Enjoying drinks at a regular haunt, Dukes (Castlefield) we, for no other reason than the fact we have drunk too much already, decide to commandeer a black cab and instruct it to take us immediately to a bar I have heard of in Manchester that doesn't exist. I take full responsibility for this, though for the record I would like to shoulder the blame with the bottle of Pinot Grigio at Harvey Nichols earlier. After a few minutes drive, the cab then deposits us on Canal Street, heart of the Gay Quarter where we trawl the streets for decent bars and dodge a blood-spattering fight. Nice. The streets are safe enough in this part of town, nevertheless we're conscious it is nearly midnight and we appear to not have bevvies in our mits. I've since traced our random steps on a map to find exactly how we stumbled into it by chance - Obsidian Bar. In fact, we've heard about this bar, but wasn't sure where it was. Ignoring that we are not dressed to the nines (it's also meant to be a bit swank) we totter over (actually I'm tottering, not Phil - he's got a swagger going on) to the entrance. We're amazed that they let us in and proceed directly to the bar, which is extremely well lit for that time of night. The resident DJ is putting some tunes out at one end of the room and the vibe is lively - people are dressed very well here though we don't spot anyone from TV (I'm rubbish at this, having stood next to Kelly Osbourne in a VIP area at a festival last year and STILL not realising.) The drinks are perfect - cocktails galore, and for the type of venue we're in, very reasonable (£6.50-ish). The porn-star martini is my favourite arriving with a champagne shot. Phil's 'Old Fashioned' is creatively pimped up with raisin and apricot and the smile on his face tells me it's a winner. We therefore spend the remainder of the evening here choosing cocktails for each other and stumbling out the door at 2am (closing time). This place is a fantastic find, except for the lighting which is a tad too bright.Monday, 3 September 2007
Bar Review: Obsidian, Princess Street
Enjoying drinks at a regular haunt, Dukes (Castlefield) we, for no other reason than the fact we have drunk too much already, decide to commandeer a black cab and instruct it to take us immediately to a bar I have heard of in Manchester that doesn't exist. I take full responsibility for this, though for the record I would like to shoulder the blame with the bottle of Pinot Grigio at Harvey Nichols earlier. After a few minutes drive, the cab then deposits us on Canal Street, heart of the Gay Quarter where we trawl the streets for decent bars and dodge a blood-spattering fight. Nice. The streets are safe enough in this part of town, nevertheless we're conscious it is nearly midnight and we appear to not have bevvies in our mits. I've since traced our random steps on a map to find exactly how we stumbled into it by chance - Obsidian Bar. In fact, we've heard about this bar, but wasn't sure where it was. Ignoring that we are not dressed to the nines (it's also meant to be a bit swank) we totter over (actually I'm tottering, not Phil - he's got a swagger going on) to the entrance. We're amazed that they let us in and proceed directly to the bar, which is extremely well lit for that time of night. The resident DJ is putting some tunes out at one end of the room and the vibe is lively - people are dressed very well here though we don't spot anyone from TV (I'm rubbish at this, having stood next to Kelly Osbourne in a VIP area at a festival last year and STILL not realising.) The drinks are perfect - cocktails galore, and for the type of venue we're in, very reasonable (£6.50-ish). The porn-star martini is my favourite arriving with a champagne shot. Phil's 'Old Fashioned' is creatively pimped up with raisin and apricot and the smile on his face tells me it's a winner. We therefore spend the remainder of the evening here choosing cocktails for each other and stumbling out the door at 2am (closing time). This place is a fantastic find, except for the lighting which is a tad too bright.
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