RIP my first attempt at a blue passport, just eight days and one hour old. Collected one week prior to a holiday from the Liverpool passport office, driven back to Brum, successfully packed on to a flight to Santander, and successfully stolen in that bastard city forty minutes after landing. A misdemeanour that worked slightly in our favour, culling a miserable Bilbao and adding a beautifully boozy two days in Madrid via a five hour train and a trip to the embassy. Total cost of that passport, including Liverpool, emergency documents, new flights and trains, circa £480. And who says I’m wasteful with money.
So that’s why I was in Liverpool. And there was no way I was doing a five hour round trip on a hangover without a decent lunch. Maray has been on my radar for a while, ever since I had an impeccable falafel kit during lockdown that involved lots of small plates and an equal amount of wine. We are first through the door on a cold spring morning, quick on the negroni and with a clear idea of what we want. Some of that falafel and the roasted cauliflower they are known for, some fried chicken, lamb shawarma, and some bits to slather on to flatbreads.
Before we get on to the bits that are great, let’s first get the worst dish out of the way; the fried chicken was a bit of a disaster. It wasn’t crispy in parts and had a whiff of stale oil about it. Of all the food we take home – and we take home a lot – this was the one we left on the plate. And I probably wouldn’t order the lamb shawarma again. The belly cut means there’s a lot of fat going on, and I’m not sure the fat has rendered down enough. It’s good, but it’s a bit of work.
The veg stuff – entirely vegan in our order – is where they shine most. The falafel is utterly brilliant; a nutty herbaceous treat with brittle exterior and fluffy, piping hot centre. They arrive dressed in a punchy harissa mayo and nestled on a little tabbouleh and good amount of hummus that whacks of tahini. It’s just £7.25. And for £8.25 you can get half a cauliflower, enough to ensure you’ll be farting for days, roasted until the edges caramelise and char. It comes under the camouflage of chermoula, tahini, yogurt, and more harissa, on top a flurry of almond and pomegranate. Subtle it is not, effective it is. And don’t forget the hot dips, each a study in balance and varying heat, with pickles and textbook flatbreads.
Lunch is about £60 for the two of us, and we drive back with a bag of food clasped between our feet to eat that evening. There was little about Maray that felt entirely original given that Ottolenghi has inspired the country wide enough to feature on menus, cookbooks, and Loyle Carner records, but they do it very well. Stick to the falafel, get the cauliflower and the flat breads, and you’ll have a bill of not much and a very nice feed.
7/10
