Louise Turner gets messy in Wagamama.

The first time you step foot into Wagamama it’s a bit like entering a secret society. The waiter will always ask ‘Have you been here before’ as he seats you, and you either give a knowing smile and carry on as he scurries away, or you stare at him wide eyed as he gives you the lowdown on what your expectations should be.

You can always spot the first timers, eating edame bean pods as well as the beans, bemused when the waiter points out that your food doesn’t necessarily come in the order you order it in and your dishes wont arrive together, and the novice noodle eaters who don’t know that its perfectly acceptable to schlurp your way through the Ramen.

For the uninitiated, Wagamama is a quick and tasty treat. Diners sit at communal tables in rows, which is good fun for a casual meal and can be quite entertaining, especially when fellow diners drop their noodles in unmentionable places. It pays to keep a firm grip on your chopsticks. Main courses start at around £7, rising up to about £10 and they are all really substantial, so on a budget it would just be possible to get a meal and drink for under a tenner. They don’t do starters as such, but have a range of small side dishes, which make great accompaniments to main courses if you are famished, or would be suitable to eat tapas style for anyone preferring a light bite. We opted for a couple of main course noodle dishes, one with teriyaki salmon and the other with chicken. On the side, we had two dishes to share, vegetable dumplings and crispy grilled tiger prawns.
All the food is cooked to order and diners get a peep into the open plan kitchen area where flames are flashing and pans are jostling. Everything is served as soon as it is ready, so for us there was a slight staggering in the service of our main meals, but it wasn’t a problem, as the side dishes came before the second main course, so there was something for both of us to eat at the same time. The second main course followed very swiftly in any case.
We both really enjoyed our main courses, they were big portions of fresh,  tasty food, well cooked and finished with fresh herbs and spices, which added a lovely burst of flavor to the food. We were unanimously in agreement about the yumminess of the vegetable dumplings (gyoza) too.
For fast food with attitude, we’d rate Wagamama highly. It’s unpretentious, with efficient and speedy service making it an ideal venue for a quick pre theatre meal or for something to end a good night out.

Wagamama Printworks 0161 839 5916
Wagamama Spinningfields 0161 833 9883
www.wagamama.com

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Karen Cooper feels her way into Lounge Ten.

There’s a fashion for darkness in restaurants at the moment, with Negresco and Ithaca both relying heavily on their diners’ ability to get to a table without tripping over. If the trend continues, soon restaurants will need usherettes who can light the way to the food with a small torch. But while it’s tough on those whose vision isn’t what it was (or who don’t eat carrots), the whole ‘dark and decadent’ thing surely began with Lounge Ten.
Lurking on Tib Lane, the interior hidden by thick purple curtains, from the outside, the place could be a high-class brothel, or a funeral parlour for theatricals. Inside, it still could be a high-class brothel.
The light is dim, the tablecloths are black, and if you can spot anything through the haze of candlelight and curtains, you’ll be able to make out large, erotic frescoes on the walls, depicting naked lovers, threesomes, priapic gods, and so forth.
It’s all immensely decadent, but it also spells out Lounge Ten’s apparent offering – a place for lovers, who want privacy (so ‘people having affairs’, then), and intend to feed each other asparagus in darkened corners.
Or so you’d think. So it’s slightly odd that rather than leaving their illicit diners alone, the restaurant has conceived a programme of entertainments which means you’re barely abandoned for a second. Someone’s either singing at you, dancing past you, doing magic at the table, or telling your fortune. It’s a little like being in a cruise ship lounge- it’s all very amusing, but sometimes, you just want them all to go back to their cabins and let you look at the view. Or the food.
The worry is, that what with Tony Ward the magician, and Sex On Legs the dancers, (a bit Peter Kay, that one) and people crooning Beyond The Sea, and a clairvoyant waiting in the ladies’ loo, (for £20, mind), the food will be the last thing on the restaurant’s mind.
But I was wrong. While genuine Parisian belle époque nightclubs may have skimped on the food (or provided just oysters, champagne and a private booth) Lounge Ten does it impeccably. My tomato and white bean soup with truffle oil was so exquisite I wanted to cry when it came to an end. It was a perfect balance of flavours, and as far from tinned tomato as Claire’s Accessories is from the Koh-i-Noor. My friend (because I’m not having an affair, sadly), had king scallops with pancetta, and said they were the best she’s had- seared on the outside, and melting on the inside. Meanwhile, the service was excellent- helpful without being intrusive, and watchful without whisking your next course onto the table while you’re still swallowing the starter (I hate that).
For the main, I wanted fish too, so ordered the seabass with braised red cabbage. Seabass can taste like cardboard if it’s not done right- this, however, was perfect, with little chunks of fish falling away, in a piquant sauce. My friend’s Noisette of lamb was equally good, but I couldn’t taste it because I hate thyme. She said it was “beautiful,” so there you have it.
We shared a pear and almond tart for pudding, which was only very slightly dry- that’s almonds for you- and then found ourselves in no rush to leave, so we ordered another bottle of Merlot.
That’s the thing- time ceases to have meaning in here. It could be any era from 1899 onwards, and unless you’re desperate to get back to your hotel to translate your asparagus-feeding into action, hours pass without you even noticing.
So it works- although it’s very pricey, possibly to cover the costs of all the extra bells and whistles. I wonder whether the restaurant should accept that its food and service is good enough not to need all the singing and dancing to back it up.
Lounge Ten,
10 Tib Lane
M2 4JB
0161 834 1331
www.lounge10manchester.co.uk

