Dogs N Dough hid down deep dank stairs, accessed via a nondescript seedy alleyway. Wow, this place was dark. I wondered if Frankie & Benny’s and Spearmint Rhino had formed the super-franchise I’d long dreamt of. The décor was pure Americana; the kind of interior design that doesn’t exist anywhere in America. Dogs N Dough was an adult Disneyland of a restaurant -a guilty pleasure of sorts.
One aspect of American culture that wasn’t imported was frighteningly zealous customer service. The Dogs N Dough staff were OK; things arrived when necessary but in a rather despondent manner. I didn’t need my ego massaging, but I did expect some enthusiasm, which wasn’t there. I ordered nearly all Dogs N Dough’s bourbons (not at once); some at £10 each might have sparked the tinder of rapport, but they may as well have been JD & cokes.
The Dogs N Dough food was gloriously unhealthy; an indulgence, something eaten with an embarrassed smile. The dogs were tasty but didn’t overwhelm. I wasn’t thinking: “I know this is killing me, but it’s sure as hell well worth it”. They were however impressively impractical to eat. I love chilli con Carne; forcibly inhaling it through my nostrils after every bite of dog pushed our friendships limits. Call me old fashioned, but a plate, knife and fork work well for me. The pizzas were fine, appropriately served in a cardboard box, as they were literally standard takeaway pizzas. Dogs N Dough kindly catered for the obese, insane underbelly of Manchester, by offering pizzas for main course and dessert.
Despite its city centre location, Dogs N Dough was priced keener than Manchester’s glut of gourmet fast-food eateries. It had a fun, kitsch, laid-back atmosphere that Manchester does so well. Dogs N Dough was a great man-cave to watch sports in, but those excited by the food need to get out more.
Dogs N Dough Manchester
Atmosphere 7 Cost 7 Quality 5 Service 5