Manchester, my loves, you’ve done it again. After our hit-and-miss royal stay at The Edwardian, we dusted off our crowns, fluffed our feathers, and swanned over to The Ivy Spinningfields Brasserie. And darling, this one delivered.
We perched ourselves upstairs on the very top floor — “The Ivy on The Roof” if you want to be fancy about it — and oh, what a gorgeous spot. Light, airy, buzzing with that rooftop energy that screams “yes, darling, we are fabulous.” But let me tell you, another two degrees hotter and I would have been demanding a parasol, a fan, and possibly a light misting service. It was borderline sauna chic, and this Queen does not glisten. She sweats — and not glamorously.
Now, let’s talk staff. Good? Yes. Exceptional? Not quite. They were pleasant and smiley, but slower than my Prince getting out of bed on a school morning. I had an empty glass staring at me more times than I care to admit. And darling, if you want my money, keep my glass filled — I’m not hard to figure out. They could have sold me half the wine list if they’d been on it. Instead, I had to wave them down like I was hailing a taxi in Piccadilly.
The Ivy themselves describe it as “an elegant escape surrounded by lush greenery in the heart of Manchester.” Which is marketing speak for: we’ve covered everything in fake plants and charged you for the privilege. But honestly? It works. The Pavilion is gorgeous. Downstairs you’ve got the brasserie classics, one floor up is Ivy Asia — complete with DJs, cocktails, and all the drama — and then, right at the top, you’ve got the rooftop oasis where we sat. Panoramic views, lush décor, and a menu that blends brasserie staples with a hint of Asia. It’s glam, it’s Instagram, it’s very Manchester boujee.
Being the refined monarch that I am, I kicked things off with the Roasted Scallops (£16.95). They came with crispy potato rösti, pea purée, Parmesan sauce, and a sexy shaving of truffle. And yes, they were tasty. Nothing mind-blowing, but a very pleasant start. A polite little round of applause, not a standing ovation.
My King went for the Heirloom Tomato and Watermelon Salad (£11.95). Plant-based cream cheese, pistachios, olives, and a tomato-sherry dressing. Fresh, summery, and yes, he devoured it — though I caught him giving my scallops the eye like they were a mistress he wasn’t supposed to text.
Now this is where the Ivy really started to strut.
I had the Mediterranean Sea Bass Fillet (£26.50), which came lounging on a bed of smoked aubergine with toasted almonds, olives, and a tomato-sherry dressing. Absolutely delicious. Elegant but satisfying, and once again I stayed true to my current “no meat” attempt. (This Queen deserves a medal for effort alone, honestly.)
Meanwhile, the King, being the carnivorous creature he is, locked onto the Ivy Burger (£19.95). Grass-fed beef, brioche bun, horseradish ketchup, thick-cut chips. Of course, His Majesty doesn’t do “basic” — he added West Country Cheddar (£2.95) and dry-cured bacon (£3.50). The man builds burgers like an architect designs skyscrapers. And yes, he loved it. A proper meaty feast for a royal appetite.
Ah, the fun part. The Ivy’s drinks menu is extensive, creative, and frankly fabulous. I was so tempted by the cocktails (they had some absolute stunners), but alas, I’m currently trying to reduce sugar. (My waistline says thank you, but my heart cries into a martini glass.) So instead, I sipped on a glass of The Ivy Rosé de Provence (£15.50). A light, crisp, elegant pink — a solid choice when you want to keep it cute.
Yes, they had the usual suspects like Whispering Angel and Rock Angel, but I wanted to switch things up. The Ivy Rosé did the job.
The King? Oh, you already know. Veuve Clicquot Yellow Label (£18). Classic, reliable, crisp — but my darling royal was disappointed not to see more variety by the glass. (Though honestly, put bubbles in front of him and he’ll drink them without complaint.)
Now, here’s where things went from “delightful” to “I’m moving in.” I wasn’t going to have dessert, because sugar reduction and all that. But then… oh, then… the Vanilla and White Chocolate Cheesecake (£12.75) arrived at the table.
Golden, creamy perfection with a mango and passionfruit filling and a tropical sorbet on the side. One look and I was lost. One bite and I was ready to abdicate my throne for this cheesecake. My King and I shared (romantic, right?), though I’ll admit I considered stabbing his fork hand more than once.
It was, without exaggeration, the best cheesecake of my life.
Here’s how it all shook out, darling:
Overall experience: 8/10. A fabulous evening with a few flaws (staff, keep the glasses filled, please). But we’ll absolutely be back next time we’re in Manchester, because the Ivy is serving glamour with a side of cheesecake and that’s exactly my kind of party.