££££
Best for: Adultery.

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Four pubs are closing every day in the UK- so could it be the end of the road for the Manchester boozer, or is it still in good spirits? Andy Murray gets the beers in.

These are bleak times for the great British pub. Up to four establishments are reckoned to close every day, up 700% on 2006 figures, and beer sales are currently at their lowest since the 1930s. The odds seem to be stacked against the institution – yet Manchester’s city centre still boasts a network of fine, thriving pubs catering to all types of customer. So why isn’t the grim national trend being reflected here?
Take the Briton’s Protection. Situated right by the Bridgewater Hall, it’s the very definition of the traditional public house. A welcoming nest of roaring fires and oak panelling, renowned for its vast selection of single malts, it’s only since 1979 that women have been allowed in the back rooms. At weekends, it’s standing room only in the corridors of the Briton’s.
“There’s a community feel here,” says Briton’s bar manager, Dave. “People come in for the atmosphere. A nice pint, nice chat, no loud music. We’ve got regulars who’ve been coming in every day for years and because we’re in the city centre we get plenty of passing trade.”
But while old favourites like The Britons may have their regulars, few city centre establishments nowadays can rely on the same few customers day in, day out, or claim to be the social centre of a community. That’s why plenty of pubs now seek to offer punters something extra. Sam’s Chop House, and its brother venue ,Thomas’s Chop House, nearby, have maintained the same ‘classic pub’ decor of The Briton’s, but built up a reputation for fine food. One Sam’s customer, Richard Tuttle, 32, from Whalley Range, insists pubs still offer a welcome alternative to the rash of city centre bars. “People might go to a pub on a night when they don’t want to dress up, or don’t want to be on the pull. A nice pint and a seat – and being able to hear yourself think – go a long way for me.”
In recent months, though, a host of factors have caused pubs to feel the pinch. Venues offering late -night drinking may put the squeeze on those that can’t. The fact that many supermarkets now sell beer for under a pound, whereas pubs are obliged to charge up to three times more, means it’s often far more economical to drink at home- and the recent budget price hikes won’t help. It’s argued that ‘civilised’ home drinking will rein in anti-social behaviour, but for many, the upshot of that is no socialising at all.
The issue that divides opinion more than any other, however, is the smoking ban. One local publican, who declines to be named, rolls his eyes and groans at the very mention of it. “Oh, this bloody ban! It’s just such a liberty. If customers are outside smoking half the night, they’re not inside drinking and my profits go down. Simple as that.”
Many drinkers concur. Martin Hall is a local university lecturer who’s been drinking – and smoking – in Manchester city centre pubs for years, and he objects to the smoking ban in no uncertain terms. “In the current climate, we’re obsessed with notions of choice – other than on this one issue, where there’s now no choice for smokers,” he insists. “For me, it’s about civil liberties. Where does it end? ‘I don’t like your perfume, go outside’?”
Nevertheless, plenty of punters have welcomed the ban. Take Anthony Cowley, a drinker in the Circus Tavern who lives in Castlefield.
“I’m all for it. For me, as an ex-smoker, the pleasure of being in pubs has gone up 100% since the ban.” But in clearing the air, has some vital part of the pub ambience been lost? It would appear not.
“I worked in a really smoky pub when I was a student,” says Kerry Williams, from Salford, enjoying a glass of wine with her mates in The Nag’s Head. “I used to dread going to work, because my clothes would stink after a shift, and I had a permanent bad throat. Now, I’m much more likely to meet friends in a traditional pub like this, because I can actually breathe.”
The Circus Tavern is, legendarily, the smallest pub in Manchester, consisting only of a minuscule bar and two very modest rooms. If there’s no space, which is common, forget it. If there is, you can settle in for a delightfully cosy pint, served at your table by the barman. Tellingly, one drinker here owns a (different) pub himself, and makes no bones about the present pitfalls. “Once, the Budget would put the price of a pint up by, say, a penny. Even that would have the customers up in arms. Once these new prices kick in, we’ll definitely feel the effect.”
Beyond the city limits, tales proliferate of pubs teetering on the brink of closure. Venues that host Sky Sports screenings may reap the benefits during matches, but the expense can be prohibitively steep. Providing heated smoking areas may help keep the custom of smokers, but only certain types of outdoor heater are now allowed by law. It all means more outlay and higher overheads.
The city centre, though, has the huge advantage of passing trade. Walking down one short stretch of Oldham Street, the discerning drinker can choose from The Castle on the right or The Northern on the left. The Castle is an unreconstructed boozer and proud of it. Venture into the crumbling toilets and you’re likely to get your shoes wet. Behind the bar there’s a mosaic containing the ashes of the former landlady. It’s not short on character- plus it offers cask drinkers some of the best pints in town. The Northern, meanwhile, was previously The King, a similar, albeit more seedy, proposition to The Castle. Now it’s been reborn as the hang-out of choice for media folk around the Northern Quarter- and attracts far more women than tend to frequent traditional boozers, perhaps due to a decent bar menu, proper wines by the glass, and clean upholstery. It also boasts what one delighted punter describes as “easily the best smoking space I’ve been in.”
These flourishing establishments are the tip of the iceberg- other much-loved establishments include the Bay Horse, which caters to a cool, muso crowd, The old-school Peveril Of The Peak down near Manchester Central, and the Grapes, actress Liz Dawn’s cosy pub off Quay Street which has just picked up two Punch Tavern awards.
It seems that the city’s pub scene has currently achieved a fine balance between nostalgia and evolution- and for now, thankfully, reports of its death have been greatly exaggerated.

