In my most recent posts documenting my St. Paddy’s Day trip to Baltimore, I promised to give the pubs I visited their grades. I think I gave them all adequate reviews, maybe a little light on details but I was under time constraints. Anyway, here’s the report card, loyal readers.
Mick O’Shea’s: This place made the best impression on me. It’s a great Irish-American pub that has everything I’m looking for: great selection, attention to detail (the mural of Ireland on their wall is awesome), and solid craic. A-
Tir Na Nog: This is one of those places where the sum is less than the whole of the parts. At first glance, the place looks good enough, with a really good Irish whiskey selection and an old-world décor. It’s big and spacious, but it’s also over-priced and has a hollow feeling. I’m not one who has a knee-jerk negative reaction to a newer place that is pre-packaged Irish, so to speak. Not every pub has the luxury of being around for 50 years with a proud display of well-worn artifacts and a worn out bar top. A place that is built to look like an old-fashioned Irish pub is okay by me, as long as there is a sincerity of purpose and the respect of tradition. Tir Na Nog just doesn’t have what it takes, no craic, which is a major deficiency especially on Saint Patrick’s Day. Craic at an Irish pub on 3/17 is like sex on Valentine’s Day, a gimme, and if you can’t lock it up, you are really doing something wrong. The décor was wrong as well. Lots of the pictures and posters looked like they were of mid-19th century England, rather than the auld sod. The Victorian American-Irish pubs usually are chock full of Irish stuff. Tir Na Nog looks like the Baltimore chapter of the American Anglo-phile Society decorated it. The place was all wrong in the details, and even though I’ll give a place extra credit for having such a good selection, Tir Na Nog just doesn’t have the stuff. C+
James Joyce Irish Pub: In my second post, I documented the difference between the Irish-American Pub and the American-Irish Pub. The former is primarily an American bar but is heavy on the Irish accents, while the latter explicitly references pubs from Ireland, what I call the “Cohan’s Effect” (from Cohan’s pub in The quiet Man). While Mick O’Shea’s is an excellent example of an Irish-American Pub, James Joyce Irish Pub is a terrific version of an American Irish Pub. The bar had everything you’d want from an Irish place on Saint Patrick’s Day, or any other day. James Joyce has lots of good whiskey and beer and a comfortable setting. The décor is very well put together. I particularly like the collage of Irish whiskey labels on the wall headed towards the restroom (I hang out in all the best places). The bar had a fun and lively feel, and I’m looking forward to a return visit to savor the atmosphere more fully. A-
The Blarney Stone: This place wasn’t on the itinerary, but I’m glad we came across it. It’s a laid-back, locals type place that still felt accessible and comfortable to a couple of out-of-towners like my wife and I. The selection is good, and the décor and craic are amenably low-key. The gigantic gavel hanging from the ceiling is both wonderfully distinctive and completely baffling. It’s just there, with no explanation attached. But The Blarney Stone seems like that kind of take-it-as-it-is pub, and it is all the better for it. B+
Slainte: In Gaelic, slainte means “cheers” and it’s a term that’s associated with good times. So this pub should probably change its name to “Fuck off, we’re a generic gin mill disguising ourselves as an Irish pub.” You might not be able to fit that on a standard bar shingle, but if the shoe fits. Slainte was my least favorite place in Baltimore, and not just because I got a glass of whiskey that tasted like soap. The bar just felt like a personality-deficient tourist trap that went with an Irish identity because the owners couldn’t think of anything better. The place might work fine as a meat-market drink factory for the 25-35 crowd, but an Irish pub it is not. My wife has no good words for it either, and us smart fellows know that our better halves are pretty perceptive about these matters. C-
So there you have it, dear readers, where to go, and not go, for the good craic in Charm City. More to come with future visits. Slainte!
Questions? Comments? Suggestions? Paddythepublican@gmail.com
Saturday, March 27, 2010
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
St Paddy's Day 2010, Part 2
When last we left our intrepid author, he was hoofing it through the streets of Baltimore, wife in tow, seeking the finest purveyors of craic and uisce beatha. We left off before with me leaving Tir Na Nog in the Inner Harbor feeling unsatisfied. We made our way over to Little Italy to take in the sights, like the fire hydrants painted in the colors of the Italian flag. I had the wife take my picture crouching next to one while a couple of paisanos, lounging on lawn chairs on the corner, looked on in amusement. Not only did we look like tourists, but tourists who were looking for kicks in Little Italy on Saint Patrick’s Day. My ethnic compass must have seemed off to them; I probably go to Chinatown to celebrate Oktoberfest.
It was time to get back on schedule. We got ourselves over to James Joyce Irish Pub. I will admit to being a bit wary about this place. I cannot stand James Joyce’s literature. I love to read, but Joyce’s stuff is just directionless mush about jelly-spined whiners. I know this is heresy to many, but I have taken many cracks at Joyce’s writings, and I just can’t make myself endure it. I think he’s vastly overrated in literary circles, partly because no one wants to risk being labeled an anti-intellectual heathen for daring to suggest that Joyce doesn’t deserve his vaunted status. Anyway, I entered the pub bearing his name with trepidation, but my fears were immediately quelled when I beheld the raucous good time before me. The place was completely packed, but in a good way. The bar was 2-3 deep of people just having a grand old time. I wedged myself into a tight opening, facing perpendicular to the bar, to order my drinks. With booze in hand, the missus and I set out to find a spot in the room where we could take a sip without accidentally elbowing someone in the kisser. The place had a great décor; it looked an oversized study or reading room (part of the literary motif inherent in the name, I assume). There was nothing really specific to Joyce that I could see; the bar could have easily been named The W.B. Yeats Pub or The Brendan Beehan Bar (extra points for alliteration). The establishment is heavy on the dark wood and imitation bookshelves. The bar itself is large and well stocked with Irish whiskey. It seems like the kind of place that is fun on a packed day like St. Paddy’s, but also nice to visit for a quiet drink during the week. There was live music, an Irish dancer with bagpipe accompaniment, and a general feeling of high-level craic. The pub made a very good impression on us and I definitely want to return.
After leaving James Joyce, we headed over to Fells Point and found The Blarney Stone. It was less crowded than the other places we’d been to and we were able to actually get a seat at the bar. The more relaxed atmosphere was a nice break from the mob scene we’d been encountering. The place has the feel of a local watering hole, a neighborhood bar. The selection was good and the staff treated us well. They have a good décor, kind of an honest mish-mash of Irish-themed stuff. There’s a humongous gavel hanging from the ceiling for no apparent reason. The Blarney Stone looks like the kind of place where adults go to drink, a place that doesn’t cater to the hip crowd or the amateur drinkers. It’s nothing spectacular, just a good, honest Irish-American pub.
