Those pendulous ceiling lights have become famous over the years, and the dining room at Mana is instantly recognisable at a glance largely due to them.  The impressive open kitchen at the back remains at the heart of the whole operation, complete with a figurative/anatomically correct heart which sits on the wall high above the cooking stations.

The customer whole focus is on the kitchen, with everything else being peripheral albeit still clearly expensive, with chairs at tables for 2 both facing in the direction of said kitchen.  It’s a detail that we appreciate as obvious food geeks.

All in all it's a superbly handsome space which has remained as such over the last 6 years of operation.

The aircon was running a little cold on this occasion, and a couple of customers had left their coats on.  I can’t be sure if the two factors were related to be fair.

2 x tasting menus, supplementary beef courses, wine flights, glasses of welcome Champagne, water and service, roughly came to just £450 due to the guys comping a large chunk.  I say ‘just’ because £450 represented a very generous discount and the total bill should have been hovering around £800.

Comped meals and discounts are not something that we actively chase or ask for, but still appreciate massively when they unexpectedly arrive when asking for the bill.  Unless it’s following a special occasion visit, very few people who produce such articles in Manchester’s food media do so via payment from their own pockets, and it’s generally via undeclared freebies or popping it on expenses.  We prefer to pay our way to remain independent and impartial, and to be honest about receiving free stuff when does happen.

So regardless of the discounted bill, this resulting article remains our honest truth, as per usual.  But even at the full price, this is just what such elevated experiences cost.  We were looked after by over half a dozen talented people who spent hours prepping our dinner using expensive produce before we even arrived, and then once we did, we ate like Queens/Kings for over 3 hours.  It’s expensive, but then it’s also a huge luxury.

Merely the inevitables such as wine markups etc, which you just expect in such high-end places.  Expensive and good value are often the same thing since somethings just cost what they cost, and that’s a notion which applies here.

Your experience begins in the cozy lounge area just beyond the greeting station which is now adorned with a playful Bibendum figure, along with that newly relocated red plaque.   Over time in this game, you can easily measure if somebody is genuinely pleased to welcome you, and who’s just smiling/saying the right words yet is still clearly thinking ‘Not her again; what dross will she pen this time’.  But I’ve always felt sincerely welcomed at Mana, and not just because of the aforementioned discount.  Feeling that truly positive vibe is the barometer of any good hospitality experience.

Once at your table following a short kitchen walk-by, the story is similarly smooth.  Efficient, welcoming, precise yet grounded, with Chefs themselves delivering the goods which they’ve produced.  There’s no better way to do it in my view. 

Wine service is bossed by the always great value Nikolai.  His tableside manner shows no pomp, no stuffiness, and the wine storytelling is done in the right way, with fun yet serious knowledge.  2 Star level wine service action for sure.

Nothing really.  Maybe consider handbag stools or even just removable table hooks, to appease the ladies who are overly precious about putting their beloved accessories on the actual floor.  I’m proudly one of those people, and it’s been great to see such diva-catering furniture being more common across nice dining rooms in recent years.

Snacks are served in the aforementioned lounge section, and were kicked off with some superlative house made charcuterie. Correctly musty, uber flavoursome, carrying perfect fat content and sliced to a translucent thinness.  Only half a dozen years or so back, high-end UK places started to make their own charcuterie and it was generally pretty dire, being nowhere near the solid level that you’ll find in even a bad Spanish supermarket.  Those days have changed and British charcuterie has finally found its feet, at least at Mana. 

Peas From The Ashes was a novel spin on the now broadly overly used croustades which predictably pop-up on every premium dining menu’s snack section.  The textural element here comes via a dehydrated pea shell, tempered with tomatoes and Mana’s own ricotta.  Sustainable, clever, and above all, delicious.

Salt Aged Beef was quite simply, wonderful.  A pinpoint executed tartare reinforced with preserved eel, garum and lovage, which the menu’s sourcing note states as being from ‘Brett Graham/Chetwynd Hall’, so I’m assuming Brett’s herd of retired/aged jersey cattle.  3 Star lineage can’t be argued with.

