CityLife

Australasia

Australasia
Spinningfields
July 2011

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

It is hard to imagine that anything strictly ‘new’ could land in Manchester in terms of cuisine – apart, of course, that elusive Michelin star. If you search it out, you can find food from dozens of countries, though not all of it good.

One chap recently completed his task of eating out ‘around the world in 80 dishes’ without leaving Greater Manchester. He cheated a couple of times, but the point was largely made – our city region is incredibly cosmopolitan.

However, one huge country with deep British links, a common language and similar drinking habits is woefully under-represented. No, not Canada – what do Canadians eat anyway? Elk?

Think Australia.

If you haven’t been to Oz, you might believe that the food there is all barbecued crocodile steaks, kangaroo tail soup, lamingtons and Vegemite sandwiches.
 
New Spinningfields restaurant and bar Australasia shoots that particular dingo with a menu that epitomises Australia’s modern cuisine, which can be summed up as multicultural, fresh, light and unpretentious.

For 150 years after colonisation, Australia’s food was solidly British: meat and three veg (they always liked their greens more than us), stews and stodgy puddings. But since the end of World War Two, waves of immigration – first the Italians and then from Asia – and better refrigeration and transport links have meant the country developed its own unique food style.

Australasia attempts to show that off, not least because the boss of owners Living Ventures – the Manchester-based powerhouse behind the Blackhouse Grill and Gusto chains, and formerly Living Room – is from Down Under.

Managing director Tim Bacon was raised in Australia but since arriving on our shores 18 years ago has wanted to showcase how far Australia’s cuisine has shifted from The Sullivans era. And when you visit Australasia, you are made to feel like you are literally going on a trip down under, descending into the depths under Deansgate on a staircase with art on the walls that looks like colourful rock strata.

In the restaurant there you are given a menu that is designed like a passport. Your passport to the meal of a lifetime? Not exactly, but it is a great addition to the city in terms of the venue and its food.

Australasia’s triangular glass entrance looks in front of the Armani building like the doorway to a futuristic tomb. But the tomb in question is actually the bowels of the M.E.N.’s last building but one.

The bones of it are still visible in the steel framework, beamed ceiling and brick walls, but a new suntanned skin of a supercool bar and restaurant has been grafted on top.

And make no mistake, even though a lot of brain has been used in the restaurant, the bar is the beating heart of the venue.

Those brains behind the menu is Paul Greening, a former Young Australian Chef of the Year. Many believed he would be leading the kitchen too, but after only a couple of weeks of operation, Greening left. Living Ventures says this was always the plan and that he is still a consultant chef for Australasia.

The man charged with putting Greenings menu into practise is Living Venture’s executive chef John Branagan, and there is a spotlight on his work... literally.

Because Australasia has 12ft windows in front of the most open kitchen I’ve ever seen. Eat at the far end of the restaurant or visit the loos and it is like looking at one of those plate glass enclosures at Chester Zoo. You can see the whites of your chef’s eyes as he plates up. I’m sure it prevented one or two animated rows in the fretful weeks after launch.

The rest of the venue is an absolute triumph when you consider the subterranean location.

Despite no natural light, it feels as bright and airy as a Melbourne morning. There  are multiple shades of white and cream, lighting that is both subtle and all-pervading, strange dead trees that looked bleached white by some unrelenting desert sun. It all gives a feeling of warmth and that famous Australian sunshine lifestyle.

The furniture in the deceivingly long, oblong room put me in mind of a posh colonial conservatory and they have the comfiest booths in either hemisphere.
The place is roughly one-third bar, two-thirds restaurant and the drinks side is also lavish, with uplit tables and a sci-fi DJ booth that is straight out of Tom Cruise blockbuster, Minority Report.

Not surprisingly with the bar looming so large over proceedings, the restaurant has a laid back air.

One half of the tables have tablecloths, the rest are bistro bare, and the numerous waiting staff are dressed down in unisex open-necked grey shirts, jeans and aprons with the meeters and greeters and management in more upscale attire.

When we asked our drinks waitress for the wine list, she produced an iPad, with an extensive list to scroll down.

Okay, it is a gimmick, but a pretty good one. However, after a couple of minutes trying to load up Angry Birds, we decided on the house wine.

When our glasses of the unnamed sauvignon blanc (£5.75 250ml) arrived, one was visibly chilled, the other definitely not, which we found a little strange.

Australasia describes the menu as ‘Pacific Rim flavours underpinned by European cooking tradition’ and there is a fine selection of sushi and sashimi, tempura, Asian soups and salads and mains with a good span in both price-range and latitude.

I’ve heard excellent reports about the sushi but we shared a couple of tempura dishes: chilli-seasoned soft shell crab and courgette flowers (£12.50) and squid with green chilli and fresh lime (£8.50).

Two dishes arrived together with a bowl of dipping sauce and a little cone of grated daikon, the Japanese white radish with a light, peppery flavour – unfortunately, one dish was prawns so we had to wait a few minutes while our squid was fried up, rather ruining the effect.

On our plate was about three-quarters of a crab with an expertly crisp skin of ever so slightly greasy tempura. I like tempura hotter than Ayers Rock at midday but ours was 9am at best, but the crab itself was excellent: juicy, delicately sweet, fresh and light. The courgette flower was nicely crisp and full of flavour, perfectly preserved in its knobbly batter shell, too.

The squid, when it arrived properly furnace hot, was an also-ran in comparison.

For main, my companion  went for cannon of lamb with hickory aubergine, endamame and wild herbs (£19.50). The boneless loin meat was juicy and pink and married well with the fan of pureed aubergine, with a nice hint of woodsmoke from the hickory suggesting a very smart Aussie barbie.

I was less taken with my roasted barramundi and mitsuba toast with scallops, clams and vegetable noodles (£19.50).

The fish – fresh water and a native of Aussie rivers – was cooked right, with firm, white, sweetish flesh very much like seabass and was complemented by the slightly bitter Japanese parsley crusting.

It came with a single, rather tepid scallop and a few clams along with the vegetables but it was the broth that it all sat in that I took against – it felt like a great dish plonked in a puddle.

I felt we were slightly badgered into ordering a side and the potato chips which arrived were hugely over-seasoned.

The dessert menu reads fantastically well. We shared a superb mango souffle with coconut ice cream and mango soup (£7).

The generous ‘soup’, a thin, super-sweet sauce, with more citrus than a factory of Opal Fruits, was poured into a hole which I fashioned in the top of the pristine souffle. The ice cream, although rather too quick to melt, was great with it.

We were eating late. The offer of a table either at 6pm or 9.45pm showed the popularity of the place and we went for the latter. But that meant we were still eating at 11 when the restaurant becomes an overflow to the bar, which has a 3am licence at the weekend.

Our waiter offered apologies when the tables round us filled with drinkers – good-looking champagne drinkers, it has to be said. We weren’t bothered,
although I guess some diners might be.

But I reckon they shouldn’t. Australasia has more of an accent on fun than fine dining. A place where the well-heeled – and those pretending to be for one night at least – come to enjoy an exotic escape.

And that’s in keeping. After all, don’t we secretly believe the Aussies pack more fun into their beach bag of life?

Australasia, 1 The Avenue, Spinningfields, M3 3AP (0161 831 0288, australasia.uk.com).

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