At the end of my last post, I promised a tale of a drunken man engaging in lewd behavior. Far be it from me to disappoint. When my wife and I left The Blarney Stone, a drunken fellow commented on my Irish-themed apparel. I confirmed for him that not only was I of Irish descent, but my name was also Patrick. The guy’s face took on the look of total credulity and utter wonderment that only the very inebriated are capable of over a relative pedestrian fact. (Encountering a guy named Patrick on St. Paddy’s Day is hardly extraordinary; the odds might be more remote when celebrating the Chinese New Year. In China). The drunk then proceeded to use the green plastic beer bong tube he was holding in a most lewd fashion (i.e. he was stroking it). I told him that I wasn’t interested in such a display but if he took his act to the internet, there is certainly money to be made with such behavior. His friends dragged him off to another bar, and we went on our way.
The last Irish bar we found ourselves in was Slainte, and it was the most disappointing of the bunch. It’s hard for me to put my finger on, but the place just didn’t feel like an Irish pub. Sure, it had a half-decent selection, and there was Irish bric-a-brac, and soccer games on TV (not part of my barometer for Irishness, this is still America, after all). The place just felt off to me and even with a crowd, no true craic was evident. It didn’t help that the Jameson 12 I ordered tasted like soap. Something about the glass I guess. Putting the whiskey into a paper cup didn’t help matters, so I choked it down and decided not to risk getting a second round. The bar had a 2nd floor, which was also Irish looking, and a 3rd floor which had a Tiki theme and a nice view over Fells Point. The bar’s identity was all over the place, and the even though the first 2 floors looked the part of an Irish pub, the vibe was very different. It’s hard to explain, but it’s like those movies you see about Prohibition-era speakeasies. The place is a rollicking bar at first, but then someone presses the secret buzzer to alert everyone that the cops are raiding the place. So the walls turn around, and the bar spins around and becomes a bookcase, and the bandstand flips over to reveal a fake fireplace. Slainte just felt like something else that was imitating an Irish pub, and I didn’t care for it. The place might be a decent enough place to pass the time; but as far as being a good Irish pub, Slainte is a bust.
That was the last stop we made in Baltimore before we decided to call it a day. With all of the walking we did, it was hard for me to maintain even a buzz. I got nowhere near the blurry-eyed drunkenness I experienced the previous Saint Patrick’s Day. But we still had a great time and visited some excellent pubs. I’m really looking forward to visiting Charm City again to revisit the places I enjoy and to try out some good new places. Here’s hoping that all of your St. Paddy’s Day experiences, dear readers, were as full of merriment and craic as mine were. Slainte!
Questions? Comments? Suggestions? Paddythepublican@gmail.com
It was time to get back on schedule. We got ourselves over to James Joyce Irish Pub. I will admit to being a bit wary about this place. I cannot stand James Joyce’s literature. I love to read, but Joyce’s stuff is just directionless mush about jelly-spined whiners. I know this is heresy to many, but I have taken many cracks at Joyce’s writings, and I just can’t make myself endure it. I think he’s vastly overrated in literary circles, partly because no one wants to risk being labeled an anti-intellectual heathen for daring to suggest that Joyce doesn’t deserve his vaunted status. Anyway, I entered the pub bearing his name with trepidation, but my fears were immediately quelled when I beheld the raucous good time before me. The place was completely packed, but in a good way. The bar was 2-3 deep of people just having a grand old time. I wedged myself into a tight opening, facing perpendicular to the bar, to order my drinks. With booze in hand, the missus and I set out to find a spot in the room where we could take a sip without accidentally elbowing someone in the kisser. The place had a great décor; it looked an oversized study or reading room (part of the literary motif inherent in the name, I assume). There was nothing really specific to Joyce that I could see; the bar could have easily been named The W.B. Yeats Pub or The Brendan Beehan Bar (extra points for alliteration). The establishment is heavy on the dark wood and imitation bookshelves. The bar itself is large and well stocked with Irish whiskey. It seems like the kind of place that is fun on a packed day like St. Paddy’s, but also nice to visit for a quiet drink during the week. There was live music, an Irish dancer with bagpipe accompaniment, and a general feeling of high-level craic. The pub made a very good impression on us and I definitely want to return.
After leaving James Joyce, we headed over to Fells Point and found The Blarney Stone. It was less crowded than the other places we’d been to and we were able to actually get a seat at the bar. The more relaxed atmosphere was a nice break from the mob scene we’d been encountering. The place has the feel of a local watering hole, a neighborhood bar. The selection was good and the staff treated us well. They have a good décor, kind of an honest mish-mash of Irish-themed stuff. There’s a humongous gavel hanging from the ceiling for no apparent reason. The Blarney Stone looks like the kind of place where adults go to drink, a place that doesn’t cater to the hip crowd or the amateur drinkers. It’s nothing spectacular, just a good, honest Irish-American pub.
At the end of my last post, I promised a tale of a drunken man engaging in lewd behavior. Far be it from me to disappoint. When my wife and I left The Blarney Stone, a drunken fellow commented on my Irish-themed apparel. I confirmed for him that not only was I of Irish descent, but my name was also Patrick. The guy’s face took on the look of total credulity and utter wonderment that only the very inebriated are capable of over a relative pedestrian fact. (Encountering a guy named Patrick on St. Paddy’s Day is hardly extraordinary; the odds might be more remote when celebrating the Chinese New Year. In China). The drunk then proceeded to use the green plastic beer bong tube he was holding in a most lewd fashion (i.e. he was stroking it). I told him that I wasn’t interested in such a display but if he took his act to the internet, there is certainly money to be made with such behavior. His friends dragged him off to another bar, and we went on our way.
The last Irish bar we found ourselves in was Slainte, and it was the most disappointing of the bunch. It’s hard for me to put my finger on, but the place just didn’t feel like an Irish pub. Sure, it had a half-decent selection, and there was Irish bric-a-brac, and soccer games on TV (not part of my barometer for Irishness, this is still America, after all). The place just felt off to me and even with a crowd, no true craic was evident. It didn’t help that the Jameson 12 I ordered tasted like soap. Something about the glass I guess. Putting the whiskey into a paper cup didn’t help matters, so I choked it down and decided not to risk getting a second round. The bar had a 2nd floor, which was also Irish looking, and a 3rd floor which had a Tiki theme and a nice view over Fells Point. The bar’s identity was all over the place, and the even though the first 2 floors looked the part of an Irish pub, the vibe was very different. It’s hard to explain, but it’s like those movies you see about Prohibition-era speakeasies. The place is a rollicking bar at first, but then someone presses the secret buzzer to alert everyone that the cops are raiding the place. So the walls turn around, and the bar spins around and becomes a bookcase, and the bandstand flips over to reveal a fake fireplace. Slainte just felt like something else that was imitating an Irish pub, and I didn’t care for it. The place might be a decent enough place to pass the time; but as far as being a good Irish pub, Slainte is a bust.
