A builder, a graphic designer and a policeman. Yes, potentially the beginnings of a questionably dull joke but also a description of the daily queue outside Rustica. Why is that? And why, of all the colourful, quirky and whatever-you-want options, is this potentially still the busiest corner in the Northern Quarter ever since the doors swung open over 25 years ago? 

“It’s cheap!” Jeanette says, zero hesitation. 

“Too cheap.” Donna joins in, with a raised eyebrow pointed at Jeanette, who regularly gives out free bits and bats to ‘anyone who looks like they need it’.

“And we flirt with everyone.” Lynne is on a ladder, half tidying a shelf, half making a sandwich for one of the last minute customers of the day. We all laugh as she clambers down and continues, “It’s just fun isn’t it? Not just the men - if there’s a good looking woman we’ll tell her, ‘you’re fit’.”

My initial plan was to sit down with the people behind Manchester’s favourite spots and get to know them, but as I’m loitering in the sweltering back of Rustica, shimmying in and out of the way while these ladies dart around the snug kitchen, shouting ‘hiya love’ to passers-by and basically just having a loose chat with me, I’m getting a pretty clear idea of what they’re about and we’re only three minutes in.

Who’s your favourite customer?

“Erm, Tintin,” Jeanette replies. “I call him Tintin ‘cause he’s got a quiff, he works for media. Or GINGE! I like him too, I shout that at him whenever he walks past. Yeah, he’s nice.”

“We love Anthony next door.” Lynne says as she shows me a Google page of random babies she’s using as bate for a rumour. “He’s such a gossip so I told him this morning I was off yesterday ‘cause my daughter’s had a baby (she hasn’t) and I just want to see how quickly it’ll spread. I’m gonna go and show him a photo of it later.” “Google ‘world’s ugliest baby’”, Donna chips in, which gets a round of chuckles from all of us. Who else? “All the fit men.” Lynne whispers with a grin. “Nah, anyone who brings a dog - I love a dog, me. I give them all bits of bacon, I can’t help myself.”

“There’s a lot of return customers from abroad, especially America. And so many famous people come here and you think they’re a customer because of the familiar face so you’re talking away super friendly and then you realise and it’s like ‘you’re that tramp from Coronation Street aren’t you!’ They love it though. The guy from The Full Monty was here once and we were all singing the theme song and had him dancing along.” Jeanette gives us a small rendition that sets us all off cackling again. There’s an infectious cheekiness that exudes out of the three of them. You can’t help but want to be a part of it.

We reminisce over some Northern Quarter characters still knocking about and my favourite brummy handyman pops up in conversation. “We love Fred! We gave him a joint of meat and he sent us a text of the meal he made that night. Favour for a favour kind of thing.” Which is a regular transaction it seems, with the army shop lending the use of their freezer and making menu posters, Evuna sharing bin space and Just Between Friends sharing their toilet - an old school community feel they’ve held onto for years. “It’s nice that you can go next door for a posh coffee and then come ‘round here for a scran, although I think we surprised some of them - we got a few new customers since we were the only two places open in lockdown and now they’re regulars.”

I ask what they’d like to be known for and Donna exclaims “Madness!” Of course. Ten minutes in that makes total sense and to be honest, it’s a very refreshing goal to hear. 

“I think if I won the lottery I’d turn this place into a soup kitchen” Jeanette quietly says, almost to herself. And then a bit louder “give free food out to all the cranks!” She’s known for giving free brews and butties out to anyone homeless, hanging around on some substance or other and the odd council estate kid. She says it’s for practical reasons - “if you look after them they don’t cause you any hassle” - which is smart. But I’ve a sneaky suspicion she just can’t let anyone go unloved or uncared for, an attitude that seems to have seeped through into everything - even the walls ooze hospitality. 

Everyone is welcome, without exception. Which is a sentiment that I think a lot of places attempt but never really manage to execute properly for whatever reason. But here, I mean, you’ve surely seen the state of the pavement if you’ve ever walked down Thomas Street - a homeless man comfortably next to a Joanna Lumley type in a suit, both casually stood on the street corner for the same reason, both of their names known and both equally welcome. A rare and beautiful thing. 

Where do you guys eat and drink?

All the neighbours get a mention; Evuna, The (iconic) Millstone and This and That, in particular. But my favourite answer: “Donna just gets a couple of cans and sits outside here.” Donna is my hero.

The place changed hands a few times, Jeanette tells me, including a couple of sisters and a couple of scraps, the latter ending in one of the owners leaving to start a new place and the other sticking with Rustica, where Jeanette also stayed and her Mum eventually took over. “They took the menu and we kept the chat so everyone stayed here.” I wouldn’t say the menu is lacking though - the Milano having won awards and being their biggest seller. Plus, I once bought a BLT with a pretty knowledgeable chef and he was so impressed with the assembly and ratios that he talked about it the whole way to Piccadilly station. I’m not saying they’re changing the culinary landscape, but they know what they are and they do it very well. And in a city where the majority of menu identities change continent from week to week depending on TripAdvisor reviews, that’s something very few can say. You get a good butty and an honest opinion. What could be more Manchester than that?

Alongside briefly covering the Cherry Ghost video and what Lynne affectionately calls ‘the book of 100 mongs’ that Jeanette appeared in, we discuss what they would change about the Northern Quarter if it was possible - cleanliness of the streets and bins, getting the public toilet back and upkeep on the roads for safety. All mentioned with an understanding of why communal things might be unrealistic now and a pang of sadness for the lack of accountability and respect the area once had. “Stop putting bars in and have some more funky little shops that encourage community. It’s changing so much. All the little places that are properly independent aren’t the majority anymore.” That word community again. It shines through everything these ladies say and do and in the aftermath of lockdown, there seems to be a sense of hunger for it again.

Every visit leaves me smiling, and by the diversity of the customers, I’d say Rustica is not only feeding the stomachs of Manchester, but perhaps another part of them too. The acceptance and warmth of a place that recognises your face and makes you feel important, special, like you belong. Whether you need to be well-fed, well-cared for or just have your dog filled to the absolute brim with hand-fed meat, they’ve got you. 

It’s the home we all wanted, but with better banter. No wonder the queue is still here.

Fay Carlos Brown is a writer based in Manchester.