By Neil Sowerby
IT would be harsh to judge James Martins restaurant in the 235 Casino for what it is not. Abandon all hype here. Its not trying to form a triumvirate of cutting edge gastrolabs with Simon Rogan and Aiden Byrnes establishments, which have lit up the city with their sheer panache. The food on offer under Martins name is less fascinating but also less intimidating. You dont have to concentrate quite as much, which is not alway a bad thing. If the food is any good. And with that we may have a problem.
To the general public telegenic Martin is the most famous of the three. His Saturday Kitchen/Ready Steady Cook celebrity status is grounded in a bedrock of hard graft in restaurant kitchens, though. He has previous, cooking in casinos. Jamess Leeds Kitchen was pulled from under him when the Alea gambling complex at Clarence Dock abruptly shut in March.
His head chef in Leeds, Doug Crampton, has made the switch to Manchester with him. You are more likely to find James (Martin) behind the stove at Casino 235 than you are Jamie (Oliver) dishing out the pasta at his eponymous joint in Spring Gardens, just dont turn up expecting to get an autograph any day soon. Nowt wrong with delegation to a trusted sidekick. Rogan at the French is totally imbued with his culinary ethos, but it was incumbent head chef Adam Reid who collected its Best Restaurant and Newcomer gongs at the MFDF Awards.
Run the Gauntlet
Ive always liked the dining space previously known as Linen. The problem its at the heart of a gambling den. To get there you have to run the gauntlet of the dazzling neon-lit escalators and even more dazzling carpets. Get one of the choice tables by the far wall overlooking Great Northern Square (you have to twist your neck and peer though blinds) and you can be oblivious to the peculiar human goldfish bowl that is the Casino after dark.
What you cant immediately ignore is the James Martin branding. His name is writ large in white lettering behind the welcome desk. More discreetly, even your napkins are monickered, too. Also nowt wrong with that if your name is the obvious selling point. More disconcerting is the presence of 12 giant metallic antique cockerels doodle-doing all over the walls. Each weighs 20kg. They were apparently hijacked from under the nose of Marco Pierre White, who also coveted them (it must be a Yorkshire thing).
Alas, Coq au vin doesnt feature on the menu. Pot roast Goosnargh chicken does, at £15.95, and my companion chose it as her main. More a Goosnargh poussin, it arrived in its own small cast iron cooking pot (we had to ask for a spoon) and was pleasant enough. The tarragon sauce came separately as a dark jus without a trace of the herb. A side of star anise carrots definitely featured that spice, while green beans cooked with bacon were far too bacony.
I searched for any dominant taste at all in my West Coast Plaice with potted Morecambe Bay shrimp dressing (£15.95). Plaice is a delicate fish and Id expected a buttery mace kick from the shrimp but their impact was purely visual, the same too with the surprisingly bland twigs of rock samphire. Herb dumplings were green and dense. All very unsatisfying.
Starters were mixed. My £10.95 smoked beef fillet came wafer-tin carpaccio style with appropriate blobs of grain mustard and bone marrow fritters, with discs of yellow beetroot and a puree of the red variety, there to justify it as a salad. All was obliterated by a huge pickle whack from some onions.
Across the table the now classic nutty combination of seared scallops and black pudding cubes (£8.95) was enhanced by a sticky chutney of tamarind, palm sugar and ginger chutney.
We eschewed what is very much James Martins signature desert, white chocolate and whisky croissant butter pudding in favour of a caramelized lemon tart and a dark chocolate mousse (each £7), both well-executed examples, but like the meal as a whole lacking oomph.
Meat Market
At one time Linen had a fascinating, extravagant wine list. The current offering is more workaday but yielded a lovely, affordable Argentine Malbec, while the biggest flavour in an evening of scant flavour was our Aussie white, the DArenberg Money Spider Roussane. Once wed rescued it from abuse by ice bucket, allowing it to unleash its piney nose and long melony, peachy citrussy fruit. £40 but worth it.
Perhaps the safest menu option, and I dont really want to be damning with faint options, is the steak roster. The restaurant offers Meat Market: a walk-in fridge with the different cuts of meats on display. They are proud of their well-sourced Yorkshire Wagyu and 28-day hung Hereford beef. A restaurateur, who popped in the other night (it stays open late) was extravagant in his praise of the rib-eye.
Not long ago Observer food critic Jay Rayner named as his best dish of the year so far a beef stew at the Talbot Hotel in Malton. Martin is exec chef there back in his home town. Protege Crampton trained at the groundbreaking Anthonys in Leeds. Why then was dining at Casino 235 such an underwhelming experience? In a city that has suddenly struck gold for fine dining options, surely its no gamble to bank on bigger flavours? Even in a Casino.
James Martin, Manchester 235, Great Northern, 2 Watson Street, Manchester M3 4LP. 0161 820 3072; www.manchester235.com/restaurant-details/james-martin-manchester.