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Archive for the ‘Pubs’ Category

I’d love to say I took the pictures below but alas, I’m just not that good. They belong to a bloke I’ve only ever known as Janer who I met whilst serving my apprenticeship with the punks. I came across the images when working on another project recently; I’d thought his specialty was gig photography but when I browsed his albums on pix.ie, I came across some stunning pieces of social photography which Janer has kindly given me permission to reproduce here.

Meet Trixie and Duke

The Reader

Amien's Street pint on Stephen's Day

 Its a hard thing to capture Dublin properly, but scrolling through the albums, be they pictures from gigs, reflective moments in pubs or images of Dublin streetscapes, Janer does a good job of it. 

Christy sneaking in a quick pint

Dusk on St. Ignatius' Road

Wednesday Pints

Feet!

These images were all taken from different albums on Janers PunkRock profile, which can be found here.  Cheers to the lad for letting me stick these up.

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Dropping into a pub like this (by which I mean any pub in Temple Bar) is always a risk. It’s no lie to say that you’d be very hard pushed to find a non- tourist frequenting them, Foggy Dew aside, and maybe that’s for a good reason. So, after a long day of work for me, and a hard days sticking it to the man for DFallon and mate Ois, we decided to head somewhere we’d never been before, and drink a pint to friends injured during Wednesday’s madness.

The Auld Dub

DFallon suggested The Auld Dub, and I agreed, having a mate that works there and being curious as to how the place fares up. The fare was up alright, a pint of Guinness costing €4.85, a good 60c dearer than Brogan’s only five minute walk away. No doubt they sell a good many pints at that price, though we wondered how many half pints of it the floor staff have to pick up at the end of the night. (Its always funny to see someone who has never drank Guinness before order a pint of it, take one taste and then ask for a Heineken instead, not being elitist in the slightest, its more a nod to the advertising power of Diageo; GUINNESS IN IRELAND IS THE BEST THING EVER.)

But anyways, the pub. Suprisingly un-kitsch for a touristy spot, the place looks great inside, a horseshoe bar dominating the interior with a staircase on either side, one up and one down to the (almost spotless, apart fron the “Love United, Hate Glazer” stickers) jacks. Pictures of visitors line the walls, and beside our table, a frame with a dozen or so of the Arthur’s Day beermats from last year takes pride of palce. The pint soured very quickly, I’m not sure why- it wasn’t that we were drinking slowly or anything, but by the time I got to the end of mine, I could have taken it or left it to be honest. So we didn’t stay long and decided to wander down and check out the banners on the Ha’penny and Millenium Bridges instead.

Just as we were getting ready to go, some live music started, a one-man-band idea, one bloke banging away on his guitar, everything from The Virgin Prunes to Green Day to Sting (Roxanne, and a group of what sounded like Swedish blokes seemed delighted, taking the oppurtunity to play the drinking game of the same name.)

Leaving the pub and heading out into the night, we stopped to have a gander at the mystery plaque on the ground outside. Ois had asked the barman if he knew the story behind it but alas, the mystery goes on…

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A Random Drop Inn: Doyles

Credit to flickr user FungeP

This place has always been a sort of unofficial Trinity student bar. It is a favourite post college boozer of the Trinity faithful, or in some cases a favourite between lectures haven. Downstairs is cozy, often quiet and the Guinness good. Upstairs? I’ve not been in a while. The night before Halloween seems as good a night as any to visit.

Am I boring? Far from it I would hope. I’m in the minority here tonight though. All around me I spot costumes, ranging from Dr. House (It’s Not Lupus!) to Super Mario. I’m in my civies, feeling a little left out as even the barmen have made the effort. A signboard behind the bar shows the drink ‘specials’. €4 a Miller? Is that a ‘special’? We’re in a pub remember, not a nightclub. It’s all a bit steep.

The DJ is knocking out 80s and 70s classics for the most part, to a room in which nobody seems to have been born before 1989. One of those all time classics, Safety Dance, has the place shaking.

What a song in fairness. I’ve been patiently waiting for any chance to somehow work that into a Come Here To Me post. I can retire happy now.

