‘I ate the ‘Messi Sandwich’ – it was worth walking to the wrong restaurant for’

I entered this industry to do one thing and one thing only – report on my sporting heroes.

Four years of university, two degrees, hundreds of hours spent in Arctic press boxes in the lower echelons of the Hampshire senior leagues and hours of online zoom lectures (cheers Covid) later, I was strolling into London to report on one of my biggest heroes – Lionel Messi…well, sort of.

Well, it was a sandwich he created. It’s not the MLS or the World Cup, but it’s close enough if you ask me! While the GOAT (he just is, sorry Cristiano Ronaldo fans) was making MLS players look like little kids on his US debut, I was across the pond, sitting at the Hard Rock Cafe in Piccadilly Circus, awaiting Messi’s creation.

The Messi Sandwich.

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Messi’s footballing journey began with hardship and so did my journey towards his sandwich. Except mine was entirely self-inflicted. As a man who aims for efficiency and precision, I was overjoyed to realise I was on course to walk through the giant doors and step onto the red carpet at Hard Rock Cafe at the exact agreed time of 7:30pm.

I smugly bowled up towards the manager, introduced myself and very proudly announced that I, Patrick Austen-Hardy (no, that is not a made up name) was perfectly on time. As a wave of embarrassment and awkwardness passed over the manager, I noticed something was wrong.

“Are you at the right restaurant,” he asked. In my defence, I was not completely wrong. I was at the right establishment, just the wrong location. I was at the Hard Rock Cafe near Hyde Park, not Piccadilly Circus.

Do you want to try the Messi Sandwich? Let us know in the comments section below

After walking away with my tail between my legs and a fractured ego, I stumbled out of sight and broke into the trot every Brit breaks into when they know they are running late but don’t want to suffer the embarrassment of running in public. After finding my way to Piccadilly Circus, no thanks to Google Maps, which seems to forget what’s left and what’s right when in the Big Smoke, I found my way to the right establishment.

I stepped in and found myself staring the seven-time Ballon d’Or winner in the eyes. A gigantic poster of the great man himself standing proudly behind his creation was one of the first things you see in the restaurant. My meeting with the Messi Sandwich was on the horizon.

After being shown to my seat at the Hard Rock Cafe I began to get excited. I took in the chaotic but entertaining surroundings every Hard Rock establishment is known for. As Adele’s ‘To Make You Feel My Love’ beamed over the speakers, I began to fall in love with the cafe even more.

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Moments later, I caught a glimpse of the towering sandwich. Fittingly, the waitress delivered this gluttonous, culinary masterpiece in the same way Messi carries the ball and hits the back of the net. With two scans of each shoulder, she placed a supporting arm beneath the tray.

Like a dressage horse operating on the promise of a sugar cube buffet, she tiptoed forward, weaved in and out of charging tourists, feinted past another colleague, slalomed her way through tables and booths like Diego Maradona before gently placing the sandwich onto the table.

And there it was, sitting in front of me. Two brioche buns contained a fat stack of Milanese breaded chicken breasts, pounded thinly and bound together by melted provolone cheese. A polite handful of arugula and two hefty tomato slices placed delicately between the top burger and bun were enough to convince me this was on my diet, before a generous heap of herbed aioli gave the creation a nice classy finish.

To ensure this heap did not collapse like an MLS defence, a hefty toothpick was stabbed down the middle of the tower for structural integrity. I began to appreciate my stupidity in walking to the wrong restaurant – this is the kind of sandwich you need a good walk before and after consumption.

As should everybody when it comes to sandwiches, I wanted to get a bit of everything in one bite. Doing my best anaconda impression, I ensured the top and bottom of the sandwich were able to fit into my mouth.

On impact, my overconfident bite opened the floodgates for a stream of aioli to flow out of the sandwich and onto the plate – this sandwich is Messi by name and messy by nature. Luckily, the generous helping of crispy fries were there to mop the sauce up.

I imagine somebody like myself has little in common with Messi, but a taste in sandwiches is definitely something. The coating of the chicken is perfectly crisp, the chicken itself is moist and tender, thanks to the way it was pounded. The arugula and tomato brings added freshness and a perfect flavour contrast to the heft of the chicken. To ensure every bite remains interesting, the aioli adds an extra sharpness.

As I mentioned earlier, it is the kind of meal which may require a walk to ensure you are not too bloated after. To me, a dinner needs to leave you feeling full, nourished, and content. Food should be the last thing on your mind after dinner, even if you are a greedy eater like myself.

If you find yourself wandering into a Hard Rock Cafe over the next few weeks, I highly recommend ordering the Messi sandwich. You will not receive a Ballon d’Or, but you will receive a delicious, filling meal, which is just as good if you ask me – just make sure you know exactly which restaurant you are going to!

If you are interested in trying the Messi Sandwich visit the Hard Rock Cafe here

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