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Chef Michael Caines raises the bar at Abode

Being vegetarian sucks. No one who likes eating out would do it without a burning moral conviction, because all you get, generally is a limp, goats-cheese based afterthought, while the meat-lovers have their every whim, from finest blue steak to boiled offal, catered for.
But some restaurants are so fine, so thoughtful, and so utterly aware of every facet of the experience, that they make being vegetarian seem perfectly reasonable- even desirable, because what’s on offer is just as good without the meat. And Michael Caines’ Restaurant at Abode is one such place.
It only opened last month, in the basement of what used to be the Rossetti hotel. A year ago, it was a nightclub, filled with jiving middle-aged people and piles of cushions. Now, the space has been rearranged into a restaurant that’s both grown-up and friendly- a hard act to pull off, but it succeeds by lining the back wall with velvet banquettes, and filling the ex-dancefloor with tables that are three-bears perfect: not too big, not too small…just right, in fact, for romantic dinners, friendly catch-ups, or relaxed business chat. Colours are gentle browns and taupes, and the walls are hung with various rock star portraits by Brian Aris. It’s like being in the chic apartment of someone who’s done very well but doesn’t like to show off.
Service, too, is several rungs above the Manchester norm of benign forgetfulness. Caines has imported a whole new team, and it shows, as they bob and weave in a seamless dance, choreographed by the maitre d’- who, in a stroke of spatial genius, stands at what used to be the raised DJ booth, directing operations. But all this easy perfection is useless if the food tastes like boiled socks. Fortunately for the two-Michelin-starred chef’s ambitions, it doesn’t even taste like champagne drunk from Anna Pavlova’s ballet shoe. It’s much better than that.
The menu is indicative of good things- it doesn’t launch into flowery Restoration poetry about the ingredients, it just tells you what things are, with enough description to guide your choices but not enough to bore you to death. There’s a full tasting menu at £55, a grazing menu, with small dishes at around £6 each, and a pricier a la carte. I wanted Jerusalem artichoke soup, but equally, I also craved the ravioli starter- so my Sidekick Spouse ordered the taster version. Oh, it was a thing of beauty. A little pasta cup with a tiny poached quail’s egg and a neat dash of green cream which tasted much as though pixies had traipsed out at dawn to harvest dew-fresh bushels of baby herbs then boiled them in their sweetest tears. It was good. I ate most of it, in fact, so he ordered- in a dramatically anti-vegetarian move- foie gras. Evil, wrong, but, “fantastic- full of fruity textures and a hint of walnut”. Or, “like making love to Satan,” as I’d have put it.
And the soup- more cresting pale green sea foam, really, than soup- was only overshadowed by the home-baked pains des mauvans, little hot rolls with ‘burnt grain’ which sounded foul but were actually more addictive than crack. I should have been full, but the main was coming- a quail’s egg tart, with wild mushrooms hidden beneath the little star-burst eggs. It wasn’t a lot, and it didn’t last long, but it shut me up. Sidekick had Cheshire beef- pink as a baby’s bottom, and twice as soft, with celeriac puree. Nobody spoke for ages.
Pudding seemed ridiculous, we were full- but it would have been equally crazy not to, so I had a millefeuille banana parfait- it was faultless, but too cold after the warm bath of tastes and textures we’d been rolling about in- though my lovely companion was delighted with his shot glass of rhubarb cappuccino and mint crème brulee- which was astonishingly minty. Caines has obviously developed some special system to extract the true glory of a herb’s soul from its dull, leafy body.
It was all washed down with a spicy, gentle Rose wine- maybe technically not what we should have ordered to go with soup, beef and banana- but the sommelier was far too polite to raise an eyebrow.
It’s early days- but Caines and the Abode team have taken their time developing this fabulous restaurant, and it shows. So far… so very good indeed.