Anyway, the DJ. It’s not doing much for me. I’d stop short of ‘doing a Morrissey’ and leading a chorus of Hang The DJ, but it feels like a wedding anniversary in a GAA club and we’re all too young to remember these tunes really. The crowd is very nice and mingle among each other (rare to see these days sadly) and there are no airs and graces about the place, but it doesn’t do much for me. After another Miller, we’re off in a taxi for The Button Factory.

Downstairs remains one of my favourite spots for a cheeky pint, and I can’t conclude this piece without giving a shout out to what have to be among the soundest doormen in Dublin (no airs and graces comes to mind again….), but upstairs feels like a pub attempting to be a nightclub. Stick to the plain downstairs and you’ll be fine.

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A certain northsider gives me hope. The ode to Damien Dempsey on the side of The Good Bits may be gone, but The Good Bits itself seems here to stay. No small achievement in this part of the city, where this premises has become the Dublin pub equivalent of ‘that house on the corner’. People seemed to move in and out of here all the time.

I’ve been here before, a few times. Down in the cave, where the music is thumping and the place is busy. We review pubs on this site, and not nightclubs, so that aspect of the place doesn’t count to us purists. I’m here to see what kind of pub The Good Bits makes. I had planned to include this on my last pub crawl, only to be met by the sight you fear most before your pub crawl departs. A ‘CLOSED’ sign.

Firstly, there is much more than a new name to this place. A lot of thought has gone into the interior. You forget details like this when you’ve been into a packed nightclub, and so you need to see the place again in a new light. I’d popped in Friday briefly to collect something and decided that was my lunch hour sorted for the next day, purely on liking the look of the place.

The lunch offers are good, a nice range of tapas options joined by a few standards. I’m racing the clock so wolf down a steak sambo with a pint, and both get high marks. The staff are bang on, attentive and friendly. My lunch hour consists of me rushing in the door of somewhere and ordering before I’ve sat down, but they’re understanding. The Guinness lives up to the reputation, as a few people had told me it was a good bet during the day. As a rule I don’t order Guinness in any nightclub environment, but to call The Good Bits a nightclub is doing a disservice to its qualities as a pub.

I throw a quick eye about and while the decor is quite minimalist, it works. Despite being here for quite a while now too (I dare say longer than some previous tenants!) the place is not at all showing any wear or tear. As a rule of thumb I never state why we’re looking around a boozer, but a member of staff asks me if I’ve not been before and we strike up a quick conversation on the place and how it has met the challenges of location, being just a tad outside the main ‘night club’ part of town. It looks as fresh as the first I entered it. The crowd during the day seem a good bit older than the night owls unsurprisingly, I get the impression I’m not the only one on a lunch break.

Any complaints? Not really, just get someone to give the front a lick of paint again. The Good Bits Gives Me Hope for Store Street, let’s hope she sticks around.

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Three old images of Dublin that I’ve come across lately online.

Though the pub has now been replaced by a Chinese restaurant, you can still see the lion above the door. c. 1940s/50s?


A view towards Rathmines from Portobello. Early 19th century?

 

 

A rare photograph from the construction of Liberty Hall. c.1962

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The market workers of Dublin and others like them knew a very different city from the average worker in the capital today. Before the first bus even rolls through the suburbs now, these workers were often at the end of their workday. Early house pubs opened their doors from about 7am, and it wasn’t unusual to spot a mix of tired workers and those returning from more enjoyable nights in the capital seizing the opportunity presented for a pint.

Alas, the fruit markets are no more in all truth. The docks are quieter now too. Yet Dublin retains a few early house pubs dotted around the city, and this suggests business remained strong long after the shutters came down on some markets for the last time. Amazingly, I’ve never been to one. A 2008 Irish Times report suggested 15 such pubs remain in the capital. Since 1962, no new pubs have been added to the list. They’re a dying breed.

The Chancery.

The Chancery is located right by the Four Courts. By sheer coincidence, we’re coming to it from the direction of Smithfield, an area much changed since the time the markets flourished there. Beautiful apartment complexes, an art-house cinema and the sort dot Smithfield today. The Cobblestone remains, the horses long gone.

Arriving at the door of The Chancery at the early hour of 8am, the first thing you notice are two bouncers on the door. While at first one can be worried by the sight of a bouncer, on second thoughts it can be reassuring. They keep an eye on proceedings, but there is no trouble in the time we’re here. We pass them on the way in, give ‘the nod’, and with it clear we’re in decent condition on entering the place, we don’t hear/see them again, until ‘the nod’ is given again on the way out.

