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Last week in Manchester, I met a local in a bar who insisted that Oasis once wrote a song about lasagne that’s better than anything Blur has put out. Little did he know that, that very night, lasagne would become a dish worth singing about.
Bruco arrived on Manchester’s north west dining scene a year ago and has quickly become a favourite in Ancoats, the once-industrial district now reborn as “Little Italy”. Housed in the former home of popular bakery Trove, it had big shoes to fill – but Bruco has quickly carved out its own identity.
From its tall windows, you can take in the looming red-brick mills outside, while the endlessly high ceilings lend a touch of drama to a spot otherwise tucked discreetly between blocks a Spiderman stunt double may once have scaled. It feels like the kind of place food lovers might proudly guide friends to, leading them around an unremarkable corner into a glowing universe. There’s a thrill in stumbling across somewhere that still feels like a secret, even as word spreads.
Inside, Bruco is tastefully bold. Its green and dusky pink colour scheme and cheeky wall art photography of women slurping spaghetti from a boat set the tone for a menu that’s equally playful: truffle and ’nduja honey flatbreads, prosciutto draped over both carb-laden and fruity treats, parmesan piled high, aged ribeye steaks and grilled prawns. I watched strips of prosciutto balancing on gnocco fritto sail past, and couldn’t resist; when mine arrived, they were every bit the crispy, airy treat I was hoping for.
The crowd skews young and lively, typical of this hip Ancoats pocket, but the low-hanging lights and fleecy seats soften the edges, making it somewhere you want to linger on an in-between evening – warm enough to tempt you outside, but cosy enough to keep you indoors. There’s terrace seating, but really, this is the kind of dining room designed to fill you up and hold you for hours.
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The short rib lasagne that could spark its own Oasis vs Blur debate – dense, saucy and worth singing about (Bethan Kapur)
The menu’s stars, unexpectedly, were the vegetables. The broccolini – responsible for the dramatic bursts of flame you occasionally see erupting from the open kitchen – was unforgettable. These long-stemmed beauties are not only proof that a plate of greens can be thrilling, they come with perfect crunch, parmesan and toasted garlic, bringing enough umami to feel like half your daily vegetable and protein intake. The anchovy lettuce pulled the same trick, its deceptively simple leaves dripping with savoury intensity.
Bruco calls itself a small plates restaurant, with dishes arriving as and when, but the portions are generous. The menu coyly describes the mains as “a little bigger”, which is an understatement. They’re banquets in disguise. Order multiple, King-like dishes if you dare. Which… we did. We couldn’t decide between the short beef rib lasagne and lamb mint, both popular, both delicious, both so densely packed with sauce and meat that you can barely see the pasta.
You might worry that the bigger the portion, the less impactful the flavour, but they don’t skimp here. Even a modest number of plates will leave you satisfied – and at prices that feel manageable for the scale of what’s served. If you’ve ever found yourself let down by small plates dining that piles up the bill without filling you up, Bruco is the antidote.
To truly feel like you’re winning, I recommend a glass of the Cuvee Vittoria sparkling wine for something that tastes far more luxurious than its price tag. I was relieved it didn’t veer too sweet as I craved something sharper to cut through such a heavy dinner. The cocktails are equally well-judged. I tried both a Hugo and a Negroni. The latter was textbook: bitter, syrupy and smoothed out by just the right amount of vermouth.
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Proof that even greens can steal the show: Bruco’s parmesan-dusted broccolini arrives with crunch, garlic and a touch of fire from the open kitchen (Bethan Kapur)
Thankfully, I have one of those magical separate stomachs because dessert continued the theme of abundance. The tiramisu was yet another dish that could have been shared between four people, which is no criticism, though I’d have liked more cream to balance the sponge. The best tiramisus strike a 50:50 ratio, and this one leaned more 90:10. Still, there was something joyful about diving into such a slab of coffee-soaked sponge at the end of the meal. Better still were the cannoli, plumply stuffed with fresh ricotta and carrying a delicate flavour combination of strawberries and basil. The cubes of glistening fruit tumbling across the plate added a delicate sweetness that worked beautifully with the filling.
Bruco provides exactly the sort of simple, yet indulgent energy I crave in my Italian food, but it’s far from basic. With some of the biggest small plates I’ve seen, rooted in tradition but refreshed for a younger, hungrier Manchester. It’s not hard to imagine the Italian community that first settled in Ancoats more than a century ago nodding in approval at the pastas and fritti, even as the kitchen gives them a modern spin.
Like its owner, Ethan, the whole place feels youthful and bright-eyed. With seasonal dishes already rotating in and out, it’s the sort of restaurant you return to, eager to see what’s changed and what surprises are waiting next. I know I am.
5 Murray St, Ancoats, Manchester, M4 6HS | Closed Monday and Tuesday, 9am-12am Wednesday to Sunday | Book here | brucomanchester.co.uk
Dining and Cooking