The bronze pig’s head above the door is the first sign of Manteca’s credo, the mantra on their website telling you the rest: in-house salumeria , nose-to-tail cooking, hand-rolled pasta, fire-cooked cuts to share. It’s ticking so many of my daily urges that I dash through the door and perch at the bar in their opening week.
I’ve been tracking chef/owner Chris Leach’s progression since first meeting him ten years ago at the trailblazing barbecue spot Pitt Cue, and most recently as Manteca was popping up as a temporary residency in a couple of London sites – now, together with co-owner David Carter of Smokestak, another temple to the glories of meat cooking and butchery, they have opened a permanent spot that is clever, subtle, and utterly compelling.
The house salumi plate kicks things off, and we’re immediately into a confident strut, as silky black pepper salami moves on to delicately smoked speck, then great fat-marbled coppa, before the ‘wow’ inducing mortadella: rough-hewn, coarser and darker than the standard stuff, this is singing with the resonance of happy rare-breed pigs, and makes for a guilt-free rendition, a gentle hum of herbs and spice in the background. In the glass salumeria downstairs they make use of all the bits (both loved and unloved) of breeds including Mangalitza, Tamworth, and Gloucester Old Spots, making broths and sauces from the bones of animals they break down – the result is triumphant cured meat.
Another statement from the kitchen which is a glorious paean to the chef etiquette of giving respect to a butchered animal by using every darn scrap, is the pig skin ragú, an outrageous menu item that demands attention. It’s served alongside a huge slab of crackling which I’m urged by bar manager Ilario to use to scoop up the contents of the bowl: I’m pleased he did, this is surely the best way. The skin is braised and finely chopped, cooked down with tomatoes and onions until achieving a form of gelatinous apotheosis, a hot mess sprinkled with parmesan and making an indecently good starter.
While I could happily spend an afternoon piling into the excellent wine list while exploring the entire salumi selection, alongside crisp gnocco fritto and some of the bounciest, most flavoursome focaccia I’ve had for some time, I have tasted Leach’s pasta on several occasions, and know this to be showstopping – how much can I take down? The crab cacio e pepe makes another appearance here, with wriggly fat tubes of tonnarelli, and the heft and honk of buttery brown crab meat coating every strand, with an artful flourish of ground black pepper on one side. Next, I wade into the fazzoletti with duck ragù, the silkiest handkerchiefs of pasta blushing with the yellow of good yolks, a dousing of crunchy duck fat pangratatto on top – satisfying textural contrasts, deep flavours. As an adoring fan boy of the pasta at The River Café, the quality and execution of the cooking going on here will scratch that particular itch if I’m not trekking across to West London – that’s high praise from this resolute pasta fascist.
While meat and pasta are the star tricks here, I enjoy some greens with a great rendition of puntarelle alla romana, the bitter chicory salad dressed with a punchy anchovy and chilli vinaigrette, even better when mopped up with more of that excellent focaccia. Sprout tops play a fine role by enveloping a peppery puck of beef sausage, with freshly grated horseradish and some its cream perking up the whole ensemble. Finishing off with some satin-textured gelato affogato (ice-cream sourced from Hackney Gelato, who Michelin starred restaurants are happy to use), I’m already plotting the return visit, to tuck into more pasta (regularly changed up), and to indulge in the compelling and very fairly priced wine list: on this occasion it was an ABV% free lunch, but a sharp and wide selection has many of my favourites, including Pieropan’s Soave La Rocca, Barbaresco from Sottimano, and Sonoma Pinot Noir from Littorai – it’s a list that deserves to quickly attract a grateful restaurant industry crowd.
The room has a buzzy and insouciant feel that calls to mind a New York City attitude and vibe, a fine trick of combining casual with a quiet confidence, of serious integrity without any la dee dah navel gazing.
Come here for the meat, stay for the pasta, glory in the pig skin ragú – this one’s a keeper.
Reviewed by Zeren Wilson
