Liverpool’s hospitality scene is changing. So why are we reluctant to shout about it?

If you time your next visit to Nord for golden hour, when the low winter sun glints off the silvery shards of the skyscrapers in St Paul's Square, and office workers are spilling out onto the piazza, you could enjoy a fleeting frisson of displacement.

With its retro-futuristic interiors, and smart city-types milling about, walking into Nord feels like you're entering a lobby bar just off Sixth Avenue in Midtown Manhattan. I'd place it somewhere around West 50th Street; you're booked for pre-theatre dinner before catching a Broadway show, and you've a secret assignation with a literary agent.

Sure, you’re just steps away from the Tesco Express and Greggs. But don’t let that trouble you. It’s good to pretend we're a contender. 

If Nord feels dislocated, that's kind of the point. It's a portal to another Liverpool: a Liverpool that's confident, global and — OK, I'll drag one of my least favourite words out for effect, as it's Christmas — a little bit sexy.

But Nord is also very not New York where it really matters. Its front of house team are friendly and attentive, and don’t perform a weary eye roll as I falter for a nanosecond before I settle on a cocktail: “Oh, don’t worry. Take your time,” head server Abby says, “we’ve just got a new winter drinks menu, and they’re all gorgeous.” Nord's story started in the pre-Covid times. Bruntwood, The Plaza's landlords, wanted to animate the building's cavernous ground floor atrium. The idea was simple, but also — for Liverpool — a little bit radical: bring a sleek hotel vibe into this much-nipped-and-tucked 60s office block. 

Wait, what? Here? In the dead centre of the Commercial District where, come five o'clock, those silvery skyscrapers are as devoid of life as the buddleish-choked wastelands of Pall Mall? Doesn’t every new restaurant have to open on Castle Street these days?

"Bruntwood were thinking New York," says Matt Farrell, self-confessed food obsessive and co-founder of Nord’s creators, GSK Hospitality – the driving force behind a slew of exciting made-in-Liverpool ventures from Bold Street Coffee to Duke Street Market – “but they were also looking at London too," Matt says, mentioning the punchy and very cool Standard Hotel in Kings Cross, with its tattooed wait staff, slouchy sofas and seventies Milanese tiling. A breakout space for workers, and post-workers, to mill and mooch about in, over artichoke risotto and single malts. Imagine Liverpool doing something so gloriously unnecessary. 

If anyone could pull it off, Matt — and GSG’s other co-founder, creative and beverage guru John Ennis, together with Executive Chef Daniel Heffy — could.

Liverpool has seen its share of false prophets come and go in the almost-twenty-years since Capital of Culture. People who talked big, but delivered little. Luxury new apartment blocks that faltered at the lift shaft-stage, blingy new hotels that threatened to turn bombed out churches into influencer-chic wedding venues. 

Not that any of this incessant white noise turned Matt and John's heads. They quietly kept them down, focussing on their own revolution: to give the city a new breed of after dark adventures. Fun, yes — this is still Liverpool after all — but confident too. Playful yet aspirational spaces that punched the city's offer into the Premier League, said that we were more than the dive bars of Mathew Street, the themed playpens of Cains Brewery Village and the Jägermeister-fuelled euphoria of Concert Square.

The team's first venture, back in 2009, was a corner cocktail bar in a Ropewalks area which, back then, stood at something of a crossroads too. Cream had long since closed, and the area was scrabbling for its next act. ‘’We did most of the fit-out ourselves, with help from friends and family,” Matt recalls. “It was an incredible time. I’ll never forget it.” 

"If you'd have asked us back then what our ambitions were, we would have been happy with just that one venue," Matt admits. "But somehow we hit on something — I think we were in the right place at the right time," he says.

Maybe. But they had the right idea too. They knew, even before the city knew, what it needed. One of the city's first — and definitely most creative — independent cocktail bars: Santa's flaming cocktails, exposed brick and a pitch-perfect soundtrack instantly elevated it into the city's best-loved locations.

The 'stines and brines' of Seel Street’s Salt Dog Slims followed a few years later, with its need-to-know speakeasy bar, 81, hidden away upstairs: its gleaming back bar lined with the kind of top-drawer liquors Liverpool hadn't seen outside the pages of Wallpaper magazine.

"A cool space on its own isn't enough. The warmth of the hospitality is more important. It's about how you make people feel.” You shouldn't, Matt believes, splurge so much cash on mid-century modern sofas that you’ve no cash left to force a smile. "Hospitality is way more than food and drink.”

This is the GSG play book in a nutshell: sophistication without the snobbery. It's a delicate balance — one that has seen the city's hospitality landscape lurch from one crisis to the next.

"Over time, just like us, our venues have matured,” Matt reflects. “Some of the concepts have had their day. We have to be mindful of what's happening out there.”

Out, by 2022, was the 'Big Mac' pizzas of Santa Maluco's dive bar-cum-pizzeria on Castle Street: the group cunningly exiting just before the world hit peak pizza. It is their Bold Street Coffee brand, saved from oblivion, dusted down, and now opening its sixth venue in Glossop on the edge of the Peak District.

