9 March 2012

Neil Sowerby samples the delights of Jamie Oliver’s casual Italian diner on King Street….

Jamie Oliver’s exuberant veteran Italian mentor came up to launch the latest outpost of the Essex boy’s Italophile chain and talked me through the various sizes of plank available – from the modest large splinter that carries a single antipasti serving (£6.85 a person) to the cricket-bat-sized paddle that could handle the most man-sized main and more.

If I remember correctly from Gennaro’s torrent of words, they are hand-carved from seasoned English oak by a Sussex master craftsman. Easy to clean, there are no health and safety issues. I rushed home eager to see if I could purchase one at www.jamieoliver.com. Here though, all wooden boards appeared to be from American oak, even the Antipasti Pebble Platter, designed by the chef himself – apparently to look like a boot rack.

It may go against the grain that I can understand the purpose of the Jamie Oliver Big Fat Chopping Board With Adjustable Finger Guard (widely available) without appreciating the planks. They are just playful affectation in what is carefully planned as part of a laid-back dining experience. Like plates named “The World’s Best Olives On Ice” (£3.75 and not quite) or “Jamie’s Favourite Turkey Milanese” (£12.25).

I loved all the hype when I first visited a Jamie’s Italian – four years ago, Brighton, buzzy branch number four. With the spectacular Manchester venue the chain has nearly 30 outlets, and the strain is beginning to show. Mind, it will take a lot of misfiring in the kitchen and front of house to dent the wave of affection for the Oliver Brand, palpable on the four visits I’ve made to this former HSBC bank. I may qualify as an honorary blue badge guide the number of show-rounds I’ve done to the bank vaults turned private dining space.

There’s lots to like and lots not to. I didn’t like carefully calculated funky elements – the waiter who pulled up a chair to take our order (the one who also refused to believe there were two Soaves on the list and he had brought the wrong one), or his unoccupied fellow servers who were grooving along to the soul-lite soundtrack blasting out just behind us on the balcony.

All this could be forgiven as the teething problems of a young staff settling into what is a daunting space with 250 covers. Service was miles better on the second booked full-meal visit. Again we were in the eating in the panoramic balcony area, airy under Edwin Lutyens’ domed ceiling. There are odd corners downstairs that are decidedly cramped given the vast marbled acreage. The other two visits were to talk wood and chew off a plank, then for an alcohol-fuelled bar grazing happy hour that worked brilliantly.

Food, which is what this architecturally grandiose celebrity love-in is all about ultimately, has been very mixed. The antipasti are well-sourced, particularly the San Daniele ham, the mark-ups slightly more than I’d expect.

A starter of chicken liver tortellini (£6.50) was no ambassador for the fresh pasta they hand make on the ground floor daily – lumpen stuff, matched by a sage and pancetta sauce that was heavy-handed. Salads seem a good bet, particularly the pear and walnut in gorgonzola and balsamic (£3.75). Vegetable sides less so. The flash-cooked swiss chard (£3.25) was all burnt garlic; the multi-coloured carrots baked in the bag with thyme, olive oil and orange (£3.45) bizarrely went from fresh-tasting and yummy to a queasy aftermath for me and a companion.

From the pasta list, black angel spaghetti (£8.20 a starter, £13.90 a main) offered sharp chilli, caper and anchovy kicks and enough mini-discs of scallops amid the thin squid ink pasta to make it feel satisfying. My dip into the risotto list proved less so. Wild truffle risotto (£6.75/£11.50) was a struggle. Some token slices of black truffle, parmesan, butter and a preponderance of truffle oil – one dull bowl.

Bets main by far a fish special at £17.95, a splendid whole lemon sole baked in herbs, which made up for a farmed Anglesey sea bass (£16.95) off the regular menu that had been whatever is Welsh (or Italian) for the runt of the litter. My South Coast Fritto Misto (mixed fried fish, £15.95) was a travesty of the dish. Greasy, uncrispy, tasteless chunks of white fish, some flabby prawn and whitebait, with a tartare sauce that never even aspired to tanginess.

Puddings, in contrast, have been uniformly good, though Gennaro’s orange-dominated tiramisu sacrifices the choccy-caffeine kick for a lighter touch that won’t please diehards. “Jamie’s Italian, King of King Street”, the funky menu proclaims. There’ll be more competition for the crown when Parisian steakhouse Le Relais de Venise L’Entrecote opens soon in the former Emporio Armani next door at No 84. For now though, the Young Pretender is showing just a hint of complacency. It knocks spots off Zizzi’s, Carluccio’s and any number of other casual Italian joint, but while the surroundings are, the food ain’t that special.

Jamie’s Italian, 100 King Street, Manchester M2 4WU (0161 241 3901, www.jamieoliver.com/italian/manchester).