Neil Sowerby finds the Portuguese Empire lives on in Bridge Street even without the departed Ronaldo
PORTUGAL, you never know what sideâs going to turn up. Ronaldo appears to have gone a couple of decades without scoring for the national team, their âGolden Generationâ have hung up their boots, no oneâs backing them to win the World Cup... and then they go and stuff North Korea 7-0.
Lusoâs always been a bit like that. No one in town does quite what they do and, overheads being what they are for individually-owned city centre restaurants, Iâve always backed them as a plucky underdog, but in truth the kitchen has always been a bit hit and miss.
Maybe itâs familiarity, but their take on vindaloo, based on the old links between maritime Portugal and Goa now underwhelms me.
Yet I recall my first taste of it in a soft launch just after the 2006 World Cup and it was a revelation. Even the starry presence of Ronaldo and a couple of mates there to sample, in his words, âsalt cod like my mother makesâ? couldnât outshine this version of a dish bastardised by Brits as the hottest curry on the post-pub menu.
The name, vindaloo is a garbled pronunciation of vinhos e alhos, wine and garlic. The Portuguese love to marinate meat in wine vinegar and garlic, pork by preference.
The Goans, thrilled by the arrival of chillis from the New World via the Portuguese circumnavigators, adopted the dish and fierily spiced it up.
I warned my companion Ms C Lusoâs Pork Vindaloo (£17.50), was going to be subtler by comparison. For subtle, she read dull and I had to agree. If the accompanying cucumber salad was mean to cool the heat, there was no need. Tandoori straw potatoes and an onion bhaji hinted at Indian cross-fertilisation, but the whole dish lacked the chilli oomph provided by home-made piri piri sauce in other dishes.
For 50p more as a main thereâs slow-braised lamb shank in Goan spiced broth, which seems a little lazy on what is a quite short, seasonally adjusted menu.
I felt the menu as a whole was treading water, as it maintains its original premise from four years back â to range beyond the homeland of owner Carlos Cortes (Luso means Portugal) into the gastronomic territory of former provinces such as Brazil, Japan and Goa.
Yet the only obvious nod in Japanâs direction on the menu was Black Pepper Sashimi Tuna.
Luso is strong on fish. Jenn started with crisp and flaky pan-fried sardines on a rocket coriander and citrus salad (£6.50) and my main featured Iberian fave hake, done here off the bone in a herb crust with piri piri prawns and a juicy langoustine paella. A mite salty but the fish had a pleasingly dense texture (£18).
I preferred, though, my Salada Portuguesa starter combo (£6.95) which yoked together classic Portuguese tastes â baby octopus (very cute and curly), morcela black pudding, chourico sausage and chick peas.
As with the home-prepared salt cod and the cataplana fish stew, I feel Luso is at its best when it is concentrating on Portuguese. Recommendation enough was when a recent visiting Portuguese wine trade gathering descended on the place for their Manchester meal.
The all-Portuguese (house champagne aside) wine list incidentally is still one of the big plusses of the restaurant from the fresh low-alcohol whites of Vinho Verde to some inky, savoury reds, made from Touriga, the port grape. We drank a delicious, minerally organic white for just over £20, which wasnât even on the list.