That was the last stop we made in Baltimore before we decided to call it a day. With all of the walking we did, it was hard for me to maintain even a buzz. I got nowhere near the blurry-eyed drunkenness I experienced the previous Saint Patrick’s Day. But we still had a great time and visited some excellent pubs. I’m really looking forward to visiting Charm City again to revisit the places I enjoy and to try out some good new places. Here’s hoping that all of your St. Paddy’s Day experiences, dear readers, were as full of merriment and craic as mine were. Slainte!
Questions? Comments? Suggestions? Paddythepublican@gmail.com
Friday, March 19, 2010
St. Patrick's Day 2010 TR: part 1
I hope all of you loyal readers thoroughly enjoyed your Saint Patrick’s Day’s festivities. Whether you drank yourself silly the whole day or just wore a green shirt to work I hope the day was grand. If I had only one word to sum up my Saint Patrick’s Day 2010, it would be, smooth. Everything went well, no drama, no hiccups, and no laws broken. The wife and I went to Baltimore to frequent some of their Irish pubs (I didn’t lay out logistics as well as I should have, so more comprehensive return trip is certainly in order). We hadn’t been to Balto in while, and we really enjoyed ourselves, just a great town.
Now I want to digress for a moment to address what I think is an interesting new problem. Which of your beloved techo-toys do you trust more? It sounds like a quiz show. You see, my wife doesn’t like the fact that I’m a typical man in that I drive by feel and don’t stop and ask for directions. I’m happy to waste time driving around in aimless circles, like an old-school cabbie running up your fare, rather than ask for help. However, I will print out online directions when going to an unfamiliar location. The last time we went somewhere, I went off-script from the Google directions because I thought I knew better, and we got lost. For this trip, I planned to follow the Google directions to the letter and not improvise. As we get closer to Baltimore my wife starts plotting our course into the GPS feature on her phone. It turns out that her Sprint phone has a different route in mind for us than the Google directions. So, we have two technologies having a digital difference of opinion. What to do? My wife wanted to go with her GPS course, but I stubbornly insisted on sticking with the Google plan. No improvisation, remember? We got to our destination without incident, but it seems that if we followed the GPS, we would have gotten there quicker and without the detour through some of Baltimore’s scenic urban blight. So I decided to follow the map, and still wound up being, well, not wrong, but wrong-ish. Sometimes, you just can’t win.
Back to business then. The weather was gorgeous, so we parked the car and did all of our bar-hopping on foot. The amount of walking we did certainly contributed to my inability to maintain a buzz. Unlike my trip to Philly’s South street last Saint Patrick’s Day, where there’s an Irish pub just about every 30 feet. Even holding to a one-drink-per-bar guideline (a loose guideline at that) I was trashed before we went 5 blocks in Philadelphia. Since Balto’s Irish bars are more spread out, my legs got the workout rather than my liver. We started at Mick O’Shea’s, which is a great place. It had it all: great selection, good service, solid décor, and craic to spare. Mick’s is a top-notch Irish pub that I’m really looking forward to visiting again. And I finally got to try Paddy’s Irish whiskey! Paddy’s has gotten a bit of a cult following in the States (paging Rich Nagle of irishwhiskeyblog.com) primarily because it’s good, and has only just become available for distribution in America. The only way to get your hands on Paddy was through foreign purchase or at a duty-free shop. The taste couldn’t live up to the hype, but it is good whiskey, smooth and savory. I will do more detailed reviews of both Mick’s and Paddy’s in future posts.
After leaving Mick’s, we hoofed it almost a mile to the harbor to try out Tir Na Nog. It’s a grand-looking place with a great selection of whiskey. However, their prices are a bit steep. A Harp draft and a Tullamore Dew 12 neat cost me 19 bucks. Compare those prices to the $7 I paid at Mick’s for a draft of Sam and a Paddy’s. TD 12 is a better grade of whiskey than Paddy’s, but it’s not that much better. I feel like I fell right into a tourist trap, but I guess it’s carpe diem when you’re spending money in Baltimore’s main tourist attraction. Putting the drink prices aside, I wasn’t a fan of Tir Na Nog; it had a good look but it had a weirdly antiseptic quality. No craic to speak of, and if you can’t manage some craic on Saint Paddy’s Day, then you’re failing somehow as an Irish pub. It wasn’t a bad place, but I have no desire to make a return visit (even if someone else is buying the drinks).
I’ll leave the trip report at that for now, dear readers. Part two will be coming soon, featuring more boozing and an encounter with a drunk guy using giveaway bar swag in a vulgar, but amusing, manner. Slainte!
Questions? Comments? Suggestions? paddythepublican@gmail.com
Now I want to digress for a moment to address what I think is an interesting new problem. Which of your beloved techo-toys do you trust more? It sounds like a quiz show. You see, my wife doesn’t like the fact that I’m a typical man in that I drive by feel and don’t stop and ask for directions. I’m happy to waste time driving around in aimless circles, like an old-school cabbie running up your fare, rather than ask for help. However, I will print out online directions when going to an unfamiliar location. The last time we went somewhere, I went off-script from the Google directions because I thought I knew better, and we got lost. For this trip, I planned to follow the Google directions to the letter and not improvise. As we get closer to Baltimore my wife starts plotting our course into the GPS feature on her phone. It turns out that her Sprint phone has a different route in mind for us than the Google directions. So, we have two technologies having a digital difference of opinion. What to do? My wife wanted to go with her GPS course, but I stubbornly insisted on sticking with the Google plan. No improvisation, remember? We got to our destination without incident, but it seems that if we followed the GPS, we would have gotten there quicker and without the detour through some of Baltimore’s scenic urban blight. So I decided to follow the map, and still wound up being, well, not wrong, but wrong-ish. Sometimes, you just can’t win.
Back to business then. The weather was gorgeous, so we parked the car and did all of our bar-hopping on foot. The amount of walking we did certainly contributed to my inability to maintain a buzz. Unlike my trip to Philly’s South street last Saint Patrick’s Day, where there’s an Irish pub just about every 30 feet. Even holding to a one-drink-per-bar guideline (a loose guideline at that) I was trashed before we went 5 blocks in Philadelphia. Since Balto’s Irish bars are more spread out, my legs got the workout rather than my liver. We started at Mick O’Shea’s, which is a great place. It had it all: great selection, good service, solid décor, and craic to spare. Mick’s is a top-notch Irish pub that I’m really looking forward to visiting again. And I finally got to try Paddy’s Irish whiskey! Paddy’s has gotten a bit of a cult following in the States (paging Rich Nagle of irishwhiskeyblog.com) primarily because it’s good, and has only just become available for distribution in America. The only way to get your hands on Paddy was through foreign purchase or at a duty-free shop. The taste couldn’t live up to the hype, but it is good whiskey, smooth and savory. I will do more detailed reviews of both Mick’s and Paddy’s in future posts.
