by joellevand

May 15, 2005

From journal Midweek Weekend in Manhattan

The Hard Rock Café in New York City may not be the first Hard Rock Café in the world, but it is without a doubt the definitive restaurant in the franchise. Decked out in what I can only insist is the best music memorabilia, from a smashed-up Nine Inch Nails keyboard (look for it on the column opposite the toilets on the upper floor) to signed Nirvana posters, this one will make any music fan happy.

I first found it after returning from the first Hard Rock I ever visited in Cancun, Mexico in 1999. The guy I was dating at the time was a Nine Inch Nails devote and had heard rumors that there was a signed photo of Trent Reznor being displayed in the New York store. We’d spent the day scouring import shops, ending up with two NIN import singles from the three-story Borders in the base of the World Trade Center, and after confirming the scoop from a clerk there, we headed to Midtown to find out for ourselves.

Since that day, I’ve made the Hard Rock Café in New York a stop in every trip I make to the city, whether it’s a weekend with David or a Christmas shopping trip with my mom. I’ve turned my entire family onto the franchise via the New York spot, and any virgin to the chain will be instantly devoted, and not just for decoration. With the combined ambience of a chain restaurant and a city-centre indie club that often includes live, local music, this Hard Rock makes it hard to hate, even if you do tend to rally against The Man and sellouts.

The staff is not only friendly and accommodating, but they’re possibly the coolest people in the city. The bartenders especially are to be commended, as I’ve often been known to have a weird taste in drinks, ranging from pints of Guinness to dry white wine to Cosmopolitans to Jager Bombers and crazy concoctions mixed up at local pubs. Often, I’ve been given strange looks and attitude, and even straight-out refused service based on the strange things I’ve ordered, but the bar staff is incredibly understanding and will mix anything you ask them to, no matter how potentially toxic it may be. Same goes for the kitchen staff, who will cook what you want, how you want it. Want your burger minus the meat? You’ve got it. Want your steak so rare it’s just been run through a war room? Done. It’s the one place where the customer is always right; the food is always perfect; and if the food isn’t to your liking, you can feel safe that when you send your food back the new order won’t come with a free splat of spit or other bodily fluids.

Of course, quality isn’t cheap: a meal and a few drinks between David and I knocked us back $70, and even just lunch with my mother and a bottle of wine cost us about $40.

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