Mana

Mana is proof that Manchester has matured into a world-class city. When Warrington-born, former-Noma chef Simon Martin opened this fine-dining restaurant in 2018, he caught the start of a wave that saw the city’s food and drink scene transformed from something decent into something remarkable. Mana is the crest of that wave.

It’s an uncompromising experience from beginning to end. There’s one menu – no vegan, no lactose-free, no anything that isn’t the pure distilled vision of Martin and his crack team of cooking aces. And, whisper it, there’s something wickedly thrilling about that. 

The chefs cook everything a few metres from your table, in full view, bellowing “YES CHEF!” every few minutes. Amusing considering the otherwise elegant, sedate surroundings, but also a sign these maestros don’t muck about, to paraphrase Kersal Massive. 

There’s a laser-focused pride to everything that happens here and a sense that every element is the best that Manchester has to offer. Even the decor is ahead of its time: none of that common-or-garden exposed brickwork and piping look, here it’s all clean lines and unfussy Nordic-style design, with warm, welcoming lighting. 

All well and good, but we’re not Architectural Digest – how’s the food? 

The meal begins with an ice-cold oyster, speckled with sage-green iced ‘sherbert’, and navigates through locally sourced seafood, seasonal vegetables, ethically-reared meat and spectacular desserts. There are around a dozen different courses, give or take a few surprise treats (you’ll roar with delight when you see the unexpected petit fours). 

Tastewise, this summertime menu explores the parallels between Japan and Britain, combining intricate preparation with bold flavours from the local countryside and the UK seas. 

Highlights include the chawanmushi – delicate savoury egg custard, topped with three thick slices of North Sea scallop. A dish so deep-down satisfying that if you don’t groan while tasting it, you’re dead inside.  

A procession of elaborate, diminutive courses reaches a crescendo with the sojae-cured hogget (AKA lamb that has celebrated its first birthday). It’s a demanding cut of meat to cook, gauged only by ‘vibes’. Once sliced, if it hasn’t been cooked correctly, goodnight Vienna. As such, this task is given to one lone, expert soldier, who must surely see hogget in his dreams. His ovine expertise is our gain – it’s perfect, with the optimum thick, crispy layer of salty fat. 

Special mention should go to the accompanying pastry cylinder, made with croissant dough and flavoured with a Roscoff onion glaze. Team that up with some herb-dusted butter and a scoop of savoury sabayon (a miso-infused twist on the classic Italian dessert), and you have a main course that deserves every second of its moment in the spotlight. 

The pre-dessert beetroot dish is another memorable Rube Goldberg-style creation, inspired by, you guessed it, Babybel. Not to spoil the illusion, but it involves Italian meringue mixed with light, creamy cheese, then frozen into a hockey puck shape and dipped in beetroot emulsion to look like wax. Oh, and it’s served with a Danish wine called Ribes Nigrum that tastes exactly like fizzy Ribena.

Speaking of which, half the fun comes from the paired drinks menus – there are two, alcohol and soft drinks, so take a mate and share as each contains some of the most outlandish and fascinating beverages you’ll find anywhere in the North.

Nodding to the Japanese influence on the menu, we’re treated to things like sake so pure it looks (and feels) like milk, and a thick soup-like green tea, alongside some delicious and less-well-known wines. All elevate the paired dish, like some kind of olfactory sorcery. 

As tiresome as the whole Michelin star saga can be, Mana doesn’t just deserve the star it was awarded in 2019 (and retained every year since); it merits one more, at least. If this isn’t “cooking elevated to an art form”, what is?