I’m perched on a tall stool at a new Manchester bar, perusing a menu of fishy things and various aquatically adjacent items: Lindisfarne oysters, devilled eggs with brown crab and trout roe, hand-dived razor clams and scallop tartare with elderflower dressing. Bar Shrimp sits on New York Street, which feels weirdly fitting, because this place is much more “quietly sceney” New York than anything remotely “aren’t we edgy?” London. Glass-fronted, with discreet net curtains and a Tracey Emin-esque neon name sign, inside it’s draped, floor-to-ceiling, in red, just like in those red room scenes in Twin Peaks. Expect oversized, monogrammed ice cubes, nine types of mezcal and just as many amaros, as well as a menu featuring the likes of cuttlefish sandwiches and buffalo fried cod with blue cheese dressing.
Bar Shrimp is a dog whistle to 1980s kids such as myself, who grew up seeing New York in the likes of After Hours or Wall Street, or in something with James Spader being up to no good and drinking Japanese whiskey highballs. It’s a bar opened by three friends: chef Joseph Otway, sommelier Daniel Craig Martin and general manager Richard Cossins, who met while they were all working at Dan Barber’s Blue Hill at Stone Barns in Tarrytown, New York State. (Blue Hill, in case you didn’t know, is catnip to the aloof foodie crowd – its customers wouldn’t be seen dead at Noma because it’s far too accessible). But does Bar Shrimp make a terrific fuss about this hallowed connection? Nope. Are there nods to Saint Dan Barber dotted around the place, or even in Higher Ground, the Bar Shrimp team’s acclaimed neo-bistro next door? Nah. Does Bar Shrimp even mention that it and Higher Ground are supplied by Cinderwood Market Garden, their own working farm in Nantwich, Cheshire, and pretty much in the spirit of Barber’s Blue Hill mantra? Barely. The Shrimp boys are far too cool to namedrop.
Regardless of their modesty, Otway, Cossins and Craig Martin are spreading their tentacles oh so stylishly. First, a pop-up, followed by a bricks-and-mortar restaurant and now this, Bar Shrimp, which is intriguing and risky in equal measure. Not quite a restaurant, certainly not a wine bar – and a much more difficult sell. Do shellfish snacks and complex cocktails even go together? And, to be quite honest, isn’t eating in a bar just cheating? And while it turns out that a glass of Laherte Frères champagne or a Death in the Afternoon cocktail made with champagne and absinthe does pair beautifully with Cornish Baerii caviar with house-cut crisps and soured cream, this is north-west England, not Antibes. Even so, Bar Shrimp seems to have hit the water, well, swimming. In fact, I’d go so far as to argue that, right now, a seat at the bar with some good, earthy smoked mackerel rillettes with those crisps and a cold glass of pét-nat might even be one of the best seats in Manchester, if not the entire north.
Devilled eggs with brown crab are perfectly executed: symmetrical, neatly stuffed, pungent with crab and topped with glossy orange bubbles of trout roe. Arbroath smokie, assertive and smoky, is turned into glorious fritters. There’s Morecambe Bay shrimp served in cocktail sauce, and crisp croquettes made with cuttlefish ink and bacon. These are not chuck-away casual bar snacks; this is meaningful, highly adept cooking, and in many cases simply the result of honouring truly great produce. Oysters are served plainly on stainless steel with vinegar and lemon. Yes, there are larger plates, too, in the form of monkfish pasta and a juicy Dexter beef burger, but the real beauty of Bar Shrimp is in its simpler moments, such as the marinated mussel escabèche or finely chopped beef tartare with crisp cod skin and, at time of writing, wild garlic.
Bar Shrimp, for now at least, is the very antithesis of those hip places that are skewered by their own self-importance. It’s not another interminable jaunt into curated cocktails made by men with steampunk tattoos who feign a love of Fernet-Branca. Instead, it is smiley-staffed and operates an all-welcoming door policy that includes both slinky, youthful things and their mothers and grandmothers, who’ve probably been taken along to pay for it all.
Puddings are limited to cherry blossom soft serve with maraschino cherry or affogato, although if you’re heading deep into the cocktail list, perhaps you’ll prefer just to relax into proceedings with a “Dabinett Apple” made with Capreolus eau-de-vie, ice cider and honey. Or, if you’re throwing caution to the wind, get on the lemon drop shots, which bring back memories of Playa de las Américas in Tenerife by mixing lemon, vodka and curaçao. I’ve seen how those nights end, so I’ll stick with the soft serve. Bar Shrimp: Manchester’s new best thing ever.
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Bar Shrimp 7 New York Street, Manchester M1, barshrimpmcr.co.uk (no phone). Kitchen open 4-9pm Wed and Thur, 2-9.30pm Fri and Sat. From about £35 a head for three courses, plus drinks and service
