“RECHARGER les batteries”. Yes, that’s the French for what I presume chef Eric Moreau is doing back in his homeland as I write. As all good kitchens should, 63 Degrees had delivered the goods at dinner in the absence of its guiding light. Or should that be lumiere? It is still uncompromisingly French in its new habitat, the former Market Restaurant.
63 Degrees has only shifted 400 yards from its previous incarnation on Church Street and the menu shows no radical reworking, but there is a definite upping of the game.
Some of it is down to the new surroundings. Before he went on his hols, Eric told me how more appropriate this corner site in the ‘Quartier du Nord’ (Northern Quarter) felt. I agreed. The spot it occupied in the Light apartment building always seemed cold to me despite the obvious warmth and enthusiasm of the Moreau family. I also felt it was a mite pricey for soupcon-size portions of sometimes inconsistent for all the Parisian elan of the preparation.
Well, the past is another country as they say, even if it is still France. The prices are still not low, but the quality merits them. Those three courses the other night were a blinding conversion to their obstinate refusal to compromise on their national cuisine.
Fickle Brits, spoilt for choice by the global melting pot on their doorstep, have shed their allegiance to haute cuisine or even French bistro classics (ironically the Market in its heyday was very much an English take on the bistro).
Think again, TOM says. Snub the burgers, burritos and bullshit factor of the culinary arrivistes all around and try a restaurant that boasts napperie (table linen), a pin-sharp waiting team led by Arran Gamble (above behind the bar) and a signature dish of chicken poached at a constant 63 degrees to retain optimum taste and texture (you get the name now?).
That was my main. At £16.80 the price matched my starter of Fraicheur de Homard. Both were delicious surprises in very different ways.
The chicken dish in the past tended towards the dry – a danger when you mould cylinders out of flesh and herby potato, then sous-vide and roast them (at leat that’s how I assume they do it). This wasn’t. It was juicy even without the addition of some morel-rich sauce. Little jugs of waiter-poured sauce are de rigueur here. We ordered extra thyme-infused potato puree to mop up the stuff.
The surprise with the Fraicheur de Homard was the oriental influence. Sauce de Goma, made from sesame, was a pert accompaniment to lobster and mozzarella blobs steamed in a transparent spring roll wrap. My companion’s (£8.50) starter of citrus-cured mackerel with fennel was was exemplary.
So too an old stager among the 63 degrees mains, the rack of lamb with aubergine ‘caviar’ and a slick of tapenade (£26), the lamb pink, the accompaniments earthily Mediterranean.
Chocolate of terrific quality featured in our respective desserts, both of which cost £7.50. I have no picture of the Chocolate sphere, which dissolved spectacularly – and intentionally – when a red fruit jus with mint was poured over it and my companion wolfed it. Below, though is the molten magnificence of the perfect fondant. It came with a strawberry bonbon parfait.
I’m still getting used to the look of the place. Memories of the characterful going on shabby look of The Market Restaurant stick in the memory. It’s just a little stark at the moment downstairs, while they await some pictures for the walls.
One custom that continues from the ancien regime is that unusually no bread is offered; the menus are all in French, with italicised translations which I have used; and the wine list ignores the rest of the world, which I can accept given the general mission statement. Especially when it offers wines as exceptional as our Savigny Les Beaune 1er Cru ‘Champ Chevrey’ 2009 £55), benchmark red Burgundy fromDomaine Tollot Beaut. Elegant Pinot Noir that was so appropriate to the whole meal.
TOM is so looking forward to relaxed fine dining establishments in the pipeline for the city centre from Mary Ellen McTague and David Gale, Quill and Goose Fat & Wild Garlic (plus Simon Shaw’s sophisticated take on tapas, El Gato Negro). Independents all. Meanwhile, look no further than 63 Degrees for how it can be done.
63 Degrees, 20 Church Street, Manchester, M41PN. 0161 832 5438. Dishes such as the mackerel and the 63 Degrees chicken feature on the £18 two course set menu, available Tues-Fri 12pm-2.30pm and sat and Sun 12pm-5pm. On Tuesday evenings from 5pm there is a Tasting Menu for a terrific value £25.