I OFTEN become very irritated when reading restaurant reviews.

Those in what are wrongly called the nationals seem to mean St Albans when referring to ‘the far north’, and would rather spend column feet slating as inedible the offerings at a Mayfair sushi bar where starters at £24.50 are regarded as ‘a bit steep‘, than spending the same sum getting a cheap day return to Manchester and properly reviewing far superior eateries where £25 will suffice for three courses.

Whenever the London Times, London Telegraph or London Independent do find themselves in the North West, they seem to find a need to settle themselves at venues called ‘Kath’s Caff’ based in dinted caravans overlooking Runcorn where they can rave patronisingly about scratchings at thre’pence ha’penny and compound the stereotypes they are so eager to keep in tact.

More irksome still, are local newspaper reviewers who are ‘too full’ to savour the desserts, contenting themselves with yet more alcohol and offer as advice only that ‘they’re all £4.95’.

Just not good enough.

A theatre reviewer whose concentration span is too short to last into the final act has no right to be paid for their efforts, and anyone who fails to comment on the sweet course is not worth their sugar.

Anyway. While this column is not, generally, a restaurant review, it’s going to end up that way this week, as I’ve just had the finest meal I’ve had in years at a new restaurant owned by a Chorlton-born and Withington and Didsbury-bred fellow who has brought something very exciting - and very good value - to Manchester’s culinary scene, and deserves all the support our taste buds can offer.

Richard O’Rourke and co-owner Noel Goulding, who used to run The Bridge on Bridge Street, have created a superb new restaurant and food emporium in a stylishly elegant converted Victorian warehouse on Manchester’s Sackville Street.

Now, new independent eateries are not a rarity in themselves, but Manor Drive-born Richard wanted to smash through the glass ceiling of regular ‘pretty good food’ places which we see all over the suburbs, and provide something special. And he has.

The first time I found the place was waiting for the sun to come out in Sackville Park which Gastro’s overlooks, as I was photographing the sculpture of Alan Turing onto the finger tips of which someone has recently painted nail varnish.

I lunched that day on the biggest, fattest, freshest sardines I’ve ever tried - as good indeed as the exquisite ones found in the little fishing villages of Portugal from the days when I travelled beyond the outer reaches of Gatley - those heady, heady pre-parental days of long ago.

Recently, we decided to try the restaurant proper, and it was sensational.

In south Manchester, we’re blessed with some very good dining experiences - Jem & I has always been consistently fine with dependably beautifully cooked dishes from a real local, and Rhubarb has won awards for justifiably delicious dishes - although if there was a special award for ‘longest wait to be served at all’, it would come out with a gold.

Chorlton’s Marmalade has provided a very pleasant evening, and Bistro 156 on Burton Road is the best value of the locals, while The Metropolitan improved no end under its present chef. But there comes a time, when we need a twist on the expected - a time to really thrill to subtlety on the palate, and Gastro’s was a revelation.

Another rather wearying trend with food reviewers is their need, so often, to make a performance out of their dining companion.

‘The Blonde’, ‘The Mysterious Madame X’ and ‘ Er Indoors’ are so often wheeled in to describe who had the vegetarian option.

Well, I was there with my partner and my mother, and between us, we relished every morsel of delicate Jerusalem artichoke soup, roast pumpkin soup and Kidderton Ash goats cheese salad.

My mother, who begins almost every meal with the words ‘I’m sorry darling, but I’m just not going to be able to eat this’, wasted no time declaring those self-same words, before devouring the most delicate whiting dish, while I massively enjoyed a tender meal of local venison loin (not sure how local - I’ve never actually seen venison wandering around the Gay Village) with exquisite glazed chestnuts and treacly-sweet roast beets.

The last time I’d really splashed out on a city centre meal was the deeply disappointing Establishment (replaced now by an equally overpriced effort) at the top of King Street. The food at Gastro’s was plentiful (so plentiful, the remainder of the dense, lightly perfumed mashed celeriac was given to us in foil for lunch the following day), and very, very fresh.

The chef, Rick Barlow, came originally from London’s Oxo Tower (far too far away to bother reviewing - I understand they like tripe and cockles in the South East), and more recently from the late, not-that-lamented ‘Assembly’ on Lapwing Lane, West Didsbury.

It will be tough for Richard O’Rourke, who attended Elm Grove and then Parrs Wood School in Didsbury.

He obviously has a passion for food, and is driven by a desire to break through the samey mould of the chain restaurants - but there’s a reason why independents, however excellent, have a constant struggle.

We’re all so used to pretty good but not outstanding, or outstandingly expensive, we don’t recognise how important it is to support somewhere that breaks the mould.

We should. I most certainly will.

Neil Roland’s photographic collections can be viewed at www.neilroland.co.uk