After leaving Mick’s, we hoofed it almost a mile to the harbor to try out Tir Na Nog. It’s a grand-looking place with a great selection of whiskey. However, their prices are a bit steep. A Harp draft and a Tullamore Dew 12 neat cost me 19 bucks. Compare those prices to the $7 I paid at Mick’s for a draft of Sam and a Paddy’s. TD 12 is a better grade of whiskey than Paddy’s, but it’s not that much better. I feel like I fell right into a tourist trap, but I guess it’s carpe diem when you’re spending money in Baltimore’s main tourist attraction. Putting the drink prices aside, I wasn’t a fan of Tir Na Nog; it had a good look but it had a weirdly antiseptic quality. No craic to speak of, and if you can’t manage some craic on Saint Paddy’s Day, then you’re failing somehow as an Irish pub. It wasn’t a bad place, but I have no desire to make a return visit (even if someone else is buying the drinks).
I’ll leave the trip report at that for now, dear readers. Part two will be coming soon, featuring more boozing and an encounter with a drunk guy using giveaway bar swag in a vulgar, but amusing, manner. Slainte!
Questions? Comments? Suggestions? paddythepublican@gmail.com
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
'Twas the night before St. Patrick's
‘Twas the night before St. Patrick’s and all through the pub
I was slugging straight whiskey and snarfing bar grub
Then what to my booze-soaked eyes should appear
But St. Patrick himself, sipping green beer
It didn’t seem right, this saint getting lit
So I staggered over to give him some shit
“You may be a saint and can do as you wish
But it isn’t right, you drinking like a fish
Boozing is fine for us earthly sort
But a saint should have a more regal comport
I don’t begrudge an Irishman his brew
But I expect more saintly conduct from you”
I finished my speech, feeling full of grace
When Saint Paddy punched me square in the face
As I lay on the floor holding my head
St. Patrick roared loud enough to raise the dead
“I’m not the ghost of St. Patrick you drunk slob
I play him in the parade, and my name’s Bob
I’ve been walking and waving for over 3 hours
So I’m ready for a beer and a shot of Powers
I’ve had bratty kids yanking my robe
While walking in sandals on a cobblestone road
I’m tired and sore and just want a rest
So go back to your stool you drunken pest”
With that he stormed out the front door
Leaving me laid out on the beer-soaked floor
I picked myself up and went back to my stool
Feeling sheepish and stupid, a world-class fool
If there’s a moral here that I can extract
Keep your mouth shut around a beer-swilling Saint Pat
I was slugging straight whiskey and snarfing bar grub
Then what to my booze-soaked eyes should appear
But St. Patrick himself, sipping green beer
It didn’t seem right, this saint getting lit
So I staggered over to give him some shit
“You may be a saint and can do as you wish
But it isn’t right, you drinking like a fish
Boozing is fine for us earthly sort
But a saint should have a more regal comport
I don’t begrudge an Irishman his brew
But I expect more saintly conduct from you”
I finished my speech, feeling full of grace
When Saint Paddy punched me square in the face
As I lay on the floor holding my head
St. Patrick roared loud enough to raise the dead
“I’m not the ghost of St. Patrick you drunk slob
I play him in the parade, and my name’s Bob
I’ve been walking and waving for over 3 hours
So I’m ready for a beer and a shot of Powers
I’ve had bratty kids yanking my robe
While walking in sandals on a cobblestone road
I’m tired and sore and just want a rest
So go back to your stool you drunken pest”
With that he stormed out the front door
Leaving me laid out on the beer-soaked floor
I picked myself up and went back to my stool
Feeling sheepish and stupid, a world-class fool
If there’s a moral here that I can extract
Keep your mouth shut around a beer-swilling Saint Pat
Saturday, March 13, 2010
Good Irish Links
Don’t be misled by the title, this post isn’t about golf courses. I’m giving credit to some other sites out there that put out quality information about things of the Irish persuasion.
www.irishwhiskeyblog.com
This is a good site written by Irish whiskey enthusiast Rich Nagle. Rich has apparently sampled, and written about, every Irish whiskey brand known to man. He posted about a recent trip to Ireland where he got to try some of the more exotic stuff that you can’t find in the States. If he keeps the pace up, he’ll run out of Irish whiskey to try and will be reduced to prowling Ireland’s backwaters doing tastings of illicit poteen.
www.irishwhiskeynotes.com
This is an Ireland-based site that is also devoted to the uisce beatha. Because this site is based on the old sod, they have access to more stuff than what we have here. Reading this site will make you create a bucket list of obscure whiskey to try if you ever get yourself over to the Emerald Isle.
www.irishwhiskeysociety.com
A group of whiskey enthusiasts in Ireland created a society dedicated to, well, what else? This isn’t just some casual collection of whiskey drinkers meeting for the occasional dram; these people mean business. Their organization has: a written constitution, an elected executive board, a schedule of events, and a chat forum. This is a good source of information for what’s new in the Irish whiskey world.
www.bostonirishpubs.com
The name seems self-explanatory, but the site is really devoted to Boston Irish-American culture in general, not just pubs. The pub section isn’t that informative, it’s just a collection of links, but it’s better than nothing. It’s a useful guide to Irish stuff in America’s most Irish city.
www.aoh.com
The Ancient Order of Hibernians is one of America’s oldest Irish organizations. It is an Irish-Catholic fraternal organization devoted to charity work and Irish fellowship. Their site is full of interesting links and information about the Irish. They also have divisions in every state if you are interested in joining.
www.irishwhiskeyblog.com
This is a good site written by Irish whiskey enthusiast Rich Nagle. Rich has apparently sampled, and written about, every Irish whiskey brand known to man. He posted about a recent trip to Ireland where he got to try some of the more exotic stuff that you can’t find in the States. If he keeps the pace up, he’ll run out of Irish whiskey to try and will be reduced to prowling Ireland’s backwaters doing tastings of illicit poteen.
www.irishwhiskeynotes.com
This is an Ireland-based site that is also devoted to the uisce beatha. Because this site is based on the old sod, they have access to more stuff than what we have here. Reading this site will make you create a bucket list of obscure whiskey to try if you ever get yourself over to the Emerald Isle.
www.irishwhiskeysociety.com
A group of whiskey enthusiasts in Ireland created a society dedicated to, well, what else? This isn’t just some casual collection of whiskey drinkers meeting for the occasional dram; these people mean business. Their organization has: a written constitution, an elected executive board, a schedule of events, and a chat forum. This is a good source of information for what’s new in the Irish whiskey world.
www.bostonirishpubs.com
The name seems self-explanatory, but the site is really devoted to Boston Irish-American culture in general, not just pubs. The pub section isn’t that informative, it’s just a collection of links, but it’s better than nothing. It’s a useful guide to Irish stuff in America’s most Irish city.
www.aoh.com
The Ancient Order of Hibernians is one of America’s oldest Irish organizations. It is an Irish-Catholic fraternal organization devoted to charity work and Irish fellowship. Their site is full of interesting links and information about the Irish. They also have divisions in every state if you are interested in joining.