Michael Caines at ABode Manchester
107 Piccadilly
M1 2DB
0161 200 567
www.abodehotels.co.uk

Best for: everyone who loves good food.
Cost: ££££

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Atlas used to be the darling of Manchester’s bar scene. But it’s relying too heavily on past glories, discovers Andy Murray.

Many moons ago, Atlas was a staple of the Manchester social scene, part of a Whitworth Street West triumvirate, alongside Cornerhouse and the Hacienda. City centre bars were still something of a novelty back then. Nowadays, you can’t move for them, as the nearby Deansgate Locks attests. In the interim, though, Atlas has got rather lost at sea. Right now, it appears to be struggling to retain its character – and, quite possibly, its customers.
To be fair, it looks handsome enough, having benefited from a striking facelift. The problem is, though, that the end result – sofas, lots of wooden fittings, tasteful fabric wall panels, all dark browns and burnt reds – doesn’t really distinguish it from any other bar in the area. It’s pleasantly roomy, though, and the balcony at the far end remains a nifty little spot. Service is attentive, but as was, famously, always the case, the music’s too loud, and during my visit, Seal and Simply Red were on heavy rotation, which only served to reinforce the 90s flashback experience. The clientele are largely older than your average local bar, but slightly thin on the ground, and mostly looked dolled-up, ready to move on elsewhere before long. This lends it the air of a meeting place rather than a final destination.
Drinks are on the expensive side, but that’s only to be expected in this neighbourhood. There’s a good deal of choice as regards shorts and bottles – poppy cider fans, for instance, will be quids in. Cask drinkers, on the other hand, are poorly catered for. There’s a food menu on offer but again, choice is limited, and the results, which aren’t cheap, aren’t especially exciting either. The Moroccan Lamb Burger promises mint and coriander, but in execution it doesn’t have much flavour to it, Moroccan or otherwise. It came with a bland, unexciting salad, which didn’t provide much actual accompaniment to the meal. The pepperoni pizza had an odd, watery topping and tasted no more authentic than the frozen equivalent. Sad to say, the food definitely isn’t something that would bring you back here in a hurry.
After so many years on the scene, Atlas could get left behind. It can still draw a crowd, especially at weekends, but in truth it’s become an unambitious over-spill for Deansgate Locks, whereas it could be doing so much more. It sorely lacks atmosphere, and there’s a faint whiff of desperation, of “Will this do?”, about the place. It’s in a great location, perched at the gateway to (one end of) the city, and the glass front provides a terrific view of the area. For all its current failings, it remains a very appealing venue, full of potential, but if it’s to become anyone’s favourite bar again, it needs to start developing much more sense of individuality, whether in what it has to offer or how it looks. With so many city centre bars to chose from, that’s no easy task. Sadly, considering it’s one of the originals, Atlas isn’t currently one of the best.