En route to our ringside seat we swung by the kitchen for one final snack.   Last year I recall getting sidetracked by this pass-by, which at the time triggered my inner kitchen geek and led to a forgetful neglect in capturing photos or mental tasting notes.  This year I came prepped and following a brief description we were treated to a croustade shell made of blackened hops, filled with a silky mushroom and sunchoke ‘stew’.  Artichokes and mushrooms both list in my top 5 favourite items of produce, so I won’t moan about croustades here.

Onto the proper courses once seated, having opened our lovely menus with some slick Oui Chef scissors.  Gently Poached Oyster with Maldon salt, horseradish and dill was a play on Mana’s previous oyster presentation, removing the shell in favour of being eaten with a spoon.  It’s justifiably become a Mana staple over the years.

Quisquillas; tiny Spanish prawns from Motril in Andalucia, were as pretty as a picture and delivered a wave of delicate sweetness, backed up with a punchy kick from some English Habanero.  Precise and the perfect way to being your tastebuds online before the main courses.

Three Day Milk Bread was the evening’s main bread course.  Sourdough finally appears to be losing its presence on premium European menus after a long stint as everywhere’s favoured style and is now being superseded by Hokkaido-style carbs.  Mana’s bread course is as solid as you’d expect, now served with a fantastic whipped black truffle butter.

Lobster tail, came wrapped in a robe of white beetroot, and was dressed with a well measured vinaigrette.  Simple confident, and outrageously fresh with the provenance of that barely cooked tail being evident.  You could feel the pace picking up at this point.

Following the lightness and freshness of its predecessor, ‘The Rest of the Lobster’ offered some robustly hearty contrast.  Served in the seashell prop was a broth made from the lobster’s head, with 2 perfectly formed lobster claw cappelletti swimming in said brodo. A wedge of lime added some fragrance and acidity to reel in the broth’s richness.  Complex and comforting, not to mention utilising every part of the shellfish.

Just Shucked XL Scallop was as fresh as you can imagine, and more first-class protein.  Barely cooked and sliced into 3 tranches with fermented white asparagus and lemon thyme oil, this was a seemingly simple plate which was in reality, far from simple.  Thats the skill with such plates.   They seem basic, but the skill and restraint required to downplay obvious complexity, is admirable.

A Piece of Particularly Large Turbot was just that, to the point that it barely squoze into the recess on its expensive feeling plate.   The slice of meaty Cornish flatfish was accented with lemon verbena, and ate like a dream.  I’ve long believed that a venue’s precision is best measured by their fish cookery, and this belief shone brightly during this and the previous course.

Next was the supplementary course, listed simply and with focus as ‘A5 - Gunma’.  To elaborate; A5 graded Wagyu beef from Gunma prefecture.  Cooked over the Robata, legit A5 is one of the world’s truly superior proteins.  Mana’s preparation is precisely paired with cured yolk and wasabi, then topped with 2 fried nettle leaves.  It’s just an unexplainably decadent flavour and texture, like nothing else on Earth.

Sladesdown Peking Duck, cooked super slowly over burning grapevines to impart a fragrant/smokey note, was served with swagger and minimalistic confidence.  Juicy, perfectly rendered bird, dressed with a punchy sauce, and a playful duck wrap on the side.

Laminated pastry with caramelised alliums was superb in flavour delivery and execution.   A kind of savoury rolled croissant, with oodles of allium laden punch, which paired amazingly well with ‘The Rest of the Duck’.  This was served as a mini pot of ‘stew’, with an excellent acidic backbone via some elderflower condiment, to keep everything fresh and lively.

As the menu wound down and transitioned from salt to sugar, we were again treated to Mana’s Aspergillus Oryzae, a pitch perfect balancing act of salty and sweet.  Amasake sorbet to bring that sweetness, with a very generous helping of salty N25 Caviar, paired with a mug of Kabasecha.  It’s a brilliant dish would unquestionably feature on a metaphorical Mana’s greatest hits album.

