CityLife

The Glasshouse

TIME was when spending a weekend break in Manchester was as appealing as going on a sunshine holiday to Mogadishu.
 

But one of the most successful spin-offs of our city transforming itself into a vibrant European metropolis is that it now comes high up in the league for city breaks – only last month another poll had it as the best all-round weekend destination in the UK.
 

And though it is a ‘chicken or egg’ conundrum, that popularity has spawned the boom in hotels since the millennium – the latest addition being the swish Crowne Plaza on Shudehill, which opened in September.
 

To be honest, this artery into the city still has a hint of Mogadishu about it. In front of the achingly modernist hotel are boarded up windows in a terrace that includes a tattoo parlour and the type of convenience store where the shopkeeper has a lucky baseball bat to keep him company behind the counter.

Bird's nesty lightshades

 But the Crowne Plaza is obviously looking a little further afield, to the encroaching Northern Quarter just behind it, for company, trade, and most probably inspiration in terms of the quirky, contemporary décor (the bird’s nesty lightshades in reception and bar are identical to those in Walrus around the corner).

I suppose you don’t automatically think of Crowne Plaza hotels as places to eat – up-market convenience, yes, top-end cuisine, no – though their place in London’s Blackfriars encompasses the highly-regarded restaurant Refettorio, directed by one of the country’s best Italian chefs, Giorgio Locatelli.

 Manchester’s Crowne Plaza has The Glasshouse and the man at the helm is 34-year-old Karl Bittner.

 Bittner – who has worked in the kitchens at Harvey Nichols and City Inn – describes The Glasshouse as a ‘destination restaurant and bar’ on its website, by which, like Refettorio, he means he would like non-residents to flock here and it to become a place to go for fine dining in its own right.

Angular and cool

The designers certainly have tried hard to impress. Both inside and out the hotel has the look of a modern art gallery, in turns minimal and stark, angular and cool, with slashes of colour here and there to break up the industrial tones.

The same steel-grey floor tiles in the slightly cold reception flow into the laid-back bar area with high tables, low sofas and an iceberg white bar. A classy environment only disturbed by a huge flat-screen telly on one wall flickering out Sky Sports News.

Despite it being on mute, I still didn’t want to be distracted by Steve Bruce banging on about the finer points of Emile Heskey’s groin strain while sipping my aperitif.

More appealingly, overlooking the bar and eating area behind it is a private dining room that looks like the lair of a Bond villain.
 

Submarine grey

The Crowne Plaza does a good job of disguising the fact that their restaurant will be the scene of businessmen chomping down muesli eight hours from when you are eating dinner.

The modernist feel flows through to it with a bank of mirrors beneath a submarine grey wall, opposite a row of floor to ceiling windows from which The Glasshouse obviously takes its name.

We were in a comfy, cream leather booth to one side of a room of charcoal grey tables and chairs, the only slight discomfort coming from the overly harsh brightness of the funky lights overhead.

 But at least I could read the menus, the a-la-carte which is seasonal and the table d’hote which changes, apparently, every few days and is named the Mancunian Menu.

Heavenly artichoke

Both are modern British in nature, with touches of French and other cuisines (a tangine here, noodles and bok choi there). They are also bold – Bittner is obviously aiming high.
 

I stuck to the a-la-carte, my Mancunian friend coming on all civic and going for the £19.95 menu for three courses, with coffee.
 

 A nice touch was the unheralded pre-starter, a cube of dauphinoise potato layered with mushroom and heavenly artichoke.
 

The Glasshouse’s cousin, Refettorio, is this week offering a parmesan risotto with shavings from newly arrived white truffle for £45 a pop – I really hope they get the rice right.
 

 I tried a starter of the Glasshouse’s risotto – a seafood variety for a more digestible £6, with mussels and razor clams – and they certainly did get that rice right, nutty and substantial, and golden with saffron.
 

Pillows of silky pasta

There were nice mussels and a toothsome whip of clam meat, though it may have been the accompanying chorizo oil that knocked out the whiff of seaside that I especially like.
 

Opposite was oxtail ravioli – three pillows of silky pasta filled with intense, herby meat.
 

The season was reflected in the mains and I bagged roasted squab (£17.50). The baby pigeon’s tender meat came pink and had a livery taste to it.
 

There was a lovely mini confit leg, too, with its slight saltiness leavened by sweetness from a ginger jus.
 

An ambitious and beautifully crafted dish, especially with the accompanying luxurious croustillant of foie gras, even though I am no fan of ‘hot salad’ which lay shredded on the side.
 

Black cherry intensity

The wine list is surprisingly good value, with half the bottles costing under £20. We chose a French pinot noir, from Rothschild, at £17.75.
 

 It was advertised as 2005 but the waiter brought a 2007, a lesser year say those in the know, but it was rather nice with a big, black cherry intensity.
 

The rest of the service – for which 10 per cent is added to the bill – was generally good, if not specialist.

Our cheerful, though a little nervous, waiter admitted it was the first time he had popped a cork here and was more used to squeezing grapefruit on a morning shift.
 

Toblerone torte

 There was no grapefruit on the dessert menu, though raspberry and lemon featured in my Glasshouse Jewels (£5.50), a trio of mini desserts that comprised Toblerone torte, raspberry sorbet and lemon tart.

They followed the evening’s trend of pretty presentation with the tart taking the biscuit, as it were.
 

 But they were all far superior to the unfortunate buttermilk pancakes (£5.50) across the table.

They had the shape and consistency of old men’s ears – you certainly wouldn’t want to nibble them – though the chocolate sorbet they arrived with was pleasant enough.
 

And pleasant enough was a fitting tribute to the whole evening. It wasn’t perfect but the Crowne Plaza and Karl Bittner are obviously trying very hard – it is certainly a good addition to the city’s hotel scene.

And so this wasn’t a Glasshouse at which I’d want to throw stones.
 

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