376, Deansgate, Manchester, M3 4LY
0161 834 2124

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With the launch of a new Privilege Card service, the Lowry Hotel’s River Restaurant is after the city’s big hitters. Flic Everett takes a dip.

Everyone has a mental image of A Posh Restaurant. It looks a lot like Gusteau’s in Ratatouille. There’s definitely white linen, flickering candles, and hushed, gliding waiters. And in Manchester- (well, strictly speaking, Salford)� the nearest thing is the award-winning River Restaurant at the Lowry Hotel.
I haven’t been there since soon after it opened, when Marco Pierre White was in charge – or “popping in twice a year” as it’s known in the trade- but now the Executive Chef is Eyck Zimmer, and the menu is interesting enough to challenge the palates of local foodies, but robust enough to justify the staggeringly high prices. They may charge between £15 and £25 for a main, but at least they don’t wheel out portions skimpier than Posh’s knicker drawer.
The room itself is big, broken up with Deco mirrors, conifers in giant vases, and drawings of naked ladies. There’s no great visual rhyme or reason, but it exudes a sort of easy luxury that temporarily makes the idea of spending over £150 on a small digestif seem perfectly reasonable. In fact, there’s so much dazzling napery and gleaming cutlery it’s a bit like being in Disney’s Beauty and The Beast, when all the crockery starts singing “Be Our Guest”.
Service, too, is classically old-fashioned, in that there’s absolutely no chance a waiter is going to crouch by the table and call you ‘guys’. They’re so austerely professional, in fact, that we barely noticed as be-suited men came and went in a seamless dance of glass-positioning, fork-removing competence. By the time we’d been nestled into place with a sweeping river view, we were so relaxed that if the chef had come out and tried to convert us to Scientology, we’d have signed up. Obviously, he didn’t, which allowed us to concentrate on the food.
In any Ratatouille-style posh restaurant, an amuse-bouche is essential, and little cups of wild mushroom consommé arrived- lovely, though I’m not normally a big wild mushroom fan. (I always wonder just how sure they are of the difference between safe but interesting fungi, and toxic Flyagaric that will have me hallucinating dancing corpses for the next fortnight).
For my starter, I� ordered Beetroot Carpaccio, because I’ve only ever seen beef carpaccio and was curious. It was sliced so thinly you could read a book through it, supplemented with caramelised hazelnuts, and little fried puffs of goats cheese. Normally I’m sick to bloody death of goats cheese, but this had an unusual, nutty twist that offset the sharp beetroot. My lovely magician’s assistant – alright, my husband- had a black pudding, which he described as “blokey in a good way.”
For the main course, I stuck with the “mushrooms-you-don’t-know” theme, and chose cep ravioli with root vegetables. The pasta was just one delicate parcel, balanced as reverentially on the plate as if it contained a Tiffany diamond, with tiny squares of� sweet potato and parsnip scattered around it like confetti.
I love this sort of attention to styling, though my LMA rather ungratefully commented that the plating-up arrangements were “a bit Eighties.” It hardly mattered either way, as the soft, roasted mushrooms mingled with the silky pasta and a buttery little foam. I know it sounds pornographic, that’s probably because it was.� Grumpy over the table had venison with a barley reduction, and the seared, rare slices looked so meltingly good, even I fancied a bite of Bambi. The spinach side deserves special mention- somehow, all the gritty earthiness of normal spinach had been replaced by a smooth, soft bowl of delight, and I really hated having to share it.
We crammed a couple of puddings in- his crisp Winter crumble beat my Chocolate Financier, which I only ordered because I wondered what on earth it was. Turned out, a brownie with a very fancy ice-cream hat. They were both presented like Joan Miro paintings, with little cubes of this and tiny smears of that, which was very beautiful, but a crumble and a brownie, in my view, should be a little more down to earth.
The only tiny problem with the River Room is not the food, which is, largely, sublime. It’s not the wine- a buttery Californian Chardonnay. It’s definitely not the impeccable service. It’s simply that, for the exceptionally high prices, diners rightly expect a world-class experience. Fine if they can deliver- but somehow, it still has the ambience of a restaurant where Gordon and Tony would shake on a deal, or an aristocratic grandma would gather the clan for her 80th. Because for all its undoubted brilliance, the only thing the River Room lacks is the one thing every posh restaurant needs. A little romance.