The pints of Guinness are more than decent, and we remark that it’s interesting they can pull a decent pint here at 8am when we’ve seen ‘one pour pints’ chucked out in fancier boozers across the city on Friday nights. On the subject of Friday nights, there appear to be a few other survivors dotted around this place. The milkman? The market worker? No sign of them but.

The ‘locals’, or the people sitting across the bar talking to the barman and each other, are a mixed bunch. With the sun up, this might as well be 3pm in any Dublin pub. One annoyance that hits you on entering the place however is the jukebox. Is there a need for a jukebox to be blaring music at half eight in the morning?

I’m gonna send him to outer space. To find another race.
I’m gonna send him to outer space. To find another race.

I love the song too, but it’s half eight in the morning. Turn it down, or turn it off. The arrival of The Wild Rover leads one of our party to a semi-audible “for fucks sake…” that thankfully goes unnoticed. Somewhere in the world it’s a suitable time to play this stuff, lets be quiet and drink to them.

The early house is clean, and the pubs layout is perfectly fine. What surprises me is the number of people here. I remember a friend telling me you could never open a Wetherspoons in Ireland because “we can’t be trusted to drink sensibly”. Maybe there’s an element of truth in that. In the time we’re here, with the exception of one eejit and his unwanted and unimpressive rendition of ‘The Boys Of The Old Brigade’, we see nothing too out of the ordinary or worrying. We even remark a return visit in the future isn’t an impossible scenario.

So, who does drink at 8am? A much more varied bunch than I expected. On leaving, we do a quick turn and head towards town, and I spot people getting off the 25A bus for work. Getting on the same bus home, there is a distinct lack of market workers, milkmen or dockers. The Chancery is not going to make its way into any ‘Top 50 Pubs In Dublin’ list, and it’s not brimming with the sort of unique character that does see pubs make such lists, but it’s not the hellish boozer some may think looking down on it from the double-decker bus to work. Judging on the crowd inside it, at a time I wouldn’t normally have risen yet, it’ll be here a while longer yet.

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A few Guinness labels which were hiding in the cupboard right opposite this very PC.

What do I know about them? Very little. Obviously, they come from the period when Guinness was bottled by the seller. Interestingly, three of them read “Who bottle no other stout or porter” or variations thereof.

The beautiful Irish language label from D Ó Sciatháin’s notes the same As Gaeilge.

The P. Lynch label, from 144 Thomas Street, is by far the oldest. T.Younge, at the time based at 85 Queen Street and 1a Ellis Quay, became a Ballyfermot fixture. D Ó Siachtháin gives a Dorset Street address. The other two come from outside the capital.

With the week that’s in it, they’re a lovely oddity if nothing else. A recent post on the Jewish Museum included snaps of Guinness labels from Dublin’s Little Jerusalem.

(more…)

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The Church on Mary Street; a building I’ve walked past twice a day for the last year or so and never managed to set foot in. I’ve always got a feeling that the place would be too hoi- polloi for me, the kind of person who doesn’t mind a shabby interior or lack of dress code once his pint and choice of company are acceptable. While I got the great company and a good pint, I still felt a little out of place, my bad, not the pubs.

The Beautiful interior- from europealacarte.co.uk

Vying with Davy Byrnes for the title of Dublin’s most beautiful interior, the Church, which you’ll be suprised to learn used to be, wait for it… a church, still retains many of it’s old features. While it’s not the kind of place you’d go to to watch a game, or for a casual pint after work- this place is a no runners affair, and with pints at €5.50 (rising to €5.75 after eleven for some reason) you can guess the kind of crowd they’re aiming for. As I said, the place is absolutely stunning both inside and out- even the toilets look fantastic. A large enclosed smoking area with gazebos dotted around for shelter, patio heaters, shrubbery and candles finished off the decor.

I’m trying not to be hard on the place, for while it wasn’t my cup of tea, we had a great night there- two great friends of CHTM were celebrating their wedding vows   (uh oh… does that mean we’re getting older?) and they did so in style. The place is well spread out, and though I’ve heard it gets a little hectic on the ground floor on Friday nights, a mezzanine/ balcony rings the exterior wall of the building, a great place to retreat to if the crowd gets too much below. There’s also a club below, we didn’t venture that far, having found a nice spot outside, we settled ourselves there.

