TD 1
PROUDLY SPONSORED BY BARFLY BARFLY BARFLY words C
onor Stevens words Conor Stevens photo Killian Broderick words Conor Stevens Michael McDermott BARFLY words Ian Lamont photos Killian Broderick words Oisín Murphy-Hall photos Killian Broderick BARFLY words Ian Lamont photos Killian Broderick words Oisín Murphy-Hall photos Killian Broderick BARFLY words Ian Lamont photos Killian Broderick words Oisín Murphy-Hall photos Killian Broderick BARFLY words Ian Lamont photos Killian Broderick words Oisín Murphy-Hall photos Killian Broderick BARFLY words Ian Lamont photos Killian Broderick words Oisín Murphy-Hall photos Killian Broderick ENCHANTING ELIXERS The Sidecar MALLARD REACTION The Lucky Duck BARFLY As I write we have been experiencing something of a strawberry Spring. Winter has stormed out of the room only to repeatedly burst back in to bellow “and one more thing…”. April has been cruel indeed. Nevertheless, by the time you read this, or don’t, it’s not unreasonable to assume that the time for outdoor drinking will be upon us. To put this in context, I’m not predicting balmy 20-degree evenings, or even orange warnings for fake tan, merely a relaxation of the dank and dismal grip that we’ve been enduring of late. It may not be raining and cold. Given the relentlessly depressing nature of our weather it is probably churlish to point out that we do not have a superabundance of spots that reward the alfresco alcohol experience. The terrace at the back of the IFI is always overlooked in this respect. Most regular folks tend to hit and run, perhaps enjoying a pre-or-post film glass of something. I imagine that this is the point of the place but I’ve found over the years that this space can repay the patient tippler with singular pleasures. This weather has never been a consideration I’m joined by Red Ben, erstwhile pinko to my ponce, for this, my thirteenth Barfly jeremiad. He is a man who (as I’ve mentioned before) is both very partial to and very picky about his drinks. He’s all about quality and quantity. We get along just great. At my suggestion we enjoy a couple of potent gins and tonics (Garnish Island Gin and Fevertree with a wedge of lime) at the office before setting out. Refreshed, we hit the City and point ourselves toward Aungier St. Expectations are lower than a snake’s belly but I’ve decided to give the Press Up group one last chance not to disappoint or enrage me. I’m momentarily buoyed up by my own magnanimity. Opened about six weeks ago now in the former Aungier House space (on a particularly unlovely stretch of the street), the place has been gutted and thoroughly Pressed-Up. Ben 1. 2. tells me that the place was originally to be called ‘The Dutch Billy’ until some locals “lodged some protests through the windows.” On the ground floor you get a facsimile of a Victorian pub that the owners/designers imagine might appeal to a target audience that may or may not exist. There’s a handsome copper bar and a very impressive dark mahogany back bar. Framed photographs of auld Dublin festoon the walls. It’s nice work. As I’ve been saying ad nauseam, these guys do nice interiors, just not content. I’m less impressed with a ‘snug’ that would make a street-side installation of its inhabitants. The barkeep is sporting a topknot and braces. mixes a better Martinez than yo tud y’e roum is s to find out w nh d h m rewarded with the bs it me p a very pleasant place to be on a Tsed to be use or indeed any night. It is beautif n auld hly lit, loan ucur bg yohe whaat the Thr t and en love ping. From the black m rble floo mo oas Read had alretady been doina, the dark inlaid wood fini hs es th namlace has b CRAFTWERK Lockdown has definitely led to the rise of the cocktail makers and shakers. The desire to garnish our lives has led to a pique in curiosity about what it takes to become a mixologist at home. Cork-based food stylist and photographer Monika Coghlan has published Craft Cocktails, a new book in which she collects stories and recipes from our leading spirit makers. From classic favourites with a modern twist to more adventurous takes, she has assembled a 100% Irish classic to bookend all your bottles. pepperazzi.ie €24.95 The Ivy stands on the elegant corner site at the junction of Parliament Street and Dame Street, rejuvenating the space that used to be The Thomas Read, figurehead of the doomed pub group which was feasted on by fellow publicans following its collapse in 2008. The status quo for new bar concepts in o. Th a s Doblin i uuesday night,d for (in more vuthen , ac timy t ar’s h t oea ion, however, t t ot’s art-deco’d to within an inch of i been at that pas - ular corn Daniel in uirf th ence. It is a 1930s cocktail bar as designn lo kinaz L hru mann. Nevertheless, it fe ls likv e as, to itel bar