Cuubo, Harborne

I’m conscious that I can’t write about every nice meal I have in every nice restaurant. It would be boring for me, and boring for you to read about the same places over and over again. Truth is, we are creatures of habit who rarely leave Harborne. We saunter around the High Street, never with the decency to book ahead, eating and drinking in the same four or five spots. You could call it a perk of this, or you could see it as a perk of the postcode, either way, I come out in hives if I have to leave the B17 postcode for any other reason than to go to New Street Station or my hairdressers. In the year since I last wrote about Cuubo I have been, I think, four times. Once with Tom that ended up going in The Mail, another time with Crazy Joe and wife, another for Omar’s leaving do, and once to run up the road to see Will, eat some soup, neck a glass of wine and run off back to a meeting. Three and a bit times then. A pi of Cubbo. A very tasty pi at that. I want to tell you that much has…