Stimulated byÂ theÂ revitalizing efforts of enterprises like the Merchant Hotel, Belfast’sÂ CathedralÂ QuarterÂ has shaken off its cobwebs to become the city’s up and coming cultural hotspot. The magnificentÂ St. Anne’s CathedralÂ is a focal point but the cobbled streets are dotted with gems of all kinds: galleries like theÂ Belfast Print Workshop, Catalyst Arts, andÂ Belfast Exposed, which focuses on contemporary photography; music ranges from traditional sessions at the Duke of York to local emerging bands at the Front Page; plus there are pubs aplenty, including the smart Northern Whig, and The John Hewitt, knownÂ for its lunch, as well as for impromptu readings. Each May the Quarter hosts aÂ cutting edgeÂ festival, too, with an emphasis on bringing arts to unorthodox places.Â If Belfast is slowly gaining a reputation as a smart destination for the cosmopolitan and culturally aware, much of the credit can be found in the Quarter. Then there’s the food, which in my humbleÂ opinion is as much a reflection ofÂ theÂ change happening across the city as anything else: from pub grub with a locally sourced twist at The Morning StarÂ in Pottinger’s Entry, one of the city’s oldest pubs; to the shabby chic global eclecticism ofÂ Made in Belfast, where you’re just as likely to find falafel with harissa as sinfully good beef fat chips;Â you can feast affordablyÂ insideÂ Mourne Seafood Bar, whereÂ the fish and shellfish are impeccably fresh or splurge on the plush ritual of a proper afternoon tea in the Merchant’s Great Room. All the more impressive is how this hive of activity is evolving within the space of just a few square blocks. Another of the dining highlights isÂ The Potted Hen,Â whichÂ remains one of the most talked about restaurants in the Quarter, though it opened almost 18 months ago. A bistro-styleÂ establishmentÂ on St. Anne’s Square, it’s modern and welcoming, chic yetÂ comfortable. The menu is imaginative and wholly unpretentious, which goes a long wayÂ towardsÂ explaining its continued local popularity. Chicken liver is not an uncommon starter in Northern Ireland but at the Hen the house parfait melts in your mouth, like velvet, encased in a ribbon of buttery fat. (That it comes with a steak knife must be someone’s idea of a joke.) Piquant onion marmalade is made in-house and in place of the customary toast points, a freshly baked brioche loaf in miniature. Paired with a jammy glass of Malbec, it’s hedonistic heaven.Â Black puddingÂ andÂ celeriac puree accompany my entrÃ©e, a slow-cooked rondel of pork belly topped with a cool coupe of apple sorbet. Savory, sweet, hot and cold, the multiple textures and flavors coalesce in a delicious forkful, quickly subverting what could’ve easily turned into an overworked porkÂ clichÃ©. Another welcome surprise came in aÂ featherweight version of sticky toffee pudding. (My fondness for the classicÂ dessert is almost as well-known as my lack of self-control.) Dusted with crushed honeycomb it felt closer to a souffle than a pudding, which was more than fine by me. It allowed me to exit the boisterous dining room sated but not stuffed – and glad for a leisurely evening stroll through the Quarter, silently ruminating on how none of this could have been imagined – let aloneÂ laudedÂ – less than a decade ago.