Fenix, The Goods Yard Building, Goods Yard Street, Manchester M3 3BG
(0161 646 0321). Small plates £6-£35, large plates £16-£65, desserts £10-£14.90, wines from £26.40
Fenix is just begging for a furious eye-roll. It describes itself as a modern Greek restaurant. I’d describe it as an attempt to go so far over the top that everyone responsible is tumbling joyously down the other side. The design brief was clearly governed by a simple mantra: “What do you mean, that’s enough? Give it more.” It’s located in Manchester’s new St John’s development, which is so sharp-edged and brittle you could cut your finger on it. Inside, however, it’s an orgy of rounded, undulating faux sandstone walls, sanded olive wood and backlit plumes of CO2 rising above the bar like flames. Which is what you’d expect from the company behind the pan-Asian Tattu. That one has a faux cherry blossom tree in the middle of the dining room and hyper-expensive dumplings. This one looks like the cantina from the original Star Wars, only with added hummus.
If God is in the detail, this lot really are true believers. At Fenix, which is pronounced like the fiery risen bird, the greeters are dressed as Grecian priestesses in flowing blue gowns with brass chains at the hip. Senior staff are dressed in light beige suits, so they look like walking sand dunes off an Ionian beach. Every item of rugged crockery, every piece of brass-effect cutlery, every single shimmering glass and cup and napkin ring, has been chosen to make you weigh it in your hand and feel special just for holding it. The ground floor bar’s ceiling is hung with a field of wheat so that, in your cups, you can stare upwards giddily and imagine yourself either as Russell Crowe in Gladiator or Theresa May in her wild years. The lustre continues unto the loos. You can have a leak and then anoint yourself with unguents by Lalique. Fenix is 10,000 Instagram reels just waiting to happen. It’s one huge stage set and you’re the star.
Usually, I hate such places at first sight, because it saves time. Too often when millions have been spent on the decor, the food becomes an afterthought. When our waiter gives the obligatory speech about sharing plates and it coming when it’s ready and how it’s modern Greek with an “Asian twist”, my heart plummets deep into my ankle-supporting boots. Please stop bloody twisting things. Leave them uncoiled. The proof, however, is not just in the pudding, but in all the courses that come before. Because the food here, courtesy of Greek head chef Ippokratis Anagnostelis, is delightful. Yes, it can be mannered. And no, this isn’t the place for taverna classics. But it really is all sorts of delicious and, in its own way, thoroughly comforting.
Start with the “moussaka”, which needs those inverted commas, because it’s an assembly rather than a one-pot dish. There is a fat, slumping piece of slow-roasted aubergine underneath, topped by tangles of braised beef short rib. On top of that is a duvet of cheesy béchamel and, alongside, discs of fried potato. It’s all the flavours and textures of moussaka, not so much deconstructed as reupholstered. Some people object to this malarkey on principle. But when, as here, it’s done with such attention to detail, objections fall away. It works.
The taramasalata is light and frothy, the pitta with it comes hot and blistered, soft and olive oil-slicked. A sea bass tartare is both worth looking at and worth eating. The tian of mayo-bound fish comes under a shiny glaze of a citrus dressing with just the lightest hit of saffron and topped with a dollop of caviar, which acts less as status symbol than seasoning. The least categorisable dish is another chunk of roasted aubergine. It’s dressed thickly with a nutty hummus. Bouquets of deep-fried kale stand proud on top and stretching away to the side is a golden lake of sesame seed-dotted miso-tahini sauce. Is this a Greek dish with Japanese influences or a Japanese dish, which spent the summer hanging out on a Greek island? I’m not sure I really care.
Larger dishes include a leg of slow-roasted lamb for four priced at £95. It must be ordered 24 hours ahead. You’re invited to do so when you book, along with the bottles of Laurent-Perrier Rosé Brut at £125. Well, that just sounds like a spanking night out to me. What do you mean, cost-of-living crisis? Never heard of it. Clearly, I have now very much given myself to this place, with its priestesses, fake foliage and hanging wheat. We have a platter of spiced tiger prawns, which are two thumbs thick, charred and smoky, and helped along by a peppery yuzu and olive oil dressing. Bring on the finger bowls.
We lean in over a fabulous dish of orzo, cooked until soft and starchy in an anise-heavy lobster bisque and topped with three fat langoustine tails, plus one langoustine head that squints up at you over its claws, as if checking you’re having a good time. Yes I am, thanks for asking. Desserts include a cinnamon-spiced crème brûlée, which is as accomplished as any I’ve ever been served, the custard just set, the sheet of caramel, tissue-paper thin. Alongside is a plate of caramelised apple with pebbles of biscuit crumb. It’s for sharing. That may well translate as “for fighting over”.
You have to give yourself to Fenix, much as you might to Disneyland or a cruise of the Norwegian fjords or a Soho torture garden. Perhaps you didn’t think this was your scene. But now you’re here it turns out to have a lot to recommend it. Yes, some of Fenix is very silly indeed. The cocktail list includes the vodka-based Apollo’s Lemonade. The description explains that Apollo was damn pretty and good at things like archery and a little light soothsaying. “Our alcoholic version of lemonade is equally vibrant.” That’s good enough for me.
Like a night in that Soho torture garden, eating here will also prove punishing, especially if you rage through the bargain-free wine list. Then again, that 15ft fake olive tree isn’t going to pay for itself and dancing around one of those like you’ve become your very own Greek god can be fun. The other customers here this lunchtime have clearly accepted the cost, for this is Manchester suited and booted and that’s a crowd that knows how to have fun. But even if none of that appeals, even if you don’t want to eat on the sunkissed set of Mamma Mia!, do come for the food. It’s terrific.
News bites
The Cheltenham-born Sri Lankan restaurant group the Coconut Tree, which has nine branches across the southwest and Midlands, is crowdfunding a £1m investment to help growth, starting with two sites in London. The ambitious business plan anticipates the company expanding to 20 sites by the end of 2025 and 50 by the end of 2028, with hopes to boost annual revenues from £6.7m currently to £70m. As well as a potential return on investment, those who sign up will be offered a variety of inducements, including discounts and free meals. Full details at thecoconut-tree.com
Chef Masaki Sugisaki of the self-styled ‘gill-to-tail’ restaurant, Dinings SW3, in London’s Chelsea, is staging a monthly series of collaborative dinners with chefs from around the UK, focusing on whole fish cookery. On 30-31 January, it’s Emily Cha from Sargasso in Margate; in February, it’s Roberta Hall-McCarron from the Little Chartroom in Edinburgh; March features Joe Baker from Pêtchi on Jersey; and finally in April it’s Dan Cox from Crocadon in Cornwall. There will be two sittings a night for 12 people each, and tickets cost £120. Find more information, go to diningssw3.co.uk
Coast Restaurant in Saudersfoot, Pembrokeshire, is the latest establishment to announce it is dropping its tasting menu format. The departure after four years of head chef Fred Clapperton, has been taken as the cue to launch ‘a more informal style of dining’. Clapperton’s final service will be on 9 March. The restaurant will then close for a short period while new menus are put in place (coaastsaundersfoot.co.uk).
Email Jay at jay.rayner@observer.co.uk or follow him on X @jayrayner1
