Grafene, Manchester: It breathes ‘massive, tumescent budget’ with every tile

I was speaking to a chap very much involved in the promotion of his home town. In order to attract the monied weekending gastrotourist, he said, a city needed at least three stellar restaurants. Perhaps this is why Manchester keeps dishing up the kind of place that effectively has a “Notice me, Messieurs Michelin!” banner across its frontage, needy as a Facebook page.

Already tugging at the tyre men’s coat-tails are, of course, The French by Simon Rogan and Manchester House. Poor old Quill lasted only five minutes, unsure whether its audience was hardcore foodies or orange soap stars. But, just round the corner, here’s Grafene with everything a box-ticking restaurant inspector could wish for: tasting menus, local provenance, “artisan suppliers”, “open pastry kitchen”, “scientifically inspired cocktails”. You name it, they’re on it.

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