The car’s thermostat is flickering between single and negative digits, a sure sign that the year’s first snowfall isn’t far away. As I eagerly cross the road, I slip on the icy pavement – a stark reminder of the winter chill.
The thought of turning back crosses my mind – after all, who ventures out in the early days of a New Year?
But I pick myself up, remembering the sight of a queue outside my destination just minutes ago. This place has been on my list for some time.
Nestled between a beauty salon and a fast-food joint called Munch Bay, on a housing estate between Northenden and Sale Moor, you’ll find Solar Bakery and Solar Cafe. This bakery caught my eye on Instagram, where it was recommended for its Hong Kong-style cuisine.
It offers a variety of Chinese bakery classics, traditional Cantonese desserts, and a selection of noodle and rice dishes. While Greater Manchester already boasts a number of well-established eateries celebrating this cuisine, there’s been a recent surge in new cafes, restaurants, and supermarkets offering authentic Hong Kong delicacies, craft beers, and desserts, reports the Manchester Evening News.
For a while, I thought I had dreamt up this bakery. The screenshot I was sure I’d taken months ago had vanished, and the name of the place eluded me.
But after scouring the internet for clues, I finally struck gold. The website is predominantly in Cantonese and its Google listing simply reads ‘Chinese Bakery’, but thanks to the translate button, I managed to get some information.
Then I stumbled upon a YouTube video by a Hong Kong couple living in the UK who had visited Solar specifically to sample its bread. In their somewhat rambling video, they showcased an array of the bakery’s breads and sweets, including pineapple buns and egg tarts – the latter being a palm-sized pastry filled with a vibrant yellow custard.
I was instantly drawn in and knew I had to give it a go. Commenters on the video who had been to Solar said it felt like being ‘back in Hong Kong’, and praised the baked goods as ‘unbeatable’.
That was all the persuasion I needed, and later that day, I found myself joining the queue. Peering into the shop to gauge the queue situation, I found it was so cramped you could barely swing a cat.
With the few tables already crammed with customers, I worried I might not find a spot. A staff member noticed me and warned it would be a while before I could be seated.
Unfazed, I opted to wait for a seat at the solitary bar table outside.
Undeterred by the biting cold, I took a seat outside, drawn in by the clear blue skies. It was a moment of solitude on the cusp of snowfall, savoring French toast and pork cutlets.
Perhaps donning gloves and a hat would’ve been wise, but I chose to roll with it, my teeth chattering ever so slightly. The waitress emerged to take my order, and with unbridled enthusiasm, I rattled off a string of items from the menu.
Her expression transformed from interest to concern as the list grew longer. We exchanged a knowing glance – I’d clearly overordered for one person – and I offered a reassuring, if somewhat manic, smile to put her at ease.
As she retreated back inside, I felt the weight of curious stares from the queue. The surrounding area was a patchwork of contrasts, with what appeared to be a scrap yard to my left, while across the street, mothers pushed strollers, and children scurried off toward the nearby tram stop.
Before long, the waitress returned with a Cantonese Bun (£1.50) – a soft, fluffy sweet bun generously filled with a slab of butter – and one of the egg tarts (£1) I’d been itching to try. “Don’t worry if you can’t finish it all,” she said, her smile tinged with awkwardness, as she handed me a small plastic bag.
Her skepticism about my ability to handle the substantial spread, which included the French toast and pork and rice, was probably justified, but I was determined to see it through. The bun is a true wonder, with the rich butter slicing through the soft and delicate dough, while its flaky, almost crystallised cookie crust sparkles as it catches the sunlight.
It’s only rivalled by the egg tart, which flaunts several flaky layers and a creamy, rich centre that oozes as you take a bite. No sooner have I polished these off, the main course makes its grand entrance.
Now I see why she handed me a doggy bag. On her advice, I’ve opted for the ‘Curry Deep Fried Pork Cutlet with Rice’.
A hefty pile of sticky rice shares a large plate, nearly spilling over with curry sauce and a neatly arranged array of crispy pork cutlets. The pork is best enjoyed picked up, bits of the crispy coating falling into the curry sauce beneath, each juicy bite surpassing the previous one.
Large spoonfuls of rice, meanwhile, are scooped up and smothered in curry sauce that delivers the perfect balance of heat and spice. As one of the first meals of a New Year, I can’t help but feel I may have set the bar too high too soon.
This feeling is only reinforced by the arrival of my final dish – their interpretation of French toast. Thick slices of milk bread filled with peanut butter, cut into precise sandwich squares, before being dipped in eggs and shallow fried.
It’s served with another generous slab of butter and a pot of honey.
A bit of digging reveals that this type of food would be categorised as Hong Kong-style Western cuisine or Canto-Western cuisine – both types are served in Hong Kong-style diners and restaurants to cater to a broader clientele. I notice the Cantonese words next to it on the menu, which translate to ‘Western Toast’, reinforcing this point.
The shallow frying technique results in a much crispier texture, and there’s something incredibly satisfying about hearing the distinct crunch as I cut into it. The chunk of butter has melted into the bread, making this a truly indulgent ending.
I don’t manage to finish it all, but I give it my best shot, leaving the bakery and cafe feeling like I’ve discovered a hidden treasure.