CityLife

Rosso Restaurant

Rosso

Rosso
City centre
December 2009

Average three-course cost: £26.50

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

KNOCKING soccer stars and their inflated pay packets is a popular pastime. Yes, the wages of top professionals can be obscene, a few behave appallingly and excess of wealth easily buys you terrible taste – but surely they aren’t all like that.

However, I wasn’t reassured about Rosso – United and England defender Rio Ferdinand’s new Italian on King Street – when I walked past on its opening night a few weeks ago.

The parking bays in front of the grand building had been reserved for guests and a few hundred thousand pounds’ worth of metal and rubber was occupying them.

So I was pleasantly surprised when I had a meal there that Rosso wasn’t wall-to-wall blondes and bling; all Cheshire set and spaghetti.

Rio and his hands-on partner Adam Karim, who ran a cut-price Indian restaurant in the same building (that also was once Establishment), promised the new restaurant would be ‘relaxed’ but classy – and that seems to be the case.

There were a few wag-types, but people were rolling up in jeans and there were a couple of families with hyperactive children chomping on garlic bread.

And the food prices were not Cheshire set – even though the place has obviously had a footballer’s salary thrown at the elegant décor.

Though largely contemporary – lots of red, as you would expect, and beautiful statement flowers – the revamp feels nicely in keeping with a gorgeous Victorian bank interior that boasts pink granite, marble the colour of dolcelatte and two awesome domes.

Superb

The first thing that hits you after the impressive interior is the bustle.

It has the slight feel of a hotel lobby when you walk in, with diners sitting around a striking open fire waiting for tables, drinkers standing at the milk white marble and glass bar, and a veritable football team of staff ready to tackle you when you arrive. First line of attack are the managers: middle-aged, grey suits, red ties, all Italian, with smiles, guiding hands on your shoulder, and eyes darting to the next people through the door.

Then comes the defence: black-aproned waiters – many, reassuringly, past their 25th birthdays – attentive but not circling and with charm as well as expertise.

Rio is used to strength in depth, and this is certainly not a cut-price, front-of-house operation. It was one of the only times I’ve not resented the compulsory arm-twist of a 10 per cent service charge on the bill.

It beats the arrogance at Stock or nonchalance of San Carlo, the two other big-hitting Italian restaurants nearby.

And Rosso’s menu is very Italian, with fish-heavy specials, one of which was sardines (£6.50).

A trio of them arrived, plump and lightly grilled, set off by a salsa that had a subtle southern kick of chilli, and a rocket and starfruit salad which didn’t feel like an afterthought.

I wasn’t short-changed either, with one of the best risottos (£6.25) I’ve had outside the ‘old country’.

It was good-sized for a starter, hidding complex flavours among its mushrooms, with a hint of truffle; not too creamy and with that superb, fluffy but substantial texture you only really get with carnaroli, the king of rices.

There was truffle, too, in the overly soft potato mash with my 8oz fillet of beef (£19.95), which was good, though not divine, and cooked medium rare with precision.

Not perfect

I largely associate lamb shank with Blighty, but the stinco d’agnello (£13.50), showed that the Italians know how to slow-cook their meat. This one was done in amarone, a full-bodied wine, and the flaky meat had a herby edge. It came with autumnal root veg and dinky, festive parsnip crisps.

We didn’t really need the side of French beans (£2.95).

The only real access to wine under £20 are the five different house wines for £14.95, including a rose. We had the cabernet sauvignon, from the Veneto region, which was fine.

Desserts seem a little unambitious – some would say ‘classic’ – and my traditional pannacotta (£4.95) reflected this, ticking all the right boxes and with a spiky fruit coulis, without quickening the heart.

We also shared four Italian cheeses – £5.95 for a pecorino, a goat’s, dolcelatte and parmesan, which – was also a little yawnsome. They came with celery – which should be banned from cheeseboards worldwide.

An Italian barbers’ I used to visit had black and white photos of famous Italians and Italian Americans on its yellowing walls. Rosso goes in for this too.

Given the circumstances, I was surprised to see just one footballer among them.

It was Roberto Baggio, whose glittering career included a World Cup Final penalty miss, which the Italians eventually forgave.

Marvellous, but not perfect – a little like Rosso.

Rosso, 43 Spring Gardens, Manchester M2 2BG (0161 832 1400, rossorestaurants.com).