To summarise, it’s a beautiful bar, with a large selection of beers which, while expensive, are thankfully good. It has a great smoking garden, I’d argue and say the best in Dublin for its location. We had a great night in there, (major congrats to J & K) but I’m not sure if I’ll be back. The three trips to the ATM that night put paid to that!

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A Random Drop Inn: Pygmalion

A half price Sunday at Pygmalion/ 59 South William Street.

I am now part of the furniture here.

Amazingly, I spot the same faces every Sunday. Saying that, maybe it’s not that amazing at all. Half-price drinks are exactly what they say on the tin, and by 6pm there is never a seat in the house. Yesterday, a mishmash of heartbroken Dubs, a scattering on grinning Corkonians,city-slickers, hip kids and wise punters who followed the sign outside to half price paradise ignored a rainy Sunday for something better.

Pygmalion is normally a tad expensive for my liking. By a tad, I mean a good bit. A good-sized bottle of lager might cost €2.80 or €3 on a Sunday, so in my head I’m almost thinking ‘imagine that on a Monday’. Sticking to the taps but, and it is an absolute steal.

It seems the place to head to here is actually……outside. Almost every week large chunks of my time here is spent in the smoking area, where I’ve bumped into all sorts of old faces. Coppinger Row is a bit of a nightmare on occasion with beggars, much as I hate to say it. I will, every Sunday, pay the lad with the brass instrument to knock out When The Saints Go Marching In however.

Are there downsides to a pub like this on a Sunday? It doesn’t take a rocket-scientist to work out that you’ll spend quite a lot of time waiting at the bar. It’s a small price to pay. While Pygmalion do a great selection of cocktails (two thumbs up for the Number Five) come late evening the option is more or less gone out the window, a packed bar and super-busy staff basically ruling it out. The staff are friendly, and if you get here early in the day I can’t over-sell the Number Five cocktail, which I’m sure they’ll whip up for you providing the bar doesn’t resemble the waiting line for a famine ship like it can come darkness.

The DJ’s in Pygmalion are well capable of keeping the night going, a mix of classic staples, indie/hip hop of old and new and generally danceable stuff. We can all dance on half price drinks, of course, and some awful gobshitery has been spotted.

South William Street may be the coolest street in the city apparently, but Dublin was never all that cool. This is, of course, a good thing. What is it then? Well, fun. Nowhere is more fun at 11.20pm on a Sunday night than this place. Plus, any tip of the hat in the direction of Shaw is most welcome.

Might see you there on Sunday?

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Not the best of evenings to go for a pint to be honest, with the future of the team I’m about to go shout for hanging severely in the balance. But still, pre- match pints are part of the ritual of going to games, and where better for five supporters to mourn and lament about Bohemian FC than in the heartland of Stoneybatter, half way between the clubs birthplace in the Phoenix Park and its current residence in Phibsboro.

Mulligan's of Stoneybatter, from The Tale of Ale Blog.

Mulligan’s of Stoneybatter is certainly not to be confused with Mulligan’s of Poolbeg Street fame.  Whereas the latter has been discussed about in length around these parts, having one of the best pints in Dublin, you can’t get a pint of Guinness in the former. A pub in Dublin without Guinness? Yes, even though this place is a stone’s throw away from the Guinness brewery, it’s a “brewery pub” in the line of the Porterhouse. And yet what did I stump up for? A pint of… Becks.  All the fancy lagers and stout on show and I went for the drink only there to service the plebians…

Apparently one time the haunt of those who couldn’t get served anywhere else in the locality, the proprietors did well to clean the place up and present drinkers with a nicely laid out bar area, stretching way back with nooks and crannies in which a solitary drinker can hide. The bar staff, well presented in pinstripe aprons and with a colossal knowledge of the wares they ply from behind a bar that harks back to the establishments past as a green grocers store. While the pint of Becks was, admittedly great (icy cold, with a head that kept to the bottom of the glass- something you don’t get much in Dublin pubs…) there was not much the staff could tell me about it. But when one of our Bohs comrades bought a fancy bottle of 7% stout, served to him in what looked like a trifle dish, the barman was able to tell him what temperature it should be stored at and what angle it should be poured at… Mad stuff.