Seabuckthorn was the main dessert, with Halen Mon salt, warm Mayan chocolate and woodruff. It resonated of memories from another of the city’s premium venues in terms of presentation and delivery, albeit with different flavour profiles.  A clever compilation of varying textures and temperatures created an undeniably interesting plate.

And to finish our experience came a couple of playful sticks of fudge, served on a Kintsugi adorned stand.  A fitting and delicious way to close things out for the evening.

But, I wasn’t a fan of the lime wedge served with the lobster broth course as it looked a bit clunky at this level.  Perhaps lime juice in a little Mana branded dropper bottle would be more apt?

Some ingredients are metaphorical Marmite, and Sea Buckthorn, sadly, just isn’t for me. I remember first eating it at Nathan Outlaw’s way back in 2011 when it was a lesser-known produce item, and recall telling myself that ‘this won’t ever catch on’.  I was wrong and it now pops up every now and again, but I’ve just never taken to it.  This one’s a matter of personal taste though, not execution, so to each their own.

Last year we left Mana following the best experience that we’d ever had there since the doors opened, so after half a year of no longer being the only Starred venue in town, we were keen to see how things had continued to progress.

The answer is that Mana’s cooking is arguably the most finely- tuned in the whole city, and is unarguably the most luxurious.  The produce used is 100% something which they don’t compromise on one bit, sourcing the best of the best from all corners of the globe yet with a clear eye on the local.

Crucially above all else, Mana now has its own personality, which has been the case for a few years to be honest.  But our awareness of that has been amplified following the perhaps OTT binge in visiting all 3 of the city’s premium venues in consecutive Fridays.  Back in the day I whinged about the uber similarities to a Copenhagen based industry GOAT who now only operates as global pop-ups.

But in 2025 the Scandi influence is now reeled in somewhat, with a more individual personality heavy experience on show, with strong accents of Japan, Mexico, and of course Britain.  I look at some dishes and preparations now and see ‘Mana’ specifically, not just a good restaurant or a dish that reminds me of somewhere else.  That’s the bedrock of a truly great experience.

Mana’s dining space and adjoined open kitchen have always been stunning spots.  Nothing has really changed over the years apart from a few tableside decorative tweaks.  Subtle music adds to the ambiance.  I can’t recall any of the music on the playlist, but then I guess that’s the whole schtick.  You’re there to eat and focus on the plate rather than peripheral sensory distractions.

The stunningly tall ceilings and those now-familiar pendant lights fill the space perfectly, with tall drapes gently masking the Ancoats hustle and bustle.  It’s just a lovely place to spend a few hours and has been kept looking pristine for years.

Let’s not nitpick for the sake of sounding clued up. Anything in this section would purely be subjective ego driven blurb, so I shall skip to the more interesting sections in this review.

The bill for 2 tasting menus, 2 wine flights, 2 coffees, water and service, came to £635.  And since we are transparent with you guys, that included a £100 discount which the owner of Mana kindly gave us ahead of booking, under the complete understanding that it won’t sway what we type here.  So, the bill should have come to £735, not that you needed that level of maths to be done for you. I hope.

Now as with anywhere on this level; it’s an experience, not just popping out for some dinner on a random Thursday.  It’s never going to be cheap and nor should it be, quite simply because it’s far from cheap to put on your plate.  When a squad of hard working and talented people cook for such a small number every evening using top end produce, the cost is absolutely justified and it still represents good value because that’s just what it costs.  I often feel more ripped of paying £25 in Five Guys than I do at most starred eateries.

We’ve long been champions for eating out costing more, simply because customers have no appreciation for how much it costs to deliver, or how much grind goes into this type of stuff.  This view was documented in our post-pandemic review of Ramona back in in 2021, so read that for more context.