in the best way and the room is hummingl for my enjoyment of the space, even in the face of common sense. During my time trading at the Temple Bar Food Market (as a gentleman fishmonger) we would always finish up here to piss and moan, quite literally. Those days are sadly behind me, there are more unpleasant things to wash one’s hands of. Nevertheless, the IFI Gastronomic Council (of which I am a founding member) has been meeting here If you have any interest in what you drink This may or may not be policy. Time will tell. He’s an affable young man and while I dither over my order he offers me a taste of the new Heineken product, H41. I guess it’s their Hop 40 52 52 52 52 52 44 . when we make our entrance. you will want to follow our lead and take a seat at the handsome zinc bar. This is where it happens. This is where your attention should be. If you are over six feet tall you won’t have any legroom but you will care less as the night e p ed as it was aeen fter t ah lm lert t im’ p e t t t had ts glittering exirtic MISADVENTURES Huck’s aeons. Ied boy B g to es w tsh a new idents ty, t neo e I y ha n ho ts credit, avo oideruioed ora most tempting y o vb iou eacoutep. D8 BEERS D8 Beers were founded on the idea that good beer, made by good people, can bring good to others. That’s why all proceeds from the sale of their first brew are going to My Lovely Horse Rescue. Their limited edition D8 Winter Ale is “a banger of a brew,” in the scientific words of their crafty brewing partners Third Barrel Brewing. With hints of honeycomb, caramel, dried fruits, biscuit and orange zest, at a robust 8% ABV, their D8 Winter Ale is a beer to be savoured – like a massive hug from yer Ma! All orders available for collection from The Thomas House on December 12 & 13. d8beers.com mylovelyhorserescue.com e cuos Ivy is a sister bar to House on Leeson Street, 37 Dawson Street and Xico on Baggot Street (amongst others) run by businessman Alan Clancy. Like each of those bars of those bars, The Ivy is not playing for cutting edge or kooky. In fact even more so than its siblings, this bar The Terrace at The Irish Film Institute Meeting House Square Dublin 2 The Lucky Duck 43 Aungier St Dublin 2 (01) 405 4824 theluckyduck.ie 8a Camden Street Dublin 2 In the g ear t Dublin vintners ca ve-un , The my secoat t. I’e building I’ve e aer hadti t anes)ime, anyw tourist wri Michael McDermott Ben Walsh photos Killian Broderick o OLD TO BEGIN The Ivy ABBEY HOUR IN AUGUST COMPANY The Terrace at The Irish Film Institute As you read this, even as you don’t, we are (doubtless) still in the grip of our most severe Winter since records began and the city remains clenched within its unyielding gelid fist. Even if this is not the case it’s still January and you could almost certainly use a little pick-me-up. I prescribe an intensive course of top-shelf depressants to banish those post-festive blues. At the very least one might succeed in pushing those blues out to early Spring. Best of all – with the savings you’ve made by eating in Chinese supermarkets all month you’ll have the means to treat yourself to a moderate, guiltless debauch. The Sidecar at The Westbury Hotel should be just the ticket. I’m joined for the night by my old mucker Red Ben, a man uniquely qualified for this particular assignment. We s a eh r d more than a couple of drinks in our college days and although I had the pleasure of attending his nupti la s in the Summer this still feels like something of a reunion. One of the most discerning and considered drinkers I have ever known, he addresses every glass with an interrogative rigour and has borne his gout with great courage and quiet dignity. He also The Jf tholly Monk on an ordering strat y bef ‘It’s weird how monks are allowed to drink, isn’t it?’ I ask Anton as we approach The Jolly Monk, the newly renovated bar of the Abbey Hotel. ‘I mean, as in you would think drinking would be unfolds. We are two boozy moths to the flame e glowing backbar. Daniel, our slick, whitejacketed b rta ender (please desist from using the term ‘mixologist’) glides silently over to us and oo little cr e s s a pours us som he c ampagne into t ywu idiot,’ hys at lys. ‘Look a ht t e sign!’ A monk coupes, ‘for while we look over thho lo we m oks li’enu. It’ke Neil Morrissey is holding aloft a classy move and it sets the tone beer stein with a smile on his face. Anton pauses eg 3.ore we goought: ‘I suppose childminder For about a year now, progressing along Camden Street, I had seen the hoarding advertising “HUCKLEBERRY’S coming soon”, complete with a depiction of the Mississippi River and one of Mark Twain at the height of his moustachewearing powers, and I dreaded the day that such a place would actually open. San Francisco is far from Hannibal, Missouri, he says. ‘Name one profession that doesn’t.’ I think for a moment. our first order is fo or ‘ ur drinks’ – the dr’ink that m ta erialises in each of our brain f dra o hen w hear the word ‘co kc tail’. So that’ impermanen Manhattan for Ben and a Grey Goose Mintini super dirty for Conor. l’ It is testament to Danie s abilities and experience that he simultaneously manion in its vadiou the finest iteration of this drink th r at I’ ic t ys had in this country while making ie. Sufr that he the dirty martini has always had sg a martini glass at the corner of the bar and of the douchbag about it. It could be the s se doesn’t ent eir ly approve of my o M . He’s less Rita Hayworth w f drink of Florida, America’s wang f. Bm P ess epya John’s pizza boxes on their laps (the il narrow momentar y and he no bs sageity aen o ens at the start of Oct bo er, I’m Manh ta tan. It’s a very good start. Desperate fo validation now I put myself in D uoaniels inf’s hingemen a crn tthat. He makes iha n French G’velling in a d adultera es with Peychgud Bitter unfa tor sa tabilih and proceed it o ah int m Eng s f bd gs ing dowe zesngn thet, the better to pe ofume s r h si My turn to blush. The dr t hisink is fllol ral s sub and a ’romartic a pd I drink it in nea he sets us up with an elegant, aust Aeer Vieuxn old man wearing a slightly-too-large cruCarré and a modern Negr nio mcifix neckelace passes by us as we return to our Ben savours an Aperol Negroni A changbju ugation of the other. This, I supbartender sees Cathal prepare upose, io h eeab Cr kl pitfall of the hotel bar for the Old-Fashioned and a Corpse Revi er res eclation: here, everyone is an outsider. tive yl . B th are ex s s ercepah ibly in its glass. Befy, engaagste er o q e city foes as tro which hand If’e dill be drinking y lef li hman w even heard some protest that certain of their ‘rights’ are being infringed as they are ushered out of this private space, bottles and cans clanking, by the long suffering security guys. They should totally take to Facebook to vent their witless outrage and probably do. On this occasion they seem too caned to fight for their right to party. Pity. We begin with a round of Pastis, in this case THE WHITE RALPH’S Gustave Tops is the Belgian barman who invented The White Russian, in the Hotel Metropole in Brussels, in 1949. He made it in honour of Perle Mesta, the socialite, political hostess and U.S. ambassador to Luxembourg. The Russian hovered in the mid-tier of cocktail popularity until The Big Lebowski detonated cult status under it. Now designer Jordan Ralph has shaken and stirred a new buzz with his batches of White Ralph’s. With neat branding and milk bottleeffect presentation, it’s lead to outbreak of cream covered lips on all the right faces. We can’t best their own description of it tasting like “Hopper’s Nighthawks on the rollover with a Japanese soft serve ice cream.” The dude abides! @thewhiteralph rder k i s right, inomething on d ar’s kl cht hisp Thi ess thar recarious emotional state of the here. A b pest lokgaree. Susan Sontag notes how the tini h t o Huck’cesllent. Upon Dvniel’ n s a spicer,’ Anton suggests. ade on M zcal. I do not think I would root through all his novels and come up with: He used to lay drunk with the hogs in the tanyard The Ivy 1-4 Parliament Street, Temple Bar, Dublin 8 theivydublin.ie 01-6718267 navtiv,e popu - ‘Eaeryo es ret’ urn Pernod adulterated with ice water. One would of course prefer Ricard but it’s a nice way to start and gets us through the sole item on the council agenda – ‘Why eggs are so hot right now’. We generally stick to pints here but tonight we throw out the script because we’re spending end up is also where the food does (there is a full menu which I’ll never sample). Also turns out that I don’t enjoy the smell of scallops when I’m in for cocktails. Wouldn’t be a problem if the other rooms were available I guess. There are but two stools at a very small bar. I feel as if we could just swivel around and give a presentation to the diners. Our barman up here is again very pleasant and engaging. His britches are also held up with braces. He does the right thing and asks us how we like our drinks. Ben’s is an old fashioned made on Rittenhouse Rye, I am said to be a revolutionist in my sympathies, by birth, by breeding and by principle. I am always on the side of the revolutionists, because there never was a revolution unless there were some oppressive and intolerable conditions against which to revolute. . of the s e of s a Kns t e r but it is keen to claim Samuel Clemens as its own. I have spent some time there and I love the man who quit the slavers’ army to cross first the fledgling stagecoach nation and then the world in steam, spinning tall tales and challenging every authority along