First drinks: Took an age to make and frankly, weren't worth the wait. We ordered cocktails because they had an extensive list - and it's generally the best way to put a bar through its paces. But as the bartender began salting the rim of my glass with a saltshaker, it was obvious we'd made a poor choice. The resulting concoction was a sad excuse for a margarita - sickly sweet and missing that tequila punch. We switched to beers after that, which were an improvement but the service was still agonisingly slow.
The vibe is: Confused. The space formerly known as Sale Street has undergone a mini makeover to become Sweat Shop. The bar still sports most of the original decor, resulting in a hotchpotch assortment of genres and zones. It's part beer barn, part live rock venue, part diner and part club lounge. A return visit showed some improvement but it still feels like a work in progress. One that needs to be hurried along.
It smells of: Cheap disinfectant.
On the stereo: Jukebox classics designed to get the corporate accountancy crowd busting out their finger snaps. Think BeeGees and Beatles through to Amy Winehouse.
Room for improvement: Refine the menu. Refine the decor. Train your staff. Promote your own beers, which are brewed on site. Ditch the cocktails.
The perfect spot: To soak up some sun and beers on that infamous Sale St deck. But be warned, where once there was lush greenery and a water feature, now sit row upon row of picnic tables, crammed in like an Oktoberfest hall. Still, we don't doubt it will be packed come summer.
Most redeeming feature: The three house brews - pale ale, American ale and lager, which are available for sampling before you order.
