Tis the season to be jolly (or in my case to be “bah humbug” – I have agreed to Mrs. SF putting up the decorations in the house today, it actually being Christmas rather than November J, but as she has pointed out we are away so hey – ho, ho, ho 😃),

which means wall to wall turkey tomorrow (not me, I am having Meat Matters beef – if you have Yorkshire pudding with said turkey you are committing heresy and will be found wanting come Judgement Day), but the word also has another meaning as something synoymous with a failure (shortly to be replaced in the dictionary with “a Disney” who’s current mission statement appears to be “Can we out John Carter ourselves, oh we turkenly can!”).

This bring me (not very tangentially) to Manteca, in Shoreditch, a place about which I had heard many many people talk about. What I surmised from those missives was it was far from a “turkey” being an uber successful establishment with on point pasta a particular forte.

Manteca (oddly, bearing in mine the clear nods here to Italy, Spanish for butter with closest I can find linked to Italy being Mantecare ) is not exactly a traditional Italian, but nor do they claim to be, so that is fine. What matters in the end is does what comes out of the kitchen taste nice? If it does, I am more than happy to be honest (despite my propensity to moan about incorrect labelling of menu items).

We booked early (online, good job) and early (eat time), with a 18.45 sit down on a Friday and it was absolutely packed to the gills upstairs and downstairs

We were sat in what may for many seem a rather unpromising spot, but to me being by the meat room and a case of Pieropan wine, as well as in line of sight to the pasta chef (Mrs. SF’s side of the table) was great (the chap was, working like an absolute Trojan, banging out dish after dish, after dish, at break neck speed).

A very tempting menu was put before us, with me having to compromise a tad (Mrs. SF is not an oyster fan and would not even entertain the possibility of me ordering the pigs head fritti) 😪.

First up were some rather intriguing fried olives, a tasty (Lilliputician) riff on the good old Scotch egg.

Super crisp panko, covered a highly seasoned sausage meat and destoned olive interior.

The latter brought a nice briney hit, that operated very well as against the rich, spiced up, sausage meat, with it all enhanced by a generous squeeze of lemon. A tad pricey perhaps at £3 a pop (of a Friday evening, I could rack up an bill that would make even Bill Matherson blush if these were on as a bar snack at an establishment nearer my gaff – these would be fab paired with a glass of fino – would blame the dog if questioned by Mrs. SF/my bank as to outgoings), but very moreish little morsels that rather set the highly flavoured tone for the night.  Mrs. SF was very sceptical of these when I suggested we order them, but was pleasantly surprised as to how much she liked them. Mrs. SF is generally not a lady for turning, so this is some achievement by the kitchen here.

The previous night we had had (at Quality Wines) a rather fine salad, but if anything the bitter leaf with pear, dulce gorgonzola and pecorino romano one here (£9) here topped it.

Lovely contrasts of flavour on display here, with the crisp slightly bitter leaves, the sweet, yet tangy, gooey gorgonzola, crisp sweet pears and a positive drift of earthy pecorino. Great individual ingredients, which combined into something greater than their parts.

Salads are such underrated dishes, which is a shame as when they are good like this one they are a joy to eat regardless of the season.

Home cured (judging from the stuff hanging up in the meat room) breasola (£9) was top notch stuff.

Lovely aromas of juniper, rosemary, garlic and a slight booziness from the wine marinade wafted up from the plate, with the taste being concentrated essence of beef.  Nothing needed on this, with stuff this good best left unadorned (gratifyingly they resisted the urge to cover it in bloody rocket).

Next up was the start of what I regarded as the main event, with 3 pasta dishes to share (much to Mrs. SF’s chagrin – she dislikes sharing anything with the glutton  that is me intensely).

A fazzeletti with duck ragu and duck fat panagretta (£16)

was a case of getting saucy between silken sheets. Perfectly cooked pasta, rich umami packed duck ragu and a lovely meaty crunch from the duck fat breadcrumbs. Beautifully crafted dish this.

The brown crab cacio e pepe (£14) was equally as good, with al dente wiggly wormey strozzapeti pasta coated in an almost decedant brown crab enriched sauce. 

This was like a traditional cacio e pepe on steroids with the brown crab doing a lot of flavour heavy lifting, yet not beating the flavours of this classic dish into submission  Not a combo I would have thought of myself (fearing the robust flavour of the brown crab meat would dominated to the detriment of what, without crab, is a fabulously flavoured dish with simple ingredients), but boy does it work a treat.

We have hummed and harred as to our third pasta dish, with Mrs. SF not keen on the cuttlefish option and the kale one, at least at first blush, not exactly getting the tastebuds going.

