THE Hard Rock Cafe brand is phenomenally successful and, in many ways, a strange phenomenon.
Think about it, the food is no more than average, and yet there's an unhealthy amount of folks who'll happily shun local cuisine when holidaying abroad and instead make a dash for the nearest branch.
Odder still, a lot of those same folks are see
mingly intent on collecting all manner of merchandise bearing the cafe logo and location of each branch they visit. I've never understood why anyone would want to do that, but hey, everyone to their own.
In fairness, the Hard Rock has always been more about the atmosphere than the grub. As such, for those interested in music memorabilia, a visit to one of their many branches is a must – at least once in a lifetime. After all, shared between the chain's 143-odd restaurants is the world's largest collection of rock 'n' roll ephemera – autographed guitars, outfits from world tours and rare photographs are to be found.
Once inside the George Street branch, I couldn't help but feel there must have been thousands of people simultaneously having more or less the exact same experience all around the world. It's probably what attracts so many to the Hard Rock in the first place, though – that sense of familiarity.
This is a place for he who goes for what he knows. And to commemorate the experience, he'll even buy the T-shirt for his daughter. Like I say though, everyone to their own.
After being greeted and seated by our shiny happy waitress, menus were promptly placed before us and, having placed our orders, I set about scanning the room to see what I could find on those memorabilia-clad walls.
These included James Brown's pink satin stage vest (fetching it was, too); a sombrero worn by Elvis in his movie Fun in Acapulco; and Jimi Hendrix's London to New York airline ticket dating from 20 February 1970.
Admittedly, that's a decent haul for George Street. That's also enough about the decor.
Despite all the wall-hanging distractions, the Hard Rock is primarily a place to eat.
As we were in an American-style diner, I decided not to go for fajitas, sizzlingly good as they looked at the table opposite. No, like Elvis, cheeseburgers have long been a guilty pleasure and, after spying one of those 10oz big boys topped off with three thick slices of Swiss cheese, my mind was made. The King may be dead, but his love for burgers lives on in me.
My comrade in gluttony had little hesitation herself, quickly plumping for the Rock Chop – a large, centre-cut smoked rib pork chop, grilled and basted with a sweet maple-mustard glaze. Served with white cheddar smashed potatoes, fresh vegetables and a Granny Smith apple-mango chutney, it got the thumbs up.
The only complaint – and a small one at that – was that she'd have preferred if the apple-mango chutney that covered it had been heated.
My burger, on the other hand, was exactly what you might expect from Hard Rock Cafe – hits the spot every time and is big enough to fill a small army.
We weren't finished there, though. Having walked through the restaurant doors with gaping hungers and the intention of "eating like pigs", it simply wouldn't have made any sense to snub the dessert menus. And we didn't. I'd initially set sights on the hot fudge brownie sundae, but, when our waitress said the whipped cream machine had conked out on her, I decided to keep it simple and go instead for the strawberry ice-cream.
Also unable to resist temptation, my partner went for the mango sorbet. To her credit, though, she passed up the chance to pay an additional fee to have it served in a take-home souvenir Martini glass. A step too far, that.
With tinnitus-inducing music blaring out of countless big screens, the plan had been to get out of there as soon as the plates were cleared. However, the plan changed when we spotted a couple at the table opposite sipping brightly coloured cocktails, and so Margaritas were ordered.
They were quite good, but we've had better. Partly, not enough tequila; partly because you're not often forced to drink them down to the dulcet tones of Def Leppard. All in all, not a bad meal, but would I want to eat in the Hard Rock Cafe again? Nah... been there, done that, didn't buy the t-shirt.
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Hard Rock Cafe, George Street, 0131-260 3000 