When new restaurants open, sometimes there’s a whiff of terror about them. They want to get everything right - understandably - so the anxiety levels are elevated. Often, those frantic vibrations can work their way through to the people eating and the result is… not great.
Not so at Climat. It’s been open just a few weeks, and while it’s not usually fair to pass unsolicited judgement on somewhere before it’s properly hit its stride, this place already feels relaxed and confident. And not the swaggery, conceited, undeserved type of confidence either. The quiet, impressive kind.
Maybe it’s the view. If I had a view like that, I’d be pretty confident too. It’s not so high as to be aloof, but just high enough to feel like you’re in amongst it. Part of the city, not just looking down on it.
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At this end of town, just perched on the Manc side of the Irwell, you can see the illuminated domes of the magnificent Barton Arcade, somewhere which, as new developments spring up at a bewildering rate, is criminally easy to forget about as being one of the city’s most elegant buildings.
And, once the giant prophylactics come off the Town Hall, the cinematic windows at Climat will have it framed up gloriously. All this before you’ve picked up a fork too (side note; the cutlery is noteworthily handsome).
The place is run by the team behind Covino in Chester, a much more intimate spot, but just as wine-focussed. Climat refers to itself as ‘a wine led restaurant’, which actually feels slightly off. As if it’s perhaps putting the wine before the food.
Because yes, they might have 300 or so bottles in their cellar, but the food is generally excellent. True, there are many better examples of focaccia in the city - this one (£4.50) isn’t anywhere near as airy and light as it should be - but it does come swimming in an almost excessive pool of hot and peppery olive oil, so it’s partially forgiven.
The pastry of the lamb keema vol-au-vent (they will be changing the fillings regularly) was dry, like it had been made far too far in advance, and at £7.50, too expensive. I’d want two for that money, and would like both to be fresh from the oven please. Puff pastry without a hint of internal chewiness amid the external crispiness is a joyless thing.
But these were the only duff notes. A deeply burnished hash brown with powder pink taramasalata piped on top (£6.50) was eaten in reverent silence. Dark purple carrots with creamy whipped feta and hazelnut pesto (£7.50) were totally pitch perfect.
Beef tartare (£14) covered in a hefty layer of sharp Berkswell cheese and mixed through with crispy fried sourdough crumbs was a punch-the-air moment of a dish, as was perfectly cooked hake (£23) with barbecued leeks, and a heady, meaty sauce, scattered generously with green peppercorns lending it a herbal scent and a warming heat.
Such is the location and the level of cooking on display from chefs Luke Richardson and Simon Ulph and their team, Climat is not cheap by any stretch. Also featuring on the menu, but not ordered, was a Dexter sirloin on the bone (to share) for £70, and duck with clementine and radicchio for £50, also to share.
For the vast majority of mere mortals, Climat is an occasion restaurant, if you're lucky. But if that's what you're looking for, you'd be hard pressed to find anything more striking in the city right now.
Wines were, as you’d expect from somewhere billing itself as ‘wine-led’, excellent, and from £6 by the glass, solid value. Go a few quid above that, and you’ll be able to experience something that’s likely prohibitively expensive by the bottle.
But Climat really excels in getting the little things bang on. The low wire chairs where you can sit and have a drink before dinner (a cocktail of vermouth, fino sherry and pine essence sat at the bar was perfect). The aforementioned cutlery - you could use the knife as a paperweight.
The sink taps in the loo, which echo industrial valves, but not in a clumsy ‘we’ve been to the reclamation yard and been ripped off’ way. The lovely plates, a nice mix of slick Scandi-modern and nicely old fashioned. The lamp hanging above the lift that takes you up to the eighth floor. It just gets an awful lot right, and when I went last week, another rather renowned national critic and broadcaster was just a few tables down, meaning word has clearly got out fast.
When temperatures once again begin to rise, and as the sun decides to hang around longer into the evenings, this place will truly come into its own, with its handsome outdoor terrace. I’d like to be back quite a bit before then, but that’s what I’m really looking forward to, glass of booze in hand, the sound of the city below, and in striking distance of a plate of hash browns.
Climat, 8th Floor, Blackfriars House, St Marys Parsonage, Manchester M3 2JA
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