During an evening spent at this steak joint just north of Canary Wharf the strains of Journey, Springsteen and Queen reach our ears.

If you’re partial to a 1980s power ballad while you carve your cow, it’s not a bad bet.

Our waiter shares his name with Abba’s Fernando and he is equally easy on the ear.

He’s knowledgeable and sensitive enough to offer an in-depth wine tasting when we express interest beyond a bottle of house, revealing himself as a significant asset to the place in the process.

Manhattan, however, is its soundtrack. A place filled with comfortable familiarity for the stomachs of Americans.

And, unlike its steak knives, (proffered by Fernando in a polished wooden box as he encourages us to select a colour that reflects our moods) it lacks a cutting edge.

The fresh melange of meat in my crab cake (£12) is pleasantly non-uniform; a sweet reminder we’re within a claw’s reach of Billingsgate.

But my New York strip (£27) has travelled from the States, wet-ageing on the way and, despite being accurately cooked, it is over-salted in places and acquires extra jet-lag from an overpowering, basil-dominated chimichurri.

On a more positive note the sides (from £4) are very good; crispy little fries and creamed spinach with more than a hint of cheese.

My off-beat steak was enhanced with a glass of earthy Aruma Malbec 2013 (£44 per bottle) that harmonised will with the well seasoned sections.

A sign perhaps that, when it pushes itself, Manhattan is a place that can deliver.

So, in light of its potential, a return visit? I would, my friend, Fernando.

Go to manhattangrill.co.uk .