CityLife

Obsidian

Obsidian
Manchester city centre
October 2009

Average three-course cost: £35

Overall: 4/5
Decor: 4/5, Service: 4/5, Food: 5/5

WHERE would fine dining be in the city centre without hotels? Almost non-existent.

Michael Caines at Abode, City Café at City Inn, The Lowry’s River Room, The Midland’s French, Podium at the Hilton, the Glasshouse at the Radisson – I could go on. They all keep the standard of cuisine in the city centre pretty high and you can now add another largely forgotten name to the list: Obsidian, at the Arora hotel.

The Arora immodestly bills its restaurant as ‘putting the wow back into Manchester dining’. I wouldn’t disagree, though the word ‘wag’ in the middle of that spiel might be more appropriate. I am sure this place, with its blingy but still classy makeover, bird-like food portions and stiff prices will draw the wives and girlfriends of moneyed men from far and wide.

For myself, there are two things that put this newly-refurbished restaurant in the top bracket of dining out in the city: the food, and the fact that you probably wouldn’t know you were in a hotel at all.

Relaxing

Hermetically sealed from the bedrooms – filled this past week no doubt with middle-ranking Tories – Obsidian is successful at staying arms length from the trouser presses and wake-up calls. It even has its own entrance on Princess Street to the basement area: right for the bar, left to dine.
 
Before a six-figure sum was thrown at the place ahead of its fifth birthday a couple of weeks ago, the bar and restaurant sat together awkwardly. Now a wall separates them, though you still hear a soft, pleasant buzz from the cocktail quaffers while you eat.
 
The low-ceilinged restaurant is pure Audrey Hepburn – petite, sexy and dressed in black – with hints of cream and purple too, and you take a seat on leather or velvet. While not exactly breaking new ground, it feels both expensive and relaxing.
 
You are left in no doubt about the financial commitment to the refurb and they haven’t sold the kitchen short either. Head chef Bryn Evans has been beavering away here for a number of months now, working up to the restaurant relaunch.

Terrific ingredients

Baby-faced Bryn has worked at some top places, including Chester Grosvenor and Altrincham’s long-lost Juniper – and his menu is, at first glance, ambitious. Two initial warnings, though.

Prices are steep – though not ludicrously so and there are website discounts available for the keen eyed. Also, don’t skip lunch if you book in for an evening meal. This is flavour-heavy food but not, well... heavy.

A wag with the digestive system of a meerkat will love the portions, though I reckon an enterprising burger van man should set up shop on the pavement outside to supply her boyfriend with some ballast on the way home.
 
But if you are here for taste and texture and some terrific ingredients, Bryn’s seasonal menu will make your autumn.
 
Intense

After bread and crushed olives, I kicked off with a circle of confit rabbit, moist and more rabbity that Roger’s bobtail it was wrapped around the outside with a luxurious, deep red, snaky sliver of smoked eel (£10).

They married well with a subtle sootiness to the fish. Bryn also added a well-balanced horseradish cream, and a hint of orange.
Opposite landed five beautiful slices of duck (£10) with an intense beetroot jelly. The ying of that velvety soft meat held hands with the yang of toothsome puy lentils.

The wine list hasn’t many bottles for below £20 but our pleasant Fleurie La Cerisaie Mommessin wasn’t bad value at £22.50. We were topped up by a couple of down-to-earth and friendly waitresses, though there was still a touch of hotel reception-desk insincerity around the slightly stiff smile.

Powerful

Cumbrian venison (£20) followed our head-clearing, juicy, passion fruit granita. I had five supreme slices with an individual mini shepherd’s pie, sweet chestnut mingling with its rich meat – and a confident smear of dark chocolate around the side. Wonderful.

The presentation of my companion’s slices of sturdy roasted monkfish (£18), complete with little nuggets of powerful chorizo in a matching foam, like all of the dishes, was on the right side of fussy.

A colleague recommended the Valrhona chocolate soufflé, but still in need of bulk we chose three cheeses (£7) from Obsidian’s exceptional list – Golden Cross, Livarot and Bleu d’ Auvergne. Hell you can try all 13 for £27! They came with smartly snappable biscuits and heavy, sweet quince gel that oozed the odour of the farmyard.
Obsidian could definitely become an obsession.

Obsidian, 24 Princess Street, Manchester, M1 4LY (0161 238 4348, obsidianmanchester.co.uk).

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