I moved house earlier this year. While my new place is what estate agents euphemistically refer to as ‘a fixer-upper’, in reality it’s a bungalow built in 1988 which has remained largely the same since its inception. 

The untouched decor should scream 80s primary colours but what I actually have feels like a 70s throwback. When I saw the pull-down ceiling light in the dining room, I realised I was living in Abigail’s Party. Needless to say, the renovation will be substantial and expensive. 

As I sit in one of Manchester’s newest hotels, I wonder what the Treehouse designers thought when they saw the existing space. Another 70s classic, the Renaissance Hotel has long been a blight on the skyline, its concrete façade considered an eyesore squatting on the city centre’s main thoroughfare. Locals were surprised when, following its closure in 2020, developers said they intended to repurpose rather than demolish. I wonder if they had to deal with any retractable monstrosities in their dining areas. 

Today, what Mancunians referred to as the Ramada has shed its outdated skin and been reborn as, in the words of the owners, ‘a Manchester playground, where modern magic meets childhood wonder, and every detail is a playful nod to the spirit of discovery, blending local flavour with creative charm’. I’ve not seen the rooms but, if the restaurant is anything to go by, they’ve had a good stab at achieving this lofty goal. 

Pip, pip!

Pip is Mary-Ellen McTague‘s new venture. You might have seen her on BBC’s Great British Menu or read one of her foodie columns in the national press. Her CV also includes sous chef under Heston Blumenthal at The Fat Duck. Closer to home, she’s revered for her stewardship of the erstwhile Aumbry, a Prestwich eatery which, on tasting its frothy potato and wild garlic soup, I wrote that ‘the garlic is foraged locally (natch) and there’s some kind of super-duper machine involved to achieve garlic air which, if truth be told, may be the best thing I have ever inhaled’.

Needless to say, my expectations for Pip were high. First impressions confirmed that the designers had stayed true to the ‘Treehouse’ theme. I’m in the process of crafting a girl cave in my newly acquired garage – part potting area, part shed, part eclectic hideaway – so this was right in my wheelhouse. If I can even come close to the Treehouse aesthetic, I’ll be happy. More is more at Pip. It shouldn’t work, but it does. I imagine that part of the approach is to encourage walk-ins, the lifeblood of city centre restaurants, and to make an ad-hoc hotel meal less intimidating. Given the quality of the menu, I hope it works.

This being Mary-Ellen, Pip offers above-ordinary fare. Options include snacks, small plates, large plates, and puddings, all pretty reasonably priced given the restaurant’s central location. For me, snacks usually comprise a sneaky pack of Quavers and some peanut M&M’s. Here there were split pea chips (crispy exterior and an inner undefinably moreish texture) with mushroom ketchup. As a ketchup purist, I baulked at the condiment but was quickly won over. Hot on the heels came rhubarb ketchup, smeared alongside lighter-than-frickin-air smoked chalk stream trout and mustard cream. Mary-Ellen was proper messing with my lifelong tomato ketchup love affair. 

My dining companion and I hoovered up the Old Winchester Cheese gougères, managing only to make appreciate noises while we stuffed our faces, before moving on to the hibiscus glazed beets. After tasting these little beauties, I imagine that other root vegetables are well jealous when they finally reach a plate. 

As for the mains, the grilled day boat fish (lemon sole) melted in the mouth quicker than a sherbet flying saucer. I requested a spoon to scoop up the bergamot and cockle broth and remain convinced that, if served as a standalone soup, this would be a bestseller. 

After a meal which transported me back to the heady days of Mary-Ellen and her culinary triumphs, the dessert was rather a disappointment. The description promised great things – poached rhubarb, rosewater cream and black pepper meringue – but the end result was a mash-up, more squishy mess than grand finale. I couldn’t finish it. 

That said, I’ll be back. Anyone who convinces me to try (and love) alternative ketchups is a winner in my book. 

Words and images by Helen Nugent, Editor of Northern Soul

 

For more information about Pip at Treehouse, Manchester, click here.