the way; the man who stood against his country’s racist brutality at home, against its imperialism in the Philippines and against Belgium’s in the Congo; who defied religious hypocrites and moralists wherever he found them. Not all of his writing is all that good, because an unusual and totally unnecessary commitment to paying his debts meant a lot of pot-boiling. Did you know there’s a whole book where Tom Sawyer and his friends travel above Africa in a hot-air balloon? It’s terrible. Dublin is even further from Hannibal, Missouri. We have no real connection to Samuel Clemens at all, but if I were to try to capture the essence of Samuel Clemens in one quotation, I might choose: in weekly session for over a decade now. In all weathers. On more than one occasion hot water bottles, flasks and even balaclavas have been deployed to counter gelid conditions. Turns out that drinks don’t really taste of anything when the ambient temperature is minus nine. We had no such concerns on a recent drizzly . We had decided in tht here so Saturday evening. Our council quorum comprised Comic Book Guy, Stoney Paul, Sweet William and my good self. Mary from Dunloe would swing by later to gripe about the quality of tonic water in her gin. Contrary to unpopular belief, the terrace is not a BYOB affair. The kids who congeal in the square every week, as the market folds, have yet to receive the memo. Their repeated attempts to flout this seemingly apparent statute punctuate my every visit and never fail to provide some entertainment. I’ve 52 44 52 44 The Sidecar and The Westbury Hotel Balfe St, Dublin 2. (01) 679 1122 House 13, moderately better than the piss you’re used to but still not worth drinking. He is blameless in this. The website promises ‘proper pints… golden, melty toasties and good conversation.’ This kind of copy is supposed to establish tone of voice. It succeeds in establishing a direct line of communication with my stomach ulcer. Serenity now! We order a couple of pints of Guinness which turn out to be not improper and talk about Ben’s desire for underfloor heating in his new house before moving to discuss the life and works of Saint Augustine of Hippo. His ‘Confessions’ still retain the power to succour those whose paths have led to dissipation. We decide for the purpose at hand to drink our way to the top floor (much like Augustine himself) only to be told by topknot that the top two rooms are closed. Nevertheless, we are ushered up to the purgatorial second floor with great ceremony. Those upper floors are again pleasant places to be, with deep blue walls, some bright modern canvasses and nice furniture that somebody else can describe if they wish. Turns out that The Digges Room where we more Engtliath lads’ weekend holidayers eating ro en’ a told) and heckrling nearby indi idv uals for varir ands forts on their psychical comfort. s a Bulleit Ryece, of mystery and briefly, fleetino ly intersectarg li ,ves, in a place that is at once home a part to p al y in this, surely, with the institutages to pro ruces guises over the years housing omanvte evrer ts, capers, murder plots and the likt cleafice it to say, however, that The Jolly ist ully fingerprohibited or something.’ ‘What’s weird about that? Everybody drinks,’ ‘I suppose I thought that the monk was one.’ ‘They named a bar after the monk’s drinking, OLD TO BEGIN The Ivy OLD TO BEGIN The Ivy But it’s a version of this that appears above the door of Huck’s. A hundred years ago, of course, Dublin Castle’s RIC garrison were known as the “hogs in the tanyard” by those who were revoluting, but I don’t really see the significance today. If you are expecting more Mark Twain content on the inside, the first thing to greet you is one of B.P. Fallon’s photos of Shane MacGowan. I love Shane MacGowan and I love B.P. Fallon, and if you’re opening a B.P. Fallon themed bar on Camden Street, that is long overdue; it should of course be called “Purple-browed Beep’s”. But this place, inexplicably, is called “Huck’s”. They have a pizza menu. Not for the first time, The Jolly Monk OLD TO BEGIN The Ivy ABBEY HOUR The Jolly Monk OLD TO BEGIN The Ivy ABBEY HOUR The Ivy stands on the elegant corner site at the junction of Parliament Street and Dame Street, rejuvenating the space that used to be The Thomas Read, figurehead of the doomed pub group which was feasted on by fellow publicans following its collapse in 2008. The status quo for new bar concepts in o b o used to be used fo g ore perorakin ide s w ink eg in a hotel bar. The sense of been at th Whdge pled colo y fo in Theres something quite a uring about t w at the Thomatt Th Ih n the g ea ll and not home. The cinematic imagination hasIn the g ear t D bv e wa ey Hotvy manages es t si n e ance aer scifix necklace passes by us a os ble chu ects’ bas 4. s, maybe.’ and hang your ba ned affili s D 44 he h traVine Gin din idv ual alleviates her anxiety at s. It blmi sar sulihesurroundings by recourse to p o ographore I t ing with her environment from the stance of the quotidian f ro m; so too the t with a striipth ‘banter’, or the death-spasms of th ernce proud colonial mindset that served orica y so well as a comfort blanket for the Qr silenueen’ ce. jects’ baser sensibilities at the cost CRAFTYWERK Bar 1661 off Capel Street hadn’t even reached its one year anniversary in business when it had to shut up shop cause of the Covid. But behind the shutters, the industrious Dave Mulligan was concocting a survival pivot for his business which led to the launch of his Craft Cocktail selection this autumn. Using premium sprits, 100% natural ingredients and some serious bartender knowhow, the award-winning team have poured their passion and expertise into a colourful collection of premium bottled cocktails. Available online from Fresh g t le of m ur most temptingly obvious route. n th Ivy is a sister bar to House on Leeson Street, 37 Dawson Street and Xico on Baggot Street (amongst others) run by businessman Alan Clancy. Like each of those bars of those bars, The Ivy is not playing for cutting edge or kooky. In fact even more so than its siblings, this bar s ov wese r t. ‘Ar g ou go tan, opting for Buffalo Tr t waes oetf Fy fn the niceties are observed! A chilled coupe glass. A bamboo knot fi en its proximity to The Swan, an ac ual real pu Carpano Antica F i h ula yields a feere aops braces here, just bracers anpped out for one ofur e ias s pr arar therBrc usct hn ooem was sueperhit, but t er et-B ace rye. And some of named as it was after t e cutler’s s ore that had o gi es Ab lbl’, The Iel the b t pQo co f seniority ecen tu peak of (bme er a u lin vintners carve-up, The o slooided goraar p aegns. In look ma , un ssuming byr eh ith n h flohm n w nd a ’ Ivy has, to its cre t52t tod y’a s Dublin is to fin bd o t tut what tarticu ar corner of the cit s iThiy for r (in mt a sh ps burer tiof the fa s, tatiow o52, t tho tig to esta Stefan’s money. Stoney Paul loses the run of himself and orders an espresso martini, the rest of us make do with some well made Aperol spritzes. The BYOB table is now populated by a woman self-consciously reading a book and a chap furiously scribbling in his Moleskine. You get a lot of that hereabouts. Service is generally cheery but on less clement mine a bone-dry gin martini built on Tanqueray Ten. They are both good drinks and worth the twelve euro price tags. Brian, our bartender tells us of a recent run on espresso martinis that caused the coffee machine to pack in. That’s where we’re at. We go on to put down two solid negronis, made 50/50. All the while I can’t shake the feeling that I can’t think of a good reason not to be somewhere else. I’m not referring to the company, it’s just that it feels like a place without a raison ‘etre. Perhaps the raison d’etre is simply to generate revenue for the Press Up Group. I need more than this, even taking into account the ‘unobtrusive power outlets on the customer side of the bar.’ It’s not a bad spot, just unnecessary, especially I’m glad this lies outside my remit. There is a “boilermaker” list, and I think this is conceptually a good thing; a boilermaker is simply a beer and a shot; you don’t pour the one into the other, and to have well-chosen pairings of beers and whiskeys is a sound idea and can be done very well. Unfortunately, to execute it requires either a decent selection of beer or a decent selection of whiskey, preferably both, and we’re out of luck here, on two counts. Five Lamps and Tullamore Dew isn’t really going to do it. There are four American whiskeys available in Huck’s – there are many more vodkas and flavoured gins – and two of those are Jack Daniel’s. I look over the cocktail menu. The drinks all een a give way to an implacable sadnn in itio ess. Thht ta e bomaks Read had already b en doin toe ring in life, that make your l ughoer very qe cinklyematic imaginat’s kithc t a part to p a e Th of his t-shirt reads ‘Thy’a s D b at shine ft th t p ae spaotlight’ in cy has, tve, un inside don’t need th nd h ng your bar’s h It oursi o say times)bli h a new idenititlyl, t used to be uselikod f r (in m s. It ttho tig to esta ers, that Tht ur o y a picture of a candle. Hhe Thill return m loementahros ily t tod y’a s Dublin is to fin bd out w t phmore Eng e aeoore au enycbimes) enormou e used for (in mns. In lo king to es aapba J hn’s pow xes on their laps (tEnglishm and hang your bar’s h Ivy h s, tt. Hobedi’s ki h’ o recite a poem oen aef hi ht ts own, printli d o t in ahe city for used t s f lder (A2 size m f m Pt The Ivy stands on the elegant corner site at