The River Bar & Restaurant

The Lowry, 50 Dearmans Place
Chapel Wharf
Manchester M3 5LH

Tel: 0161 827 4000
E-mail: reservations.lowry@
roccofortecollection.com

Best for: Entertaining rich clients

Cost: ££££

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Flic Everett gives Urbis a second chance and ascends to The Modern.

The last time I was at the top of Urbis, things were not good. Etched glass that blocked the majestic view, chilly service and a menu more confusing than killer sudoku made for a thoroughly underwhelming (and expensive) experience. But the bad old days are gone, as indicated by the new restaurant’s name; The Modern.
The starchy tablecloths have vanished too, and while the etched glass remains, at least the room is arranged to allow for the maximum view. It’s now all soothing tones of dark brown and cream, with a sweeping glass and metal staircase up to the bar. It does look modern, without being so tiresomely hip it’ll all be over by next Wednesday. So far, it’s the perfect place for a romantic date with someone you don’t know very well. Sadly, I know my husband extremely well (that’s what ten years of enforced proximity will do to a couple) and we were so tired, it was fortunate that we had both the cityscape and a ridiculously handsome waiter to look at. (I tried to disguise my admiration, but apparently my inadvertent giggling when he brought the bread gave it away.)
Luckily, the wines, of which plenty come by the glass, perked us up. The choices were varied and, yes, modern, and the bread came piled high and warm. I can’t count the restaurants which make a huge operatic production of serving one chilly roll with silver tongs as if it contains the map co-ordinates of the Holy Grail. Here, they just painlessly put a basket on the table.
The menu is locally sourced where possible, and seasonal. The choices are interesting, but if you’re a vegetarian, like me, somewhat limited. The starters offered two meat-free options, but as I hate both new potatoes and Rosemary, I ordered the plate of local cheeses with crumbly cakes from the dessert menu, and was truly removed from my humdrum life and transported to a place of happiness with one bite of the fabulous little cake, topped with five different cheeses and a spot of accompanying honey. It was one of the best starters I’ve ever had, even though it wasn’t actually a starter. Simon steamed into his pressed terrine of Mrs Kirkhams’ Lancashire cheese and ham hock, and claimed that the accompanying toast was “proper and big, not that stupid melba stuff.”
The peace and quiet, the calming tones and the exemplary service were all boosting the romance factor. If you were on a new date, this would be where you’d start talking about your tentative hopes and dreams. We just talked about work again, but that wasn’t the Modern’s fault.
The mains were delivered swiftly- my roasted pumpkin and goats cheese tart, with a side of fat-cut chips, had the texture of velvety soup, and was jewelled with little bits of amber pumpkin. The pastry was crisp as a winter’s morning in Bolton, and the chips were ‘winch-them-off-the-sofa’ fat.
My lovely assistant had venison stew, with creamed potatoes and a juniper and thyme jus- (though is a jus really modern, or is it a bit of 90s-speak for gravy?) He cleared his plate, and his evident delight in the venison should make any deer reading this feel quite nervous.
I couldn’t fit in pudding, even though Simon argued that reviewers must have pudding or it’s cheating. It probably is, but I countered that my cheese was really a pudding, and he gave up. He somehow found room for marmalade sponge, which came shaped like a little pie, and was suitably melting and orangey.
The handsome waiter then scored further points by offering mint tea with real mint leaves for me, and was pleasant, helpful, kind to fussy vegetarians, and easy on the eye throughout. For a date that feels glamorous without being stressful, and expensive without being bank-breaking, you can’t do better than The Modern. I never thought I’d go back to the top of Urbis willingly, but times have changed. Move on.
ends

The Modern Bar and Restaurant
Urbis, Cathedral Gardens, Manchester, M4 3BG
0161 605 8200
www.themodernmcr.co.uk