Just the inevitable price bumps on some wine markups etc, which again, you have to expect in such lofty places as costs need to be covered.  There was still some great value vino to be had though.

The snacks which you receive in swankier establishments have become more than a simple taste bud wakener, as they were in the old ‘amuse bouche’ days.  They are now largely usually a barometer of what you’re about to undergo, rather than being a token nibble. 

Chips, cut into leaf shapes and accompanied with dip started us off along with our glass of ‘Billy’ Sous Bois.  And what better pairing for fizz than an oyster, in the case of snack #2; a Carlingford Oyster, topped with frozen buttermilk and tapioca.  And what collection of snacks would be complete in 2024 without a croustade of some guise? Langoustine with cucumber and blackcurrant wood completed the trio of lounge-area snacks with a pop.  We were ready for more.

A quick kitchen pass-by followed, which was accompanied with our final snack.  Fried Beer, sunchoke and cep mushroom.  To be honest, I remember it being tasty but was geekily distracted by the kitchen operations so the mental notes on this one are sparce.  I’m usually such a professional.

Onto the proper courses.  First over the imaginary pass was Chawanmushi; an umami-rich Japanese set savoury custard which was billed as the headline component.  It was of course well executed and delicious, but the A-lister on this plate for us was the scallop.  Roasted perfectly, served as three slices, accented with ramson oil for a properly British seasonal nod.

Jersey ‘Royale’ was a humble plate on paper and the menu dumbed down its delivery, but in reality this was a star dish of the evening.   It’s coming off soon because it’s no longer seasonal what with JRs and wild garlic drying up, so you may not get chance to try it after reading this.  Life can be cruel at times.

Brown Crab Adobo added some Mexican to the cultural melting pot.  Brown crab meat, impressively prepped as a single chunk rather than being removed in pieces as is normally the case. It was a textural revelation.  Solid, meaty, sweet and earthy.  Eating it as a whole piece changed your brain’s interpretation of what’s in your mouth entirely.  The aerated and poly-layered Adobo sauce perfectly complemented the protein.

Sojae Cured Scottish Hogget was our main course for the evening; in this case left to gently heat through over beech.  It was barely cooked as you can see from the shot.  In this case, barely means idyllic.  Astounding quality beast with melting fat.  We need to see hogget more widely used in my opinion.  We also loved the use of Kintsugi to repair a chipped plate on this course.  It avoids crockery wastage, making the chip a feature as opposed to being an expensive mistake.   It’s sustainable, looks great and also tells a story.  Plus, I don’t know of any other local venue who does this.  The last time I saw it was at the fantastic Grind and Tamp coffee shop in Ramsbottom a couple of years ago.

Aspergillus Oryzae acted as transition course and was a profoundly interesting contrast of salty and sweet.  Shio Koji Amazake sorbet  crowned with a hearty dab of top-grade caviar, paired with a mug of Kabasecha on the side.  The dish was served by Chef Dave Patel who we know from his time elsewhere in the city.  Dave spoiled us with an XL serving of caviar and we inwardly confessed that our preference of not wanting to be treated any differently to other customers is at times as untrue as it is unavoidable.  Even though it won’t influence scoring, only our egos and waistlines.

St Ella goat’s cheese was the basis of the cheese course; a fun play on everyone’s favourite wax coated lunch box snack.  I’m assuming that it was intentional, presenting further evidence of a kitchen which is perhaps taking itself less seriously than it once did, whilst still delivering excellence.

Xoco Mole reminded me of a rabbit, visually at least.  An Aztec one to boot.  In fact the whole table said the exact same thing as plates were laid down.  Anyway, no more immature observations.  A rocher of silky ‘ice cream’ with two ear-like shards sat next to a chocolate mole sauce which delivered a massive cacao hit, with some nuts for the textural element.  This was stripped back yet confident pastry work.

Stirred Cream Doughnut acted as a mopping vessel for the above mole.  A substantial yet airy dough carrying brioche notes, ended the meal with more fun, raising a child-like smile as any good pastry should.  It’s the last thing that you eat, and hence you remember it well so it needs to be on point.  And it was.