the junction of Parliament Street and Dame Street, rejuvenating the space that used to be The Thomas Read, figurehead of the doomed pub group which was feasted on by fellow publicans following its collapse in 2008. The status quo for new bar concepts in have Mark Twain themed names, which is a nice touch and is all well and good until you come to look at what’s actually in them. Poor old aunt Polly, for all her failings, does not deserve to have her name given to a mix of “Absolut Vanilla, green apple and ginger purée, lime and red wine float.” No-one does. A concoction called “Steam Boat” has Olmeca tequila in it. “The Duke and the King” leads with Slane whiskey. There is something with Bombay Sapphire “East” gin and something with hazelnut liqueur The only safe option when faced with this sort p wahen t eaee at was a tas he c’ comttproauns t hint h s cats on t -t phe buillding irritathing it is when p t tad heople utlold) aning l ys it s nam d as ie in oth . I h at part ticee peo er of the citur sch lleme, strfe diik id a nine q unters, a ita, t, wf freso immeadiaite flanter, o ular cornwoo. That Thre Jo y Monpe s a costanw mforuo inabrble coo establisah a new idenrtrays o bdit, a s Re mosd ad alre o been doulde vib , b t b anhinr t a en e tt y eg at Doulin vintner’ s, wunfat m sa or’s ha Ivy hahaouts cre erv t, avhao’sy so tingly by ob io s r, 44 vad of fing do d ethc ps beinog a li tle ov h ni l mindset that serv historically so well as a comfort blanket for t evenings the servers are less inclined to venture out for orders. I can’t really blame them. There are things to eat too, should you require them. The menu has recently been revamped and I’m hearing good things. I can vouch for the fish and chips. Certain elements could be helped - the awning at the back (end of the space) has been non-functional for about two years, ditto the heater at the front. The new chairs will make stitutions before leaving. g v Drinks of this quality come at a price and ofb. We repair to it w t ou Good Food Markets, Mitchell & Sons, Celtic Whiskey Shop, Station to Station Wine, Blackrock Cellars, Decent Drinks Club, Allta, Mr. Fox, Woodruff, Brother Hubbard, The Big Romance and The Circular. craftcocktails.ie €12.50, €35 I’m not referring to my liver or mental health. The cost of these superb elixirs ranged between thirteen and eighteen euros. Each was worth the price. You are paying for top-drawer ingredients and glassware as well as the expertise and intuition of the guy with the shaker. If you want an eight euro Sex on the Beach take yourself off to TGI Friday’s. It is not by accident that the place has won Best Hotel Cocktail Bar at The Irish Craft Cocktail Awards for two years straight. We regard certain restaurants as special occasion places so why not a bar? In the same way that you don’t saunter into Eleven Madison Park because you’re peckish, you won’t be dropping in here to cure a mid-week hangover, or heaven forfend, for a ‘rake of pints’. It’s for special. Wear some adult shoes and run a comb through your hair. Chin-chin! or the Luxardo cherriest. A bottle orm t debate. Thw drre n,o ut it is then discretely swad the propriety of o Martini Rossi. And the whole thing doesn’t taste of a damn thing. I don’t know what to make of a bar with a theme. Should I be in costume? Should it be? Is *I just took a break from writing this to meet an old friend, only to find that the outdoor space at Pinxto’s is now a non-smoking space. The place is now dead to me. We repaired instead to the very subject of this ‘review’ and enjoyed a slightly too cold cheese board and a couple of decent pours of wine. A very seviceable Picpoul and a Gamay that would give Beaujolais a good name if I could only remember it. there an essence of Mark Twain that we are trying to capture here on Camden Street, where he never was, and what he would have made of it? He never signed up for this. Consulting Thom’s Directory for the period, this building, number eight Camden Street, was home to the Boland brothers, coachmakers, with a (very prosperous!) rateable valuation of 23 pounds in 1862, a couple of years before The Celebrated Jumping Frog of Calaveras County made it into print but, thankfully, not into a cocktail. The Jolly Monk 52 Middle Abbey Street, Dublin 1 01-8728188 www.thejollymonk.ie “By trying we can easily learn to endure adversity. Another man’s, I mean.” BW *I mean that figuratively of course, I was not literally overwhelmed by women. pints is never in doubt. We roll on to meet Jerry ‘Two Jacks’, a fellow traveler from our university days, in Grogan’s. He’s back from London on business and in unusually pleasant form. I’ve never been the biggest fan of the shop but I respect its essential Grogan’sness. It is very much what it is. The Lucky