We settled on the kale number (£12 – reasoning that with the brown crab already in play another fishy number would unbalance the meal a tad) and it was a revelation.

A vibrant green kale sauce clung to every ridge, nook and cranny of the perfectly cooked lumache pasta.

The vibrancy of the colour of this dish was only supplanted by the flavour bomb it delivered. The loose kale sauce had a lovely nutty earthiness to it, with the heat of abundant chilli flakes and the saltiness of the cheese (parmegiano?) amping up the flavour. A generous slug of lemon topped it all off nicely, with a touch of lip smacking acidity.

Much to our surprise this kale number was our favourite dish of the night. Kudos to the kitchen for making kale the star of the evening  No mean feat that, with the competition it was up against!

We order focaccia for mop up purposes (£3.5),

which served its purpose  well enough. Nice, if a touch dry.  I preferred the focaccia at Quality Wines (the night before).

We skipped on puds, although they were tempting.

I am not a liquor drinker, but I was rather intrigued by the basil one here (not the lemoncello, which is horrid filthy stuff – I pondered when in Sorrento a fair few years back why restaurants tended to give it away free after a meal and then I tasted it and it became all too apparent why it was free).

On the wine front, there is a fulsome list

with lots to suit all tastes.

They split the list between “classic” and “down the rabbit hole” wines. I get that the “You  f*ck my wine” (apparently it alludes to an ongoing battle the producer has with the Cahors AOC regulators, but the name all seems rather childish to me) from biodynamic producer Fabien Jourves (I mean is he like a petulant 14 year old), which as a jurancon noirs heavy blend in Cahors is a bit off the wall, but Pieropan’s Calvarino 5  I would regard as rather more mainstream (I mean Pieropan family have been making wines in the Soave area of Italy since 1890 and Nino Pieropan – who to me was largely responsible for massively pulling up the quality and appeal of Soave – whilst an innovator in the DOC was also a great one for tradition), although the Calvarino 5’s  blend of 5 vintage is certainly different (but not, to mind at least ” Down the rabbit hole“) in Soave. 

Price wise, taking these two as examples, the Calvarino 5 is around £85 retail and on the list here at £158. At the lower price point the “You f*ck my wine” (for some reason I get a vision of Tom Conti in Shirley Valentine when reading that wine’s name) retails at around the £20 mark and is on the list at £58. For London, these are pretty reasonable mark ups (probably get your restaurant burned down in provincial Spain mind).

As Mrs. SF was still only just getting back into the saddle wine wise at the time, we went for a couple of glasses of red and white rather than going the full bottle route.

The Fattoria San Lorenzo di Gino marches blanco 2021 (£7.50 a glass, I think, and £38 a bottle, £15 retail)

was a very pleasant 100% verdicchio wine, with crisp apple and hazelnut on the nose and a good citrus hit and slight oiliness on the palate. Very nice with the salad, veggie and seafood pasta elements of the meal.

On the red front, I was enjoying myself rather too much and forgot to take a picture, I had a glass of the Bolgheri Rossi 2020 (£15 a glass, £70 a bottle and around £30 retail) from La Macchiole.

A merlot driven Bordeaux blend, this has nice aromas of black and red fruit, oak and a touch of tobacco.  Cassis and a touch of spice and smoke on the palate. Surprisingly approachable at its tender age, it paired very well with the duck pasta.

The verdict

I had high expectations as to the food at Manteca and it didn’t disappoint. Every dish (bar from perhaps the bread)  was top notch, with the surprising star of the show, the kale lumache dish, one of the best pasta dishes I have ever had both here and in Italy (albeit I have very limited experience of Italy and as such that latter statement shouldn’t be viewed will no little caution, nor probably should the former).

Can’t remember how much it was, as Mrs. SF’s treated me, but I think the total bill was around £120 including a 12.5% (automatically added  – grrrr, tip was warranted as service was pretty good but still don’t like it automatically added) service charge. I think this was pretty good value bearing in mind the quality of the food and wine we had.

The details

Address: 49 – 51 Curtain Road, Shoreditch, London, EC2A 3PT.

Website:  https://www.mantecarestaurant.co.uk/

We stayed in the Coach Inn in Clerkenwell during our weekend in London

Very nice pub (decently looking food menu – Henry Harris, of Racine fame, owns it), with rooms (surprisingly quiet bearing in mind are above a pub with a restaurant),

and not too pricey (think we paid £300 for two nights).

I would definitely stay here again.

Both perfect for a weekend away in the Big Smoke as an antidote to the post Christmas blues