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
Falling for the McShake Trap
So I did my duty today as an American consumer and ran out and got myself a Shamrock Shake from McDonald’s. Like many people, I realized “hey, those green shakes are only on sale through St Paddy’s Day, so I better hurry up and get one.” You may be asking, so what? Plenty of people get the green shake, big deal. But I just finished my shake and I had an epiphany, I’m a sucker. Not just that, but a consistent sucker.
The Shamrock milkshake demonstrates the triumph of marketing over reason. The McShake isn’t really all that good. I know it has legions of fans that salivate over its annual appearance like tween girls at a Jonas brothers concert. But it really doesn’t do much for me. It’s not terrible, but it isn’t anything special. The shake is basically just mint chocolate ice cream gone runny and soft. So why did I make a special detour to get the Shamrock Shake today? Why do I snobbishly turn my nose up at the golden arches all the rest of the year, but dutifully make the March pilgrimage for the Irish milkshake? It’s simple. I have fallen victim to the magic of the holiday themed Limited Time Offer (LTO). As far as seasonal LTO’s go, the Shamrock Shake is the king.
Part of the appeal of the LTO is that it is limited. You can only get said item within a certain time frame, so hurry! Act now! Call today! What’s even better for McDonald’s is that they build loyalty with their Shamrock Shake; people get excited when it’s time for them to roll back out every March. To top it all off, the Shamrock Shake is built around a major ethnic pride holiday. When you combine all of those factors, it’s almost irrelevant whether the shake tastes good or not. In fact, I forget from year to year how exactly they do taste. I just know that it’s minty and sweet, which I like in theory. And the LTO shake taps into the celebratory feeling I get around Saint Patrick’s Day. A green shake? Hell yeah, I’m in. Does it taste good? Who cares?
The Shamrock Shake reminds me of deviled eggs. When I was a kid, there was always at least one summer picnic my family went to where deviled eggs were offered. And deviled eggs look so good, so tempting. So I’d pick one up, take a bite, and almost gag. Deviled eggs are disgusting, but because I’d only have them on a few summer occasions, I’d forget. It took a few summers before I finally etched it in my brain that deviled eggs=vile snack item. The thing about the Shamrock Shake is that it isn’t disgusting, though, which makes the situation more problematic. It is agreeable enough to drink, but I don’t really like it. But since a whole year passes until I’ll get another one, I only remember that I don’t hate it.
So it goes every March; the Shamrock Shake comes back, and I feel compelled to get one. Then I do, and I feel like a sucker. I fall prey to McDonald’s Irish LTO milkshake mojo like clockwork. Maybe next year, I’ll wise up. Sure. And maybe beer companies will stop using large-breasted women in their commercials. Hold out hope for me loyal readers that I may get the green monkey off my back come March 2011.
Questions? Comments? Suggestions? paddythepublican@gmail.com
The Shamrock milkshake demonstrates the triumph of marketing over reason. The McShake isn’t really all that good. I know it has legions of fans that salivate over its annual appearance like tween girls at a Jonas brothers concert. But it really doesn’t do much for me. It’s not terrible, but it isn’t anything special. The shake is basically just mint chocolate ice cream gone runny and soft. So why did I make a special detour to get the Shamrock Shake today? Why do I snobbishly turn my nose up at the golden arches all the rest of the year, but dutifully make the March pilgrimage for the Irish milkshake? It’s simple. I have fallen victim to the magic of the holiday themed Limited Time Offer (LTO). As far as seasonal LTO’s go, the Shamrock Shake is the king.
Part of the appeal of the LTO is that it is limited. You can only get said item within a certain time frame, so hurry! Act now! Call today! What’s even better for McDonald’s is that they build loyalty with their Shamrock Shake; people get excited when it’s time for them to roll back out every March. To top it all off, the Shamrock Shake is built around a major ethnic pride holiday. When you combine all of those factors, it’s almost irrelevant whether the shake tastes good or not. In fact, I forget from year to year how exactly they do taste. I just know that it’s minty and sweet, which I like in theory. And the LTO shake taps into the celebratory feeling I get around Saint Patrick’s Day. A green shake? Hell yeah, I’m in. Does it taste good? Who cares?
The Shamrock Shake reminds me of deviled eggs. When I was a kid, there was always at least one summer picnic my family went to where deviled eggs were offered. And deviled eggs look so good, so tempting. So I’d pick one up, take a bite, and almost gag. Deviled eggs are disgusting, but because I’d only have them on a few summer occasions, I’d forget. It took a few summers before I finally etched it in my brain that deviled eggs=vile snack item. The thing about the Shamrock Shake is that it isn’t disgusting, though, which makes the situation more problematic. It is agreeable enough to drink, but I don’t really like it. But since a whole year passes until I’ll get another one, I only remember that I don’t hate it.
So it goes every March; the Shamrock Shake comes back, and I feel compelled to get one. Then I do, and I feel like a sucker. I fall prey to McDonald’s Irish LTO milkshake mojo like clockwork. Maybe next year, I’ll wise up. Sure. And maybe beer companies will stop using large-breasted women in their commercials. Hold out hope for me loyal readers that I may get the green monkey off my back come March 2011.
Questions? Comments? Suggestions? paddythepublican@gmail.com
The Quiet Man
The Quiet Man has become the cinematic standard-bearer for Saint Patrick’s Day, much like A Christmas Story is for Christmas and The 10 Commandments is for Easter. There are plenty of movies about Ireland and the Irish, but The Quiet Man is the leader of the pack simply because it is a great film.
When the film came out in 1952, both director John Ford and star John Wayne had cemented their roles as Hollywood icons. However, this film had the studio executives nervous because it strayed off the path of success that the two Johns had blazed. Instead of a fast-paced western, we had an easy-going romantic dramedy set in a bucolic Irish village. The studio people had nothing to worry about; The Quiet Man was a hit, earning several Oscar nominations, and securing a spot as America’s most beloved film about the Irish.
This is one of my favorite films, and this is the kind of movie I think of when people say “they don’t make them like they used to.” The Quiet Man defies easy classification: it’s not a romantic comedy, even though there is a love story and plenty of laughs. It’s not an action movie either, even though the film ends with one of Hollywood’s most classic brawls. The Quiet Man is just a terrific film, period. John Ford knows how to tell a story, how to shoot a film (the Irish landscape looks fantastic), and how to fill out a cast. Maureen O’Hara gives a career-defining performance as the fiery Mary Kate Danaher. John Ford also gets top-quality performances out of his stable of regular character actors: Ward Bond, Victor McLaglen, and most notably, Barry Fitzgerald. And for those people out there who think that Duke Wayne couldn’t act, this is the film to see to change your mind. John Wayne does a great job with his role, deftly jumping from humor to pathos to righteous anger. You don’t have to be Irish to like this film, and you don’t even have to watch it around Saint Paddy’s Day to enjoy it. But if you haven’t seen The Quiet Man yet, do yourself a favor and watch this true Hollywood classic.