Duck just isn’t and I can’t see time changing that. Like everything that they touch, it bears the feel of something curated rather than created. The bought-in talent do their design job and it stops there. There is taste but no flavour. There are never any of the rough edges that might snag your interest or catch that place where loyalty begins. Money doesn’t make this happen, that is a canard. This is the opposite of a passion project. I hear that the boss man at Press Up doesn’t take a drink. Uh huh, makes sense. your ass feel as if it is being griddled. People have been known to use copies of this august journal to protect their flanks. If that burning orb in the firmament does make itself known get a crew together and try it out for size. I may be there but don’t let that put you off. neither extensive nor minimal, but with enough selection to keep brewheads happy. Their signature cocktail is the Negroni, with a heapful of variations on the menu. I plumped for a Boulevardier (€9) made with Bulleit bourbon which was really tastily balanced between sweet and bitter. The Ivy styles itself as “luxurious continental o having a de en f lace f r ibie; i he s b d wh f th o lf th e e might wa der in tand of Exc e, is tquer St e o hven do craft beer! Ito’ t The Ihy is tthat s to it’ do ther helmin le yy* p inla Ivy is a sister bar to House on Leeson Street, 37 Dawson Street and Xico on Baggot Street (amongst others) run by businessman Alan Clancy. Like each of those bars of those bars, The Ivy is not playing for cutting edge or kooky. In fact even more so than its siblings, this bar v t por a ne There m y or may no ton as ear f cifix necklace passes by us as we return to ou ye at t At thoint. We pen. ‘ e’ uden le ty drink a co prour review?’ Atio oe a tks mor e.o onming in Ben ing e of carry-on is the canon, so I call for a Manhat y bably by a ra nt b f five t e as we exit, wav’s t hi e bo ths pe bma s saele t ioe pf craft b les,unny.’ranca to calm our constyle bar”, suited to “watching the world go by whilst regaling old times”. While its oldness is contrived, it’s also strangely convincing. We probably all know some people who can’t wait to be grown-up, for whom it seems engagement rings and mortgages are one and two on the life agenda. This bar, born old, seems like a good fit for them. WINE NOT The landmark Leeson Lounge is getting a new lease of life under its reinvention as a neighbourhood wine bar. Facing down the superstitious protesters, it opened on Friday November 13th and is already hunkering down as a favourite. Proprietors Shane Murphy and Mick O’Connell have been going through their Rolodex of contacts for some exciting collaborations also. Their Sip’n’Dip event saw them hook up with Scéal Bakery and Cian Greene, whose Ómós project is eagerly anticipated, for some French Dip Beef sambas washed down with some natural wines. Expect more of these in the pipeline. 148 Upper Leeson Street, Dublin 4 neighbourhoodwine.ie ub t pubs i. s e venera nble Old St o have a drink and rreelet. Th y e The t er no at ble thing ab s u u p to tve pa ron opug tted bt to puy the fairer sex, The Ivy 1-4 Parliament Street, Temple Bar, Dublin 8 theivydublin.ie 01-6718267 ow ts guests ajugau n tion ooeve o ax. e auld lad in wn the hings and photograerlit), a Englis wers ah ‘b aws r the death-spasm f the otnce pro p sud colo ueen’s svbjy a sensteensibilities at the cos of tt reminded me erther. This, I suppose h he real pitfall of the hotel bar for the The Ivy 1-4 Parliament Street, Temple Bar, Dublin 8 theivydublin.ie 01-6718267 native population: here, eve ‘Everyone’s a spicer,’ Anton An old man wearing a sli native population: here, everyone is an outsi ‘Everyone’s a spicer,’ Anton suggests. An old man wearing a slightly-too-large c t on tmo i n om J lideo t d g oetcah.vellin ad h t tempadlde wvoringoute s carve-uhy, engaging with her en irv onm cifix neck ce of thgs,t-tidian f ro m; so too th ouritsity, trit large. Susa rapp, Thea we h dings b e haumi et urroun trawn theg indi idv ual alleviates her anxiety at en the The Ivy 1-4 Parlia Temple B theivydub 01-67182 li kar ses t em is y recourse to p oh t ent from w at the Thomas Re m ad alrpady been dous roeuc .teling nea er ts es t Dus inf s t oug h fy’r nd cfl er tsyIn t ler’s s blib hm ’emen ve-upheir psychic Queen’o , Th tiinla s au ns. In lot of invnisthdd be tc e a orem tat- n t. Ho5.di f the Thk g doinm s Read with its aeoore au en c times)bli h a nsee, Bery thtia ht w e apen ion Sontag notes how th pose, is th Ivy is a sister bar to House on Leeson Street, 37 Dawson Street and Xico on Baggot Street (amongst others) run by businessman Alan Clancy. Like each of those bars of those bars, The Ivy is not playing for cutting edge or kooky. In fact even more so than its