Best for: A romantic date

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Steve Stewart feels the heat at the new Tampopo.
As Manchester institutions go, the original Tampopo on Albert Square is tough proposition to beat on its own terms– a lean city centre café supplying fresh Pan-Asian market food, served quickly for those on the way on to somewhere else.
Never what you might call a destination restaurant, it’s nonetheless just what Manchester’s grazing urbanites need, particularly those ex-travellers who’ve sampled the food on offer in its natural environment. Service is brisk and food cooked to order. And best of all, it’s dropped in front of you in just a few minutes, proving fast food can be healthy if you choose wisely. It’s become as much a fixture and fitting of the city as the Town Hall just over the square.
The latest Tampopo, straddling both the inside and outside of the still rather lifeless Triangle Shopping Centre, is the fifth in an expanding portfolio that takes in Leeds, London and even The Trafford Centre. And believe me, if you’re stuck in that retail hinterland, a bowl of steaming ramen can almost make the whole shopping expedition worthwhile. Almost.
Another basement venture that you have to drop down into, the entrance to the new gaff – opposite Next in the city centre – leads to an open space of long tables, similar to the Albert Square original.
The menu has been slightly tweaked to keep things fresh and, though by no means radical, it’s enough to make a difference and justify the journey down Cross Street. It’s hardly backpacking along the Mekong River, but still.
For starters we picked Yasai Gyoza and new addition, Sesame Prawn Skewers. The former were perfectly acceptable vegetarian dumplings stuffed with water chestnuts and bamboo shoot, given a needed piquancy by a soy dip. The latter were freshly grilled and skewered and might satiate the hunter-gatherer in you if you were a hungry Pygmy.
Main courses kicked off with a noodle soup called Laksa, which is a fierce coconut-tinged broth of a deep yellow hue. The first few tastes were gorgeous, but it quickly became too much of a good thing- the prospect of a huge bowlful of highly-flavoured thick broth meant it was impossible to finish. Too full, too much.
The Vietnamese Com Hue rice dish with prawns was an awful lot better, the flavours of lemongrass and coriander lying nicely over toasted sesame seeds. An altogether better choice. A second visit a week later gave us the opportunity to try the rather comical sounding Pad Krapow, which is a treat for all heat fans; as it’s basically quick fried prawns in chilli with a touch of Asian basil. Guaranteed to destroy even MRSA and that bloody new bug doing the rounds. A real alternative medicine.
Puddings involved a Ginger Crème Brulee, and a devilish Chocolate Ice Cream, but by that time it was all over bar the shouting.
Not an earth shattering experience, despite the attentive service, but as dependable and tasty as any market food you could wish for. A worthy addition to the city’s portfolio of cool little casual-dining haunts.

Tampopo
Unit 2, Triangle, Exchange Square, City Centre
M4 3TR
Tel: 0871 961 4816
Website.: www.tampopo.co.uk

Best For: a quick, casual catch-up.

Cost: ££

***

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SIMPLE
SMITHFIELD BUILDINGS,
TIB STREET, M4 1LA
TEL: 0870 757 1996

AVERAGE COST PER HEAD £5.50 for a cocktail
STYLE Contemporary, Cool & Relaxed
BEST FOR Unpretentious Drinks, Good Service

When it comes to the Manchester bar scene, simplicity is not a word that immediately springs to mind. From unnecessary dress codes to cocktail menus that read like the city’s phonebook, getting a drink in the city centre can be a bit of an ordeal; and that’s even before you find yourself crying into your wallet when the bill arrives. With this in mind, my partner and I were keen to discover something a little bit different and at Simple I think we’ve found it.

Now, I must confess, this review wasn’t my first time visiting Simple but in the few months since I last visited there has been something of a transformation in both the look and feel of the venue. Located just a stone’s throw from the NQ’s more vocal neighbours, the redecorated Simple is a case in point for evolution as opposed to revolution in city drinking. Where the Simple of old was more, well, sleek and simple, the refurbished venue has taken on a more living room feel with attractively patterned wallpaper, gilt mirrors and faux chandeliers. Whilst these might seem like odd ideas for a city centre bar, they combine perfectly with the sumptuously inviting leather sofas that fill the main bar. Having sunk into our sofa, we were relaxed and ready to tackle the first round.

First up for me was a Cosmopolitan whilst my partner opted for a Mojito. After all, if you can get the basics right, the rest follows naturally. And get it right they did. My Cosmopolitan was stronger than some I’ve had before which might not have been to all tastes but for me, it was perfect. The Cosmo is invariably a sharp, short cocktail and this strong blend of good vodka, Cointreau and cranberry really hit the spot; not least as the bartender had been careful not to galvanise the bitterness of the orange liquor with too much oil from the decorative rind. Very refreshing indeed. My partner’s Mojito came very classic as well with perfectly muddled sprigs of earthy mint giving a fresh taste to the sugared rum. I have to say,
I have seen more attractively presented Mojito’s but rarely have I tasted this cocktail balanced so perfectly with the rum taking centre stage ahead of the potentially overpowering mint.