"I travel a lot,” says Matt. “If you're not aware of what's happening and become too closed off, you don't have a right to be in the hospitality industry in this city. Liverpool, its history, and its culture, has always been open-minded. Especially its food. It's just that, over the past few decades, that melting pot of influences hasn't been there. We're not offering something new, we're bringing back all those flavours that people have been pining for."

Nowhere is this more evident than in Nord – the team's ultimate statement of intent.

"We went through so many problems trying to get this off the ground," Matt says. "Covid hit, and suddenly there were no office workers to attract. By the time we opened, with so many people working from home, the footfall in this area had dropped off a cliff".

The delay did help in one way. They were able to encourage Liverpool chef Daniel Heffy (ex Buyer's Club), recently back from a stint at Stockholm's three Michelin-starred Frantzén, to join as Executive Chef.

"We've always had timing on our side," Matt laughs, "well, Covid aside.” 

We settle down to sample Nord's latest Chef’s Menu: a procession of pitch-perfect courses showcasing silkily-smooth Japanese savoury custard (yes, that’s a thing) with lobster, delicate poached cod in a zingy green sorrel sauce, and the ‘last of the season’s raspberries’ transformed into a jammily moreish sorbet. But it’s the 30-day-matured beef tartare in a tallow emulsion that I’ll be dreaming about for the rest of the week.

The name Nord was chosen for its Scandi nod, but also as a celebration of Liverpool's northern heritage — “everything’s sourced from within 30 miles of the city,” Abby tells us as another of Heffy’s magical dishes, crisp slivers of seabass crudo with black radish, arrives, “this is my favorite.”

Liverpool-born Abby is just one of over GSK’s 200-plus team: working their way up the hospitality ladder. Many of the group’s top tier started as part time helpers — gaining the kind of world-class experience that just wasn’t available in the city a generation ago. 

“Abby’s great,” Matt says as she leaves, “she’s the perfect representation of Scouse hospitality. Well, Nord hospitality really.” 

The team worked on the concept and the environment with Manchester-based interior design team Phaus. The resulting domed plexiglas light shades, slinky bucket seats and pod-like booths are equal parts 1960's Barcelona hotel and Kubrick sci-fi film set.

It didn't take off immediately.

"It's a unique space," Matt says, "and maybe it's a bit uncompromising. It struggled for the first couple of years. There's just no life in the area. But we stuck with it. We didn't want to panic."

"We're glad we didn't. The concept has got stronger, and we've pushed the menu in a more confident direction. The location was a big hindrance, now it's a benefit. It's a little bit hidden, and I like that people have to find it and that works to its favour…"

Despite this, the restaurant has had scant attention from the national press — just one major broadsheet critic has bothered to visit in the past two years.

"It's frustrating. Manchester gets so many plaudits. The broadsheets gravitate to Manchester. Jay Rayner gave us a great review in The Observer, but it's slim pickings other than that."

Matt pauses, and I can sense the careful calibration of what comes next. He's not a complainer — but there's a frustration here that needs airing.

"It starts here,” he says. “If the city doesn’t believe in itself, what hope have we got? We're just not promoting the right things as a city. We never hear about the people making real, significant changes. Look at Maray, they’ve just opened in Chester. It’s not just us — lots of people are doing amazing things here. I've spoken to councillors about it: but it's like we don't fit into the perceived narrative of what Liverpool is supposed to be."

Jay Rayner called the restaurant ambitious without being overbearing — and that's the key to their success, isn't it? They still love what they do, even when the city's marketing machinery – and its press – seem hellbent on ignoring them.

"Liverpool still has that independent spirit, and I'd never want to lose that. Maybe Manchester has lost it a bit. It feels like a capital city, and we're proud to have some of our brands doing really well there. But this is where our hearts are. If we're clever we should be able to push forward."

And they are. The Duke Street Food Market opened to immediate acclaim, a sprawling celebration of everything Liverpool's food scene has become. They’ve even resurrected Hightown’s sole pub, on the very edge of 0151 territory. It’s within reach of the three-Michelin-starred Moor Hall, one of only ten in the country. 

This week it was voted Britain's best restaurant in the prestigious Harden’s Guide (Nord made the list too). It’s just on the border of the City Region. But, Matt says: "When do you hear the city talk about it?” Matt says, a sense of exasperation creeping in. “Things are happening here. We need to shout about it.”

Still, Liverpool is seen as a happy-hour, party-ready city. Bongo's Bingo, stag and hen bashes and football weekenders see to that. Ten years ago, eating out was all about jaw-dislocating burgers and halloumi fries with everything. Indulgence over quality. Now we're taking things a touch more seriously, but the city's narrative hasn't quite caught up.

"It needs to actually reflect what's happening here,” Matt says, “but we can't let that distract us. We just need to focus on what we're doing."

Back at Nord, golden hour has given way to a thick black December night, and the restaurant feels like a space capsule, hurtling through the inky abyss. A little pocket of civilization, humanity and warmth with a side order of Edge and Sons’ venison with grand veneur sauce. I’m in no hurry to leave.

In a week where The Post’s editor Abi has unearthed a brilliant but bleak tale about greed and food bank theft, it’s good to know there are people in this city who want to feed us well. Body and soul.