Lunya, Liverpool ONE

And so to Liverpool. I fell in love with this city many years ago, with its pride and its humour and its grit and its grandeur, its resilience, its defiance in the face of governmental neglect and southern disdain. In England, but certainly Scouse before ‘English’.

It gets under your skin, this place. This is the city which produced the music which changed the world. The city which bred those indefatigable, indomitable people who fought for justice for their loved ones every day for decades, unbowed and unflinching, holding the British establishment to account for Hillsborough. Which other city could do the same, I wonder? A city whose football team dominated Europe like few clubs- none of them British- has ever managed to emulate. (Which is where I came in, when Liverpool meant to me what it now means to my four year old daughter: red shirts on a TV screen).

Spanish influences are a big thing here: Neon Jamon, Xiringuito, Gracias. La Vina, Roja Pinchos, Tapas Tapas. Salt House Tapas. Even the nominally Italian Bacaro gets in on the act. But the jefe, the daddy of them all, is Liverpool ONE’s Lunya.

This has been one of my favourite places to eat for a while now, but it’s my first time back here for a couple of years. It has been open since 2010, with husband and wife/dynamic duo Peter and Elaine Kinsella building on the success of their stall at North West food festivals and ending up here, in an 18th century warehouse in College Lane, right in the heart of Liverpool ONE. Acclaim and awards have never been far away.

It has a distinctive look, half the ground floor acting as a deli (their online shop is firmly established, I’ve been buying my Saula coffee here for years), with local artwork on the walls. The striking lifesize papier-mâché igures which decorate the first floor are imported from Barcelona.

The mission brief here is ‘fusion’: a willingness to use Spanish produce in a variety of ways, rather than be enslaved to the Great God of Authenticity: a firm favourite from previous visits is their ‘Catalan Scouse’. The iconic lamb neck stew, so indivisibly linked with the city, becomes a hotpot of slow-cooked cured pork treats.

Morcilla- Spanish blood sausage- has been shaped into little balls and crumbed, before being deep-fried, slicked with a syrup of honey and orange and a daub of pomegranate molasses. It’s instantly impressive, instantly memorable: a delicately structured shell, an inky black interior, rich earthiness with sour-sweet notes.

Most playful of all is a riff on gua bao, the pillowy hirata-style bun intact and the smoky pork belly teamed with a slice of membrillo, the quince paste so typically paired with manchego cheese; there are tiny nuggets of crunchy crackling.

Most playful of all is a riff on gua bao, the pillowy hirata-style bun intact and the smoky pork belly teamed with a slice of membrillo, the quince paste so typically paired with manchego cheese; there are tiny nuggets of crunchy crackling.

It’s hardly the kind of thing you’d call ‘authentic’, but it takes those Spanish ingredients and serves them with a twist. It’s the kind of thing I’d order by the trough.