Manifest, Liverpool

Order the Chef's Choice menu (sounds so much nicer than tasting menu, don't you think?) and you may be in for a surprise. The food - we'll come to that. But the first thing the kitchen will do as you walk in is to fire up the deep fryer.

Hang on. This is a place which promises casual fine dining, and whose website boasts of an elegant industrial style restaurant. So what gives? Read on.

Actually, I'm not sure I would go along with the word elegant. Manifest is in the heart of Liverpool's Baltic Triangle, an area so called because of the plethora of buildings which were associated with the thriving trade between Liverpool, Scandinavia and the Baltic states. The restaurant is in a former Victorian warehouse. Industrial chic, therefore, rather than elegant.

There is the warmest of welcomes from front of house, Tom Ford. Daughter H and partner HC exchange glances. They're sure they've seen him before. Cast your eyes round the place. There is a bar counter (where it is possible to dine). Behind that chef patron Paul Durand and his team go about their business. As befits chefs who have honed their skills in some of the country's top kitchens, they work calmly, efficiently and quietly. The days of the screaming kitchens are, mercifully, fading into history. Look to the left of the kitchen and be amazed. The biggest selection you ever did see of jars with preserves, pickles, ferments and, for all I know, magic potions.

The deep fryer? Well when Paul brings the first course, a poached oyster (cherry blossom/chilli it says on the menu) he also comes bearing a huge bowl of crisps. Potato crisps, still warm, with a delicate salt and vinegar flavour. Oyster and crisps is not a normal combo. I would have preferred the crisps with the aperitif; however, there is no way we are not going to scoff the lot, for these are the best crisps you have ever eaten.

The menu has seven courses. At this stage, I must make a note to myself. Don't let several weeks elapse before writing up the article. Not only did my first draft say that we had signed up for the wine flight at a very reasonable £65, I commented favourably on the wine discussions we had with Tom. Oops, early Alzheimers. I see we shared a bottle of red and a bottle of white. But I was correct about the chats with him. In the course of these we discover that he founded the city's legendary Delifonseca, a favourite of the youngsters. That's their curiosity satisfied.

We had been surprised by the emptiness of the place. Scousers clearly prefer later lunch, as it was full by the time we reached course two or three. A scallop ceviche with cucumber and gooseberry was a lovely thing with a foam. Two or three grains of salt would have made all the difference. As you'd expect from a high end place, seasonality was the watchword. I gave up counting the number of ways the kitchen had dealt with the Isle of Wight tomatoes. An ovation would have been appropriate.

There was more playfulness in the next offering, a "Scouse" lamb skewer. For anyone who doesn't know, Liverpudlians get their nickname from a dish called lobscouse, a Scandinavian or German stew featuring meat and veg. The connection between the stew and the skewer wasn't entirely clear, but very tasty it was.

If ovations were being delivered earlier, the beef required a standing one. The notion of this dish wasn't original, beef cooked a couple of ways, roscoff onions done three or four ways. But the execution could not have been bettered. By anyone. Anywhere. And I defy any Michelin starred saucier to produce a Bordelaise (red wine) sauce of this quality. A real depth of flavour but not one which had been reduced to a treacle. A contender for dish of the year.

Puds, as you know, are not particularly my thing, but we had a couple of very fine, summery examples. One featured strawberry and elderflower, the other roast peach, raspberry and tonka.

The sort of meal that leaves you purring. It's approaching 3.30 as we finish, and evening service starts at 5. Does anyone seem fazed or anxious? Are they trying to push us out of the door? No. The service has been performed by a variety of people, lovely folk all. Afterwards I exchange emails with Tom giving restaurant recommendations for his trip to Edinburgh with Paul to see a David Byrne concert. A return visit for Paul, who used to work there. You'll find the city the same as it ever was, I said*.

Reviewing the place last year Jay Rayner simply concluded, Go to Liverpool! Go to Manifest! Guv'nor, I concur.

*If you're not familiar with the popular beat combo, Talking Heads, of which David Byrne was a founding member, this hilarious joke will have sailed over your head. Look it up. It's not worth explaining.