingly chewy gravy-soaked base. And this is as good as gravy gets. Bursting with rich meaty flavour and flecked with scraps of chicken and veg, not a granule in sight. The vegetables are seasonal, so, as we head into autumn, it’s shredded cabbage and broccoli, with a carrot puree hiding under the roast potatoes. Both cabbage and broccoli are firm and robust, cooked just enough to provide a satisfying bite. The carrot puree blends with the gravy to create a velvety smooth emulsion, tailor-made for smothering onto your choice of meat.

Today it’s chicken, which comes on the bone and consists of hefty amounts of dark and white meat. The skin is well-seasoned and crispy, and the meat underneath is plump and soft, with a gentle buttery flavour. The roast potatoes are good, with soft fluffy insides, but the skin is a few minutes in the oven away from reaching the optimum level of crispy. A small pot of chunky cranberry sauce completes the dish, but proves redundant when the gravy alone is so good.

Is it the best in the world? Well, unless there’s a Michelin-starred chef knocking out Sunday roasts on the Champs-Élysées, Trof have a legitimate claim. The ingredients are fresh and prepared with an expert eye for detail, while the gravy is a must-try for anyone clamouring for a home-cooked taste, minus the hours of effort. And the breakfast? At the risk of sullying the memory of the dearly departed, it’s even better than the old Trof Fallowfield breakfast, and there’s no higher praise than that. This isn’t fancy dining, but it was never meant to be – it’s comfort-eating at its best. But be warned, don’t make plans for the rest of the day. The sheer calorific heft of one of these meals, let alone both, means the sweet embrace of the food coma will soon follow.