When the film came out in 1952, both director John Ford and star John Wayne had cemented their roles as Hollywood icons. However, this film had the studio executives nervous because it strayed off the path of success that the two Johns had blazed. Instead of a fast-paced western, we had an easy-going romantic dramedy set in a bucolic Irish village. The studio people had nothing to worry about; The Quiet Man was a hit, earning several Oscar nominations, and securing a spot as America’s most beloved film about the Irish.
This is one of my favorite films, and this is the kind of movie I think of when people say “they don’t make them like they used to.” The Quiet Man defies easy classification: it’s not a romantic comedy, even though there is a love story and plenty of laughs. It’s not an action movie either, even though the film ends with one of Hollywood’s most classic brawls. The Quiet Man is just a terrific film, period. John Ford knows how to tell a story, how to shoot a film (the Irish landscape looks fantastic), and how to fill out a cast. Maureen O’Hara gives a career-defining performance as the fiery Mary Kate Danaher. John Ford also gets top-quality performances out of his stable of regular character actors: Ward Bond, Victor McLaglen, and most notably, Barry Fitzgerald. And for those people out there who think that Duke Wayne couldn’t act, this is the film to see to change your mind. John Wayne does a great job with his role, deftly jumping from humor to pathos to righteous anger. You don’t have to be Irish to like this film, and you don’t even have to watch it around Saint Paddy’s Day to enjoy it. But if you haven’t seen The Quiet Man yet, do yourself a favor and watch this true Hollywood classic.
Saturday, March 6, 2010
Uisce Beatha: Red Breast
I wrote yesterday that I would start reviewing some Irish whiskey, which is not a bad task to have since it involves going out and drinking a glass (at least) of uisce beatha. So I went out and had myself a glass of Red Breast. This whiskey is a 12 year-old, pure pot still whiskey. Pot still is significant because it is a more labor-intensive and expensive distilling process, as opposed to continuous still, and pot still generally results in more robust, flavorful whiskey. Red Breast is certainly robust, as far as Irish whiskey is concerned. Now, that’s not to say that it veers into Scotch territory of peat and smokiness. Red Breast has full flavor while still maintaining the typical smoothness associated with Irish whiskey. It also doesn’t have the sharp bite of alcohol that one associates with cheaper whiskey.
A common term used to describe Red Breast is “oily” which I found a bit strange at first. But “oily” is a very apt description for the way that this whiskey envelops your mouth. Red Breast has a stickiness to it in the way it really lingers after you’ve swallowed it. Red Breast has a nice burn when it goes down; you can really sense it moving down your chest. It manages this “burn” without sacrificing any of its mellowness. It’s a perfect cold weather dram, with a warm firmness that’ll chase the chill away. Balance is another good term to describe Red Breast. Some Irish whiskey veers too far in one direction or another, sacrificing one characteristic for another. For instance, regular Jameson is certainly robust, but that is the case mostly because it has that harsh punch to it, not managing to smooth off its rough edge. Red Breast doesn’t sacrifice anything: it’s robust and smooth, assertive without being overpowering or harsh.
One should definitely enjoy this whiskey neat. The experts suggest a dash of cold water to open up the flavors, which I won’t dispute, but I’ll caution that at most bars, a dash is usually quite a bit more than that. Unless you really know and trust your bartender to measure well for you, you are better off taking this stuff straight. And if you find yourself sitting next to a Scotch snob at a bar who won’t lower himself to drink Irish whiskey because it is not “complex” enough, buy him a glass of Red Breast. The snob should then stand you to a glass of it to show his appreciation for introducing him to something so good.
Paddy’s Grade: A-
A common term used to describe Red Breast is “oily” which I found a bit strange at first. But “oily” is a very apt description for the way that this whiskey envelops your mouth. Red Breast has a stickiness to it in the way it really lingers after you’ve swallowed it. Red Breast has a nice burn when it goes down; you can really sense it moving down your chest. It manages this “burn” without sacrificing any of its mellowness. It’s a perfect cold weather dram, with a warm firmness that’ll chase the chill away. Balance is another good term to describe Red Breast. Some Irish whiskey veers too far in one direction or another, sacrificing one characteristic for another. For instance, regular Jameson is certainly robust, but that is the case mostly because it has that harsh punch to it, not managing to smooth off its rough edge. Red Breast doesn’t sacrifice anything: it’s robust and smooth, assertive without being overpowering or harsh.
One should definitely enjoy this whiskey neat. The experts suggest a dash of cold water to open up the flavors, which I won’t dispute, but I’ll caution that at most bars, a dash is usually quite a bit more than that. Unless you really know and trust your bartender to measure well for you, you are better off taking this stuff straight. And if you find yourself sitting next to a Scotch snob at a bar who won’t lower himself to drink Irish whiskey because it is not “complex” enough, buy him a glass of Red Breast. The snob should then stand you to a glass of it to show his appreciation for introducing him to something so good.
Paddy’s Grade: A-
Friday, March 5, 2010
How Paddy grades whiskey
Since I write a good bit about how enthusiastic I am about Irish whiskey, and how much it annoys me if a bar doesn't carry enough of it, I figured I should include some whiskey reviews. Since it's March and people may be inclined to be adventurous and try something new, I'll work some whiskey reviews into the mix. But first, I should lay out what my grading system is. One man's C+ is another man's B. Now I don't want to claim to be an expert taster on the matter; I probably don't have the refined palate that people who can find "hints of aged tobacco, dried leather, and lemon peel" in a glass of whiskey. I just know what I like, and I'll try to communicate it to the readers. Additionally, I'd like to give a nod to a blog that's has been fighting the good fight with regard to championing the cause of Irish whiskey here in the USA. "Slainte: the Irish Whiskey Blog" features ratings and reviews on the matter of Irish whiskey, found at irishwhiskeyblog.com. The blogmaster, Rich Nagle, has tasted all kinds of Irish, and he writes about it all with unfussy aplomb. Anyway, here's my grading system for Irish whiskey (or any liquor).
