Hard Rock... Robbie Williams. Hard Rock... Robbie Williams. Sorry, the two don't go in the same sentence no matter how hard I try. Hey, I don't care if he's from Manchester, I'd rather see Liam flicking the V's at me as I drink my strawberry daiquiri than Robbie's gog-eyed excited mug. Then again if we're talking Manchester, Hard Rock's windows should be emblazoned with images of The Smiths with Moz in his big girl's blouse and NHS glasses, and the Stone Roses and Happy Mondays dancing around like drugged up morons. Maybe New Order and Inspiral Carpets, James, The Charlatans... we could go on forever.
Manchester's Hard Rock offering has been here ever since the dawn of (time) The Printworks, and I for one was excited about it. You've got to remember, these were dark times. The Arndale Centre had been bombed, the adorable little rickety pubs in Exchange Square were having to be rebuilt brick by brick. And then along came Hard Rock. So American. So exotic. Burgers bigger than your face and cocktails the colour of watermelons. Breathtaking!
And I've had a funny old relationship with it over the years. When I came here for my 18th birthday, I had one of the greatest meals of all time, a Portobello mushroom sandwich on delicious floury ciabatta bread with fries, coleslaw, the works. I'd always liked the nachos here and the desserts were to die for, absolutely gargantuan so best get two spoons. Then temporarily the menu changed. The Portobello mushroom was gone. I went in there on a really bad date and ordered a salad, knowing full well that in Hard Rock a salad is just about as bad for you as a burger. I thought, meh, it'll be better than the date. Oh, wrong! I got a pile of iceberg lettuce, a couple of huge impossible to chew Beefeater tomatoes, and no dressing. I repeat - no dressing. Hard Rock had made me a meal straight from the webpages of pro-anorexia campaigns.
Toto, we weren't in Kansas anymore.
So I then directed my attention from the food to the beverages, and one of my ultimate guilty pleasures - Hard Rock cocktails. I don't know what it is about me and blended drinks, I think because my life was bereft of them for so many years I've been making up for it. The Hard Rock strawberry daiquiri... if I could buy that in litres, I would. It's like a juicy frozen smoothie sorbet full of rum. Of course, its quality depends entirely on which member of bar staff makes it for you, but it's more often a hit than a miss. Other greats include the Tropical Hurricane, which they did have to change the name of with respect to the people of New Orleans during Hurricane Katrina, and that lovely Alabama Slammer. Not frozen, but good. I could be losing all my cocktail cool points right here but yum.
Then it had a revamp. I'd come in for a cocktail (of course) and half the café would be sectioned off for building. They were fashioning a ceiling and a floor in the shape of a guitar. It looked amazing. The memorabilia is ace, you could spend hours looking at it. Who knew that Lenny Kravitz was so thin and tiny? His jacket's here, it looks like it could fit a five year old. Nuno Bettencourt's signed something, and I've seen him live and he's just lovely. Other great things? I was sat having a late afternoon drink (of course) with some friends and on came the video for 'Weird Science', the song brought out by Oingo Boingo (Danny Elfman's band, Elfman being the composer Tim Burton always uses). Amazing. When on earth do I ever get to see that? (Okay, these were the days before YouTube.)
It scores extra points from me anyway for constantly playing REM. There seems to also be a playlist obsession with Melissa Etheridge also, possibly in attempt to draw in Manchester's lesbian crowd as we are of course the gay capital of the UK. Don't argue with me, Queer as Folk was originally set in Canal Street, not Canada.
Where was I. Oh yes, the menu. Back on form. I'll forgive them that little blip, and now, you can't knock the grub. Okay, it's dreadful for vegetarians, but come on, this is American steakhouse fare, and the veggie burgers are some of the nicest I've ever tasted. Plus I eat meat now, and I've got masses more stuff to try. Plus-plus, the sides are great and big enough to be a meal in themselves. Indulgent, yummy, appeals to the kid in all of us and of course a great place to bring the cooler, more discerning child. If I have any anklebiters I plan to drag them here all the time, well, in moderation. Eric Clapton's beloved pig sandwich may be off the menu but there's still plenty here to give Change 4 Life a heart attack. Guilty. Pleasure. read more