siblings, this bar sut e greaaoe tya, a g w iden n adf e precarious emotional statof the sub s th hlin vinenr adnert creh ac e os eme tingse tbv eir phkones rby indi idv uahi tor vas oricallr r dent w ver voat s y o hio d h, at on t aah o its crar t, a th ided g pens awn te s a at t e builldingrner o thoatiro te?) alisbo h a nt hizza bo h ou ew identity, t e y o v tod ose th r s to finbd out wts, c pers, m uff n what te w ing a marItini g ass at tlin vintner’s ca vf the bar an omas Re m ad alrpady been dous rou . named as it was after t e cu ler’r tt Dub e corner o r e-up, The articu ar co sh ladsf tu’ we k nd holidayerfas eastan Monk is less Rita Ha b io ing, s s o e. S aeoore au en c owev av n th o its cre erdi , t ot, avhat’s ad h t tem tingl yworth w f h n tthe g ea re that had at. How v e en raphy, eng s e ditin , t c en ooing dot thhet rt of Octf tbooher, I’me onc ls f t tday’s Duves, in a p - u lin iom tic tr rom the ar co nur er of th This ior ice in lo kin, hderided going do named as ius guifstes over th er the y rus horin an een ays at the builldingrder plots an s the ts vario ac t was a e cutler’s s ooe that had e city fd th oe Jst wr itset ulltrawellineg unfamilia y fvn th ingeraand ntt home. Th uics hat on that. Hobarion hh wh l y in this, surely, with the instild) atundtear s infus used to be used for (in more authen c times) and hang your bar’ wever, t a Ivy is a sister bar to House on Leeson Street, 37 Dawson Street and Xico on Baggot Street (amongst others) run by businessman Alan Clancy. Like each of those bars of those bars, The Ivy is not playing for cutting edge or kook In fact even more so than its siblings, this bar a part to play in this, surely, tion in its various guises ove romantic trysts, capers, mur like. Suffice it to say, howev Monk is less Rita Hayworth ing a martini glass at the co more English lads’ weekend from Papa John’s pizza boxe bar’s kitchen opens at the st told) and heckling nearby in ous infringements on their This is the precarious emoti tourist writ large. Susan Son travelling individual alleviat unfamiliar surroundings by raphy, engaging with her en safe distance of the quotidia Englishman with ‘banter’, or of the once proud colonial m historically so well as a com Queen’s subjects’ baser sens of the subjugation of the oth pose, is the real pitfall of the seats after smoking on the terrace. ‘You’re so h pa py,’ he stops to say to me. ‘I wish I was that happy!’ It’s one of those exchanges, rarelblin i The Ivy stands on the elegant corner site at the junction of Parliament Street and Dame Street, rejuvenating the space that used to be The Thomas Read, figurehead of the doomed pub group which was feasted on by fellow publicans following its collapse in 2008. The status quo for new bar concepts in aarticu idea of drinking in a hotel b impermanence, of mystery intersecting lives, in a place and not home. The cinemat e sense of ing a mar hmore Eng tion in its romantic like. Suffi s at once hg ftirom Papa al comfs sru e of the native pop ‘Everyone An old ABBEY HOUR The Jolly Monk ABBEY HOUR ‘It’s weird how monks are al it?’ I ask Anton as we appro the newly renovated bar of mean, as in you would thin prohibited or something.’ ‘What’s weird about that? The Jolly Monk ‘It’s weird it?’ I ask A the newly mean, as i prohibited ‘What’s ‘It’s weird how monks are allowed to drink, i it?’ I ask Anton as we approach The Jolly Mo the newly renovated bar of the Abbey Hotel. mean, as in you would think drinking would ‘I suppose I thought that ‘They named a bar after t he says. ‘Name one profession that doesn’t.’ I think for a moment. he says. ‘N think for ‘I suppo ‘They n he says. ‘Name one professio think for a moment. you idiot,’ who looks beer stein in though There’s you idiot,’ he says. ‘Look at who looks like Neil Morriss beer stein with a smile on h in thought: ‘I suppose child There’s something quite a a part to p prohibited or something.’ ‘What’s weird about that? Everybody drink idea of dr imperman intersectin and not h ‘I suppose I thought that the monk was on ‘They named a bar after the monk’s drinki you idiot,’ he says. ‘Look at the sign!’ A mon who looks like Neil Morrissey is holding alof beer stein with a smile on his face. Anton pa in thought: ‘I suppose childminders, maybe.’ There’s something quite alluring about the idea of drinking in a hotel bar. Th Monk is l impermanence, of mystery and briefly, fleeti intersecoing li y occurs to flind out wace th hat iat t e buildino The Ivy stands on the elegant corner site at the junction of Parliament Street and Dame Street rejuvenating the space that used to be The Thomas Read, figurehead of the doomed pub group which was feasted on by fellow publican following its collapse in 2008. The status quo for new bar concepts in