A+: An ineffable masterpiece, a perfect construct of uisce beatha, it also tastes pretty damn good
A: A superb dram, magnificence in a glass, use for toasts on truly special occasions
A-: Greatness that’s worth every penny, top-notch craftsmanship that should be savored slowly, any flaws are so minor that they’re barely worth mentioning
B+: Really good whiskey, the kind that is your everyday whiskey if you can afford it, maybe a little lacking or overdone in some regard, but close to greatness
B: The everyday dram for enthusiasts who want a little more out of their whiskey, has plenty going for, and not too much going against it, if it’s the best option on a back bar you’ll be content
B-: Suitable for regular quaffing, the good outweighs the bad, although it flirts with mediocrity, a good choice if your connoisseur’s palate is distracted by fried food or lengthy conversation
C+: Whiskey that’s drinkable but you wish you had better, the flaws are apparent, although there’s enough redeeming quality to make it more or less worth the price. Usually the best you can do given meager selection
C: The working definition of mediocre; not that good, not too bad. A good choice if you need a dram to linger over, because you sure won’t be in a rush to slug this stuff down. Not good enough to savor, but a little too good to spit on the floor
C-: A whiskey that fails by trying to do too much, or doesn’t do enough. Barely drinkable, the kind of stuff you’ll settle for if your other options are equally underwhelming. The sort of whiskey you’ll definitely not order a second round of unless you’re having a really bad day.
D: Simply bad stuff, the kind of whiskey you’ll have to mix with seltzer or use for Irish coffee just to choke it down. If you’re really hankering for a glass of the Irish, and it’s your only choice, you’ll probably get bourbon instead.
D-: Truly rancid liquor. The only reason you won’t spit this stuff onto the floor is because you’re in polite company. The kind of drink you buy for someone who needs a comeuppance.
F: Absolute swill. No redeeming value whatsoever. You’ll taste this and wonder if monkeys were secretly using the sherry casks for restrooms. Tasting this garbage will make you understand why some people get irrevocably turned off by whiskey.
A+: An ineffable masterpiece, a perfect construct of uisce beatha, it also tastes pretty damn good
A: A superb dram, magnificence in a glass, use for toasts on truly special occasions
A-: Greatness that’s worth every penny, top-notch craftsmanship that should be savored slowly, any flaws are so minor that they’re barely worth mentioning
B+: Really good whiskey, the kind that is your everyday whiskey if you can afford it, maybe a little lacking or overdone in some regard, but close to greatness
B: The everyday dram for enthusiasts who want a little more out of their whiskey, has plenty going for, and not too much going against it, if it’s the best option on a back bar you’ll be content
B-: Suitable for regular quaffing, the good outweighs the bad, although it flirts with mediocrity, a good choice if your connoisseur’s palate is distracted by fried food or lengthy conversation
C+: Whiskey that’s drinkable but you wish you had better, the flaws are apparent, although there’s enough redeeming quality to make it more or less worth the price. Usually the best you can do given meager selection
C: The working definition of mediocre; not that good, not too bad. A good choice if you need a dram to linger over, because you sure won’t be in a rush to slug this stuff down. Not good enough to savor, but a little too good to spit on the floor
C-: A whiskey that fails by trying to do too much, or doesn’t do enough. Barely drinkable, the kind of stuff you’ll settle for if your other options are equally underwhelming. The sort of whiskey you’ll definitely not order a second round of unless you’re having a really bad day.
D: Simply bad stuff, the kind of whiskey you’ll have to mix with seltzer or use for Irish coffee just to choke it down. If you’re really hankering for a glass of the Irish, and it’s your only choice, you’ll probably get bourbon instead.
D-: Truly rancid liquor. The only reason you won’t spit this stuff onto the floor is because you’re in polite company. The kind of drink you buy for someone who needs a comeuppance.
F: Absolute swill. No redeeming value whatsoever. You’ll taste this and wonder if monkeys were secretly using the sherry casks for restrooms. Tasting this garbage will make you understand why some people get irrevocably turned off by whiskey.
Thursday, March 4, 2010
A pub in decline
March, or Saint Paddy’s month depending on your perspective, in upon us so I decided that I really need to ramp up the contributions to my blog. After all, this is the time that people of Irish extract, and those who aren’t (poor, unlucky souls) zero in on all things Irish to celebrate the season. (I like that term extract to describe someone’s ethnic background. I just picture someone squeezing an old-fashioned wine press and holding the liquid up to the Sun for inspection. “Yep, that’s some top quality Irish extract there.” A bizarre and random thought, perhaps, but isn’t that part of the reason people start blogs? That reason and also because they can’t find a publisher or get a job as a journalist). Anyway, back to business. I was hoping to start the month off with a bang; chronicling a top-notch pub that I can give high marks to. However, I have to work with what I have, and what I have an Irish pub right around the corner from me that I feel obligated to address.
A Piece of Ireland (Newark, DE) is unlike some of the other pubs I’ve recently chronicled. Some places I go a little easier on because they have untapped potential, or their flaws are offset by their strong points. Unfortunately, the inverse is true of A Piece of Ireland; I have to be a bit harsher with it because it is suffering a noticeable decline in quality with no apparent offset. If I were writing this review a year or two ago, I would be telling the tale of one of the best Irish pubs in the whole state of Delaware. Back then, the bar had a great selection, lots of live Irish music, and a general feel of an establishment that knew its identity and worked hard to maintain it. But lately, things have been on a slide at A Piece of Ireland.
I’ll start by highlighting what is still good about the place, and I will say that, on the whole, A Piece of Ireland is a good bar/restaurant. First off, I have always had excellent service; the bartenders have always been prompt, friendly, and knowledgeable. I’ve never been faced with some rookie barkeep that thinks every single liquor drink is supposed to come with a lime wedge garnish. (Note to entry-level bartenders, don’t put fruit on the edge of a glass holding good whiskey; it makes us experienced drinkers angry). Consistently good service is a rare enough thing these days, to receive it year in and year out from a bar is quite an accomplishment and my hat’s off to A Piece of Ireland.
The atmosphere is evocative of a traditional Irish country pub; with the dark wood exterior, white walled interior with short stools by the fireplace. There are the de rigueur pictures of Irish scenes and people along with framed poems and sayings from the literary children of old Eire. The actual bar isn’t of the dark wood variety, but that’s a good thing, considering that it wouldn’t match the light interior. It’s nice to see a place that demonstrates that is more than one Irish pub model to build on; they don’t all have to be dark wood, vaulted ceilings, and mirror backed bars.
That’s the good news, now the bad news, which is that A Piece of Ireland is slowly losing its Irish pub identity and is starting to look more and more like a basic local sports bar. They haven’t been adding any new Irish accents to their repertoire, but only losing them. Not too long ago, the pub had the best Irish whiskey selection of any Irish pub in the area. There used to be about a dozen Irish whiskies on hand, being the only place where I could order, say, Knappouge Castle. But they haven’t had Knappougue available for over a year, and I’ve seen Michael Collins, Jameson 18, and other labels slip away, not to be replaced. On my most recent visit, they had: Jameson, Jameson 12, Powers, Bushmills, Tullamore Dew, and Red Breast. I asked a bartender recently what the story was, and he said that they should still be carrying some of the stuff, but the other stuff is too expensive and they don’t get many calls for it. He pointed out some 12 year-old scotches that were selling well. I said, “tell people it’s an Irish place and they should try the Irish stuff out.” People think that I’m a bit fanatical on this point; the idea that Irish pubs have a responsibility to not only carry a wide range of Irish whiskies and beers, but to suggestively sell those items to their customers. People appreciate having bartenders recommend new drinks for them to try, and if you run an Irish pub, you should hire people who will create a demand for Irish items. If you can’t find Irish whiskey at an Irish pub, what do you do then?