We finished with some quality espressos, from Hawaii and Jamaica alongside some petit fours, which are in fact the reason why we order coffee in the first place at such establishments.

But; our Editor had a bit of shell in her crab dish.  It was easily fished out and it happens, but still.  And there was a clear fingerprint on one of our ‘Babybels’, which didn’t bother us hence we said nothing, but may upset some, not that most would notice.

And the Kabusecha mugs looked a bit plain, when not adorned with a  Kintsugi repair as much as I’m sure that they cost a fortune.

Our evening started in the cozy lounge to take things in and become acclimatised amidst the energy of the evening’s service.  You’re then escorted to the open kitchen for the final snack; a touch which we loved.  Following that, you’re sat down to prepare for the experience which lies ahead.  The kitchen team were operating with a smile on their faces, carrying a relaxed yet super-focused feel throughout service.  I’ve long believed that people generally do their best work and feel the most fulfilled whilst under some pressure, yet are still enjoying themselves and feeling free to self-express.  In the background, a gentle kitchen buzz with an occasional and assertive ‘Yes’, rather than the usual ‘Oui’, added to the evening’s soundtrack.

The story on FoH was similarly sharp.  The wonderful Isobel took care of us throughout service with an infectious smile and laser-like detail.  Wine service, headed up by Nikolai, who we know well from various other dining rooms in the city, was completed with personality and great storytelling. That £140 wine flight won’t announce itself, and required expert wine knowledge to back up the expert wine making.   Every glass was served and then called as such to the kitchen, signalling that the food can follow within a suitable timeframe.

This was the best service which we’ve ever received at Mana, quite simply because it was the most controlled, unforced and seemingly effortless that it’s ever been.  Clockwork operations.

Nothing really.  Some courses were served by the Chefs themselves, and surrounding tables didn’t receive the same level of conversation that we did, but then Chefs are Chefs, and we are pretty chatty/interested guests so perhaps you receive what you resonate?

All in all; the most complete, well-rounded and enjoyable visit to Mana that we’ve experienced to date.  Last time we bemoaned the lack of physical printed menus to both guide your evening and also provide a takeaway memory of your parted-with cash.  The menu also needed a couple more courses, notably requiring more than one sweet course to prevent things coming to an abrupt end.  All those points have now been put to rest and the whole experience just felt more comprehensive than on our last visit.

Also, a few courses contained preparations and ingredients which we’ve never seen first-hand.  It’s pretty rare that we say that due to the sheer volume of places which we get to across multiple countries every year, but still, it’s the kind of thing which you seek out as it’s challenging to be excited by the familiar.  And yes I’m well aware of how affected that makes me sound.  But bear with me a second.  At high end places you often leave having had a great meal, but it wasn’t necessarily impressive in the same breath.  On this occasion, for the first time at Mana we left feeling impressed.  The meal made an impression upon us, and parts of it will remain as mental benchmarks for future experiences.  The next time I see a whole piece of arduously prepped brown crab, I’ll think of this dish at Mana and compare the two.  That’s how you grow as a food explorer.  In truth, anyone even semi-literate can write about food and sound partially convincing, and to be fair, that happens too much.  But actual first-hand experiences are what really enrich and enlighten you, not just reading or writing about things that you’ve never actually tasted. So, get yourself booked in and see for yourself.

There’s been a 2-star buzz around Mana in the media/food circles for a couple of years now.  Is that justified?  Im not so sure to be honest, since it’s not just about whats on the plate.  I’ll let you into a little unofficial trade secret; one of the criteria for 2 stars is usually that your kitchen has produced Chefs who’ve gone on to open venues themselves, which then also pick up a star.  It’s the same with moving from 2 to 3 stars.  It's all about lineage and influence.

Let’s see what happens as Mana’s guys move on to forge their own paths, as intrinsically happens in the industry…  you just never know.