And with that, we were off to witness arguably the worst Bohs game I’ve been to in my time. A 2-0 loss to a Galway Utd. reduced to nine men. I wish I could say the couple of beers stifled the blow, but, as nice as they were, they didn’t!

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The Workman's Club is right next door to The Clarence.

These are brave times to open a pub.

When I heard the site of the old Workman’s Club on the quays was to become the home of a new boozer, I didn’t know what to expect. I’ve always had a soft spot for Workman’s Clubs (The one in Inchicore comes to mind, is it the last on the go?), and have drank in a few ‘across the water’. On the wall by the bar here, an old relic of the Workman’s Club survives, informing members of the need to get the £40 membership in as quickly as possible.

It’s not a wall but, as I thought, but rather a door that opens up to reveal a large stage area, where gigs will soon be taking place (look out for the Hard Working Class Heroes Festival, long-established in the city). Like the bar, the design is minimalist. With the exception of a piano and a few candles, the bar is a straight up tables and chairs affair. I’m happy to see the piano works/

I mistake an old couple in the corner for lost tourists. Rather, they turn out to be old punters of the actual Workman’s Club, and they are full of questions for the bar staff. At our table, the lads are all happy with the Guinness, Ciaran in particular. On first sip, it is unfaultable. The music here is well within the indie school of rock, ranging from Lykke Li to The Clash in the time we’re here.

I venture upstairs. The view looks down over the Liffey, and the upstairs has a design completely unlike that downstairs, opting for a purple look and decorated with art and snaps by Dublin artists and photographers. There’s plenty of room for dancing, and an open window (soon to go, apparently) allows a glance out at what will hopefully become a smoking area. It’s sizable, and you can just peak at Essex Street in Temple Bar from here.

Being a Sunday, we were soon off to Pygmalion for half price drinks, but on first glance this one is a winner. The lovely brick work front of the pub looks great and it’s nice to see one of the buildings in the city I can’t recall seeing used in donkeys years find a purpose. It’s simple, pretty cool without trying too hard and the Guinness (€4.50 a pint) is thumbs up. The music is right up my street, and the place is a welcome addition.

Shame about the neighbours.

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The Garage Bar- Essex Street, Temple Bar.

Amazingly enough, The Plough and the Stars was sold out. I’ve seen it (Review is here, cheeky plug), but young Kevin hasn’t and presumed he could pay on the door. Alas, you can’t. We wander up to The New Theatre, at the back of Connolly Books, where it is more or less the same for The Quare Fellow. “If you call back in twenty minutes, we’ll let you know of any returns”

Twenty minutes seems time enough for a pint.

Alas, the night is gone. We’re not leaving The Garage now. I’ve often walked past this place on the way to work and heard The Clash pumping out and wanted to head in there and then, and sometimes I’ve gone back post-work for a sneaky one with another ‘just off work’ comrade or two. It’s a small spot, but it seems to have someone spinning vinyl (or at least sounding like they’re spinning vinyl) in it over the whole week. It offers a pretty extensive cocktail menu, at least by the standards of this city. The look of the place is unique, a sawdust littered floor not too common in Temple Bar. It has a charm but.

A Black Russian pops over (Not the start of a joke) to the table from behind the bar, they had one over. I don’t want to touch it, a bizarre hybrid on paper consisting of Guinness, vodka and whatever else. Alas, it is surprisingly ok. On a sunny day visit here before this, I abandoned the ‘usual’ (Eh…just a pint thanks) for a few cocktails out the front in the sun with a friend, while Germans ran around us playing Vuvuzelas. Like a few Dublin pubs, it seems outside is the place to be on a busy night here.

Three rounds are ordered in, and each one passes the test. The Guinness is fine, reasonable in Temple Bar at €4.50, and seems popular enough with punters. It’s the music that’d keep you here, and bring you back. It passes the pint test and the music test, and I really like ‘the look’ they’ve gone for,but for some reason they have the tellies on too. Turn ’em off. A very small complaint that.

A quick glance at the watch, and there’s time for one more. By now, The Quare Fellow is long over too. I’m sure Brendan missed a play or two for a drink.

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