In sum, A Piece of Ireland loses big points in my book for moving backwards with regard to their selection, carrying only half of what they used to in the whiskey department. And I don’t buy that cost is the only factor. On a recent visit I spotted a bottle of 10 Cane rum, which is very good but somewhat pricy rum. I find it hard to believe that this place sells a whole lot of this premium rum, but cannot move Michael Collins in any significant quantities. Maybe I’m making the situation too complicated, maybe it’s not someone with the green eyeshades and a calculator deciding what bar items make the cut. It could be that whoever does the liquor ordering just doesn’t care.
Okay, so the place is letting its selection slide, but it is a good place to have a drink? Well, yes and no. Like I said before, it’s a nice-looking place with consistently excellent service. But A Piece of Ireland certainly doesn’t have craic. It’s tough to put my finger on why exactly a place doesn’t have craic, but like the judge said about pornography, I know it when I see it. In the case of A Piece of Ireland, I know when I don’t see it. Maybe it’s the clientele. I generally don’t like to knock a bar’s customers, but there have been too many times when I’ve been in the place and have wished there were more bar stools between me and the people near me. Now, I’m not a squeamish or prudish person and I can handle rough language and colorful characters, but some people just put me off. For instance, people who can’t keep their hands off each other. Come on, grow up and get a room. I don’t want to see a couple of disgusting rednecks groping and tongue-kissing while I’m having a drink with my wife. Not all the patrons are trashy, but not discouraging low behavior in a bar contributes to the rot.
The scorecard for A Piece of Ireland: B-.
It may seem that I’m being too hard on this place, but as I said at the beginning, I’m going to have tougher words on a bar that was really good but is currently in decline. A Piece of Ireland should not be content to let itself go downhill. It used to be a real quality Irish pub, and it can be again if someone makes the effort to turn it around.
A Piece of Ireland (Newark, DE) is unlike some of the other pubs I’ve recently chronicled. Some places I go a little easier on because they have untapped potential, or their flaws are offset by their strong points. Unfortunately, the inverse is true of A Piece of Ireland; I have to be a bit harsher with it because it is suffering a noticeable decline in quality with no apparent offset. If I were writing this review a year or two ago, I would be telling the tale of one of the best Irish pubs in the whole state of Delaware. Back then, the bar had a great selection, lots of live Irish music, and a general feel of an establishment that knew its identity and worked hard to maintain it. But lately, things have been on a slide at A Piece of Ireland.
I’ll start by highlighting what is still good about the place, and I will say that, on the whole, A Piece of Ireland is a good bar/restaurant. First off, I have always had excellent service; the bartenders have always been prompt, friendly, and knowledgeable. I’ve never been faced with some rookie barkeep that thinks every single liquor drink is supposed to come with a lime wedge garnish. (Note to entry-level bartenders, don’t put fruit on the edge of a glass holding good whiskey; it makes us experienced drinkers angry). Consistently good service is a rare enough thing these days, to receive it year in and year out from a bar is quite an accomplishment and my hat’s off to A Piece of Ireland.
The atmosphere is evocative of a traditional Irish country pub; with the dark wood exterior, white walled interior with short stools by the fireplace. There are the de rigueur pictures of Irish scenes and people along with framed poems and sayings from the literary children of old Eire. The actual bar isn’t of the dark wood variety, but that’s a good thing, considering that it wouldn’t match the light interior. It’s nice to see a place that demonstrates that is more than one Irish pub model to build on; they don’t all have to be dark wood, vaulted ceilings, and mirror backed bars.
That’s the good news, now the bad news, which is that A Piece of Ireland is slowly losing its Irish pub identity and is starting to look more and more like a basic local sports bar. They haven’t been adding any new Irish accents to their repertoire, but only losing them. Not too long ago, the pub had the best Irish whiskey selection of any Irish pub in the area. There used to be about a dozen Irish whiskies on hand, being the only place where I could order, say, Knappouge Castle. But they haven’t had Knappougue available for over a year, and I’ve seen Michael Collins, Jameson 18, and other labels slip away, not to be replaced. On my most recent visit, they had: Jameson, Jameson 12, Powers, Bushmills, Tullamore Dew, and Red Breast. I asked a bartender recently what the story was, and he said that they should still be carrying some of the stuff, but the other stuff is too expensive and they don’t get many calls for it. He pointed out some 12 year-old scotches that were selling well. I said, “tell people it’s an Irish place and they should try the Irish stuff out.” People think that I’m a bit fanatical on this point; the idea that Irish pubs have a responsibility to not only carry a wide range of Irish whiskies and beers, but to suggestively sell those items to their customers. People appreciate having bartenders recommend new drinks for them to try, and if you run an Irish pub, you should hire people who will create a demand for Irish items. If you can’t find Irish whiskey at an Irish pub, what do you do then?
In sum, A Piece of Ireland loses big points in my book for moving backwards with regard to their selection, carrying only half of what they used to in the whiskey department. And I don’t buy that cost is the only factor. On a recent visit I spotted a bottle of 10 Cane rum, which is very good but somewhat pricy rum. I find it hard to believe that this place sells a whole lot of this premium rum, but cannot move Michael Collins in any significant quantities. Maybe I’m making the situation too complicated, maybe it’s not someone with the green eyeshades and a calculator deciding what bar items make the cut. It could be that whoever does the liquor ordering just doesn’t care.
Okay, so the place is letting its selection slide, but it is a good place to have a drink? Well, yes and no. Like I said before, it’s a nice-looking place with consistently excellent service. But A Piece of Ireland certainly doesn’t have craic. It’s tough to put my finger on why exactly a place doesn’t have craic, but like the judge said about pornography, I know it when I see it. In the case of A Piece of Ireland, I know when I don’t see it. Maybe it’s the clientele. I generally don’t like to knock a bar’s customers, but there have been too many times when I’ve been in the place and have wished there were more bar stools between me and the people near me. Now, I’m not a squeamish or prudish person and I can handle rough language and colorful characters, but some people just put me off. For instance, people who can’t keep their hands off each other. Come on, grow up and get a room. I don’t want to see a couple of disgusting rednecks groping and tongue-kissing while I’m having a drink with my wife. Not all the patrons are trashy, but not discouraging low behavior in a bar contributes to the rot.
The scorecard for A Piece of Ireland: B-.
It may seem that I’m being too hard on this place, but as I said at the beginning, I’m going to have tougher words on a bar that was really good but is currently in decline. A Piece of Ireland should not be content to let itself go downhill. It used to be a real quality Irish pub, and it can be again if someone makes the effort to turn it around.
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