Having sampled Simple’s take on old style, we opted for a twisted classic and signature cocktail for our second round. My partner was intrigued enough by the Espresso Martini to take the plunge whilst I went for the Simple Pleasure which was the fruitiest option on the menu. My partner and I are both fans of good Martini’s and the cocktail that arrived before us was quite unlike anything we’d seen before. Served cold with an indulgently thick reddish-brown crema, this blend of espresso, vodka, kahlua and hazlenut syrup cut an odd but elegant figure in its shallow martini glass. And it tasted fantastic with just a whisper of the liquor biting through the rich, Italian blend with a lingering hint of botanical gin. One for the adults, certainly. The Simple Pleasure was an unusual blend for a signature cocktail, relying more on fruit flavours than hard notes of liquor but with Plymouth gin bolstered by a decent dash of raspberry liqueur and a very crisp apple juice served long and cold, this turned out to be an excellent and uniquely English
sun downer.

Overall, the refurbished Simple is an excellent counterpoint to the increasingly audacious bar scene of the Northern Quarter. Although the cocktail menu itself boasted only five options, it’s refreshing to find a bar that doesn’t feel the need to be unnecessarily eclectic in its offering to keep up with the Jones’. With a relaxed clientele, attentive service and an unpretentious atmosphere that left the mixing to be the star of the show, Simple certainly deserves its tag as the bar at the very heart of the Northern Quarter.

Oli Lill.

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GOURMET BURGER KITCHEN
Unit B6 Left Bank, Spinningfields,
Bridge ST, M3 3ER
TEL: 0161 832 2719

AVERAGE COST PER HEAD £10 for a burger, chips and a drink
STYLE casual burger munching
BEST FOR A quick bite with friends

Burgers aren’t something I often order, simply because so many people get it wrong in so many ways. So in my journey to find the perfect burger I ventured to the newly opened Gourmet Burger Kitchen. I have so say – as always – it was a pretty wet and miserable Tuesday evening when a friend and I ventured down to the new Spinningfields development. At this point in time I didn’t feel totally at ease in that area of the development, there was no real atmosphere yet and there weren’t really any people around at all, but that should all change when all of the units are open. When we arrived at GBK it was surprisingly busy when you think about how deathly quite it was outside, but that was a good sign to me a good place to start.

For those of you who think that the Gourmet part of the venues name relates to the interior, service and wine list you would be very wrong. This is a simple laid back venue similar to Pizza Express or Nandos; but the one thing that GBK has over some other venues in Manchester is the view. The venue looks out onto the River Irwell and I can image on a some what finer day it would be a great place to sit back and enjoy the view, but with the dark and dismal rain I kept my attention inside the restaurant. The interior of GBK is sleek, clean and basic but it doesn’t really need to be anything else. We took a table near the window and our helpful waitress brought over the menu. At this point I had to use the bathroom and this isn’t something I would normally mention in a review but I had to use the disabled toilets upstairs and they weren’t really in a great condition.
I won’t go into too much detail but let’s just say it didn’t have all the amenities that I needed.

On to the food. Obviously if you want something other than a beef burger you should give GBK a miss, however if you like burgers and you feel you can be adventurous about how they are served my goodness do they have a good selection. I decided to go for the Cajun burger whilst my dinner companion went for the Blue Cheese. Both burgers where served within around 15 minutes but it didn’t feel long at all with a reasonably priced bottle of red wine to keep us entertained.

When the burgers did arrive I couldn’t believe how big they where, I knew instantly this could end up messy. The Cajun burger had a spicy kick that wasn’t in anyway overwhelming, with a delicate heat and a smoky mellow flavour throughout. For my dining partner her Blue Cheese burger certainly didn’t disappoint either, she was happy to see that the blue cheese was dressing on the burger and not just a slab of the strong stuff. Both burgers where equally as tasty, meaty, succulent and messy as each other and a real joy to eat. The side order of fries that came with their own homemade garlic mayo was divine, even if we did feel a little naughty tucking into those
as well.

Even with my toilet disappointment I felt it would be a little harsh to hold that against GBK since I had had such a nice evening there. This is most definitely a casual dinning venue, the service was very good, but be prepare to order at the bar for all those who expect full table service. The wine menu is adequate, the desert menu was a little disappointing but at the end of the day that’s not what this venue is about. Burgers are the key to The Gourmet Burger Kitchens charm and if they carry on to produce them to the standard we experienced; they shouldn’t have too many problems doing well in Manchester.

Natalie Quinn.

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