There’s something deliciously indulgent about sipping cocktails at Midland Hotel on a Wednesday night. Manchester’s grand dame of hospitality, The Midland, is all marble, history, and quiet opulence—a place where time seems to slow down just enough for you to savour the moment. The bar itself feels like an oversized conservatory, with wicker accents and towering olive trees lending a Mediterranean whisper to the heart of the city.
We were greeted almost immediately by a cheerful bartender who seemed genuinely delighted to take our order. First up: an East 8 Hold Up, a vibrant mix of vodka, Aperol, pineapple, lime, and passionfruit served over ice in an Old Fashioned glass. Bright, tropical, and just the right amount of tart. Then came a Manhattan, classic and confident, bourbon meeting sweet vermouth and bitters, crowned with a cherry. We asked for a balance of sweet and dry, and while both cocktails were good, they could have packed a little more punch. Still, how decadent were we—cocktails at The Midland on a Wednesday night?
With only thirty minutes allotted for pre-drinks, we downed the last drops and made our way around the corner to Exhibition, a concept that feels like a love letter to Manchester’s culinary creativity. Think food hall, but elevated: three independent kitchens under one roof, table service, and dishes that lean towards sophistication rather than street food.
At the time, the lineup was stellar:
- Baratxuri, where almost everything meets fire on a traditional Rescoldo wood grill.
- Osma, a Scandinavian-inspired kitchen blending Nordic roots with local, seasonal produce.
- Onda, a fresh pasta bar (soon to depart for The New Cross), crafting pasta daily in collaboration with Gooey and Chef Sam Astley-Dean.
Our table wasn’t ready, so we perched at the bar and ordered drinks: a glass of Chilean Cabernet Franc rosé, a Clementine Bellini kissed with white peach, clementine purée, and sparkling pignoletto, and a pint of Manchester Union Lager, brewed just down the road and delivered unpasteurised within hours. Freshness in a glass. Only later did we discover Exhibition’s midweek happy hour—cocktails for £6 and lager for £4. If only we’d known before splurging at The Midland!
Finally seated at a cosy banquette for three, we agonised over the menu far too long. By the time we ordered, Onda’s focaccia had sold out (a small heartbreak), but here’s what made it to the table:
- Cabecero from Baratxuri: cured Iberico pork collar with toasted corn. Rich, fatty, and deeply savoury, though the corn divided opinion—like half-popped popcorn.
- Cauliflower Karaage from Osma: crisp, spiced batter with strawberry, jalapeño, and sesame. A revelation—my favourite way to eat cauliflower elevated to art.
- Tagliarini Pomodoro from Onda: tomato, basil, garlic, Parmigiano. Simple, perfect, and my standout dish of the night. We should have ordered two.
- Crispy New Potatoes from Osma: golden, crunchy, flecked with chive. The promised brown butter hollandaise was elusive, but they were magnificent nonetheless.
- Marinated Crispy Chicken from Osma: tender, juicy, paired with kimchi mayo for a tangy kick.
- Sausage Campanelle from Onda: Cumbrian pork, white wine, fennel, Parmigiano. Fresh pasta, yes, but I longed for more sausage.
- Crab Fettucine from Onda: Cornish crab, garlic, parsley, lemon, chilli. Pleasant but underwhelming—the crab too shy, the chilli too timid.
- Tiramisu from Onda: savoiardi sponge, marsala, espresso, mascarpone. I’m not a coffee fan, yet this was irresistible—soft, creamy, and indulgent.
To accompany it all, a bottle of Zibibbo from Sicily—bright, citrusy, and a sensible choice after balking at the £24 supplement for Albariño.
We left Exhibition full and happy, impressed by the concept and the execution. It’s a place that feels like Manchester now: collaborative, creative, and confident. It’s going to be interesting to see who steps into Onda’s shoes—big boots to fill.