Cocktail Bar Pubs in Dublin

Just what Dublin needed - another nostalgia-soaked cocktail bar trying to cash in on millennials' desperate attempts to relive their youth. Jackie's showed up on Francis Street like it was doing us all a favor, armed with its 90s memorabilia and carefully cultivated "authentic" vibe. I rolled my eyes so hard I nearly sprained something. And yet. There's something infuriatingly charming about what Jackie's Dublin has managed to pull off. Maybe it's the way they've avoided the typical try-hard aesthetic that plagues most throwback bars. Instead of plastering the walls with obvious Spice Girls posters and Friends references, they've created an atmosphere that feels like stumbling into your coolest friend's basement circa 1995 - if your friend had impeccable taste and a professional cocktail setup. The cocktail program is where my cynical facade first started to crack. Their mixologists (yes, I hate that word too, but here we are) actually know what they're doing. The drinks menu strikes that delicate balance between creative and approachable, with prices that won't force you to raid your retirement fund. In a city where cocktails increasingly cost the same as a small car, Jackie's keeps things relatively reasonable - though don't expect dive bar prices. Let's talk about the music because it's impossible not to. The soundtrack is an education in 90s alternative, hip-hop, and pop that somehow manages to avoid the obvious choices. Yes, you'll hear Nirvana, but it won't be "Smells Like Teen Spirit." The volume stays at that sweet spot where you can still have a conversation without shouting yourself hoarse - a concept apparently foreign to many Dublin venues. The beer selection deserves mention, if only because they've had the sense to put Beamish on tap - a choice that earned them more goodwill than they probably deserve. The outdoor seating, while modest, offers a decent escape when the interior gets crowded, which it invariably does on weekends. The small beer garden out back feels like a secret you've stumbled upon, though good luck finding a seat after 8 PM. Wednesday night bingo has become something of an institution, drawing a crowd that ranges from actual millennials to curious Gen Zers probably studying us like anthropologists. It's hosted with just the right amount of irony, which is to say, very little. The staff actually seems to enjoy it, which makes it significantly less painful than it has any right to be. Speaking of staff, they've managed to assemble a team that strikes the perfect balance between competent and casual. They know their stuff but won't lecture you about the historical significance of your gin choice. Though I do have to dock points for the food situation - or lack thereof. Having to order from next door feels like an unnecessary hassle, especially when plates and utensils become a whole production. The space itself is deceptively well-designed, with enough nooks and crannies to make it feel intimate even when it's packed. The lighting hits that magical sweet spot where everyone looks good but you can still read the menu. It's the kind of place where you plan to stay for one drink and somehow find yourself four hours deep in conversation, wondering where the time went. Parking is, predictably, a nightmare - welcome to Dublin - but the paid street parking nearby is manageable if you're lucky or early enough. They take cards, support contactless payment, and have generally dragged themselves into the 21st century while paradoxically celebrating the end of the 20th. Look, I wanted to hate Jackie's. I really did. But much like the decade it celebrates, it's aged better than expected and knows exactly what it's doing. If you're going to spend an evening wallowing in nostalgia in Dublin, you might as well do it somewhere that takes your money with style and serves you a proper drink in return. Make a reservation if you're planning on visiting Thursday through Saturday - apparently, I'm not the only one who's been reluctantly won over by this place's charms. Just don't blame me when you find yourself humming along to Deep Blue Something at midnight.

When you stumble upon the Gin Palace Dublin, nestled in the heart of Dublin's bustling Temple Bar district, you might think you've accidentally wandered through a time portal into a Victorian-era drinking den. But don't let the brass fixtures and dark wood panels fool you – this isn't your great-grandfather's gin joint. The moment you cross the threshold, you're greeted by what might be the most impressive collection of gin bottles this side of the River Liffey. They gleam like liquid jewels behind the bar, a testament to the establishment's dedication to the juniper-based spirit. But while many Dublin pubs lean heavily on their whiskey credentials, the Gin Palace has carved out its own unique niche in the city's drinking culture. Let's talk about what makes this place special, shall we? For starters, there's the atmosphere – imagine if a Victorian gentleman's club had a love child with a modern gastropub. The result is something altogether charming and slightly eccentric. The space manages to feel both grand and intimate, with cozy nooks perfect for conspiratorial conversations and larger areas where groups can gather for a proper session of gin appreciation. Speaking of gin appreciation, the staff here aren't just bartenders – they're gin evangelists. Take it from someone who once thought gin was just something to mix with tonic: these folks will revolutionize your relationship with the spirit. Their gin tasting flights are like a liquid education, taking you on a journey from traditional London Dry to contemporary botanical wonderlands. And when they start explaining the difference between your Glendalough Rose and your Dingle Gin, you'll actually find yourself nodding along, pretending you knew all along that gin could taste like a summer garden in full bloom. The cocktail menu deserves its own paragraph of praise. Yes, they do a mean G&T (with more tonic options than you knew existed), but it's their signature cocktails that really shine. Each one is crafted with the kind of attention to detail that would make a Swiss watchmaker proud. The Bramble here isn't just a drink – it's a small purple miracle in a glass. But here's something that might surprise you: the Gin Palace Dublin isn't just about the drinks. The food menu is a delightful revelation, offering everything from hearty pub classics to more refined fare. Their roast chicken has achieved near-legendary status among regulars, served on a bed of creamy mash that could make an Irishman weep with joy. And the beetroot and goat cheese salad? It's the kind of dish that makes you forget you're in a gin bar altogether. The pricing hits that sweet spot where you feel like you're treating yourself without needing to remortgage your house. Main courses hover in the €15-20 range, and while premium gins might stretch your wallet a bit further, the standard pours are reasonably priced for central Dublin. Besides, consider it an investment in your gin education. What really sets this place apart from the countless other Dublin drinking establishments is its ability to be multiple things at once. It's sophisticated enough for a business meeting, casual enough for a quick after-work drink, and special enough for a celebration. The Victorian-meets-modern vibe somehow manages to feel both authentic and accessible, like a period drama where you're allowed to wear jeans. Location-wise, you couldn't ask for better. Just a stone's throw from the Ha'penny Bridge, it's central enough to be convenient but just far enough from the main Temple Bar chaos to maintain its dignity. It's the perfect spot to begin your evening, end your evening, or, let's be honest, spend your entire evening. Here's my advice: make the Gin Palace Dublin your next stop when you're in the city. Start with a gin flight to educate your palate, follow it up with that legendary roast chicken, and let the evening unfold at its own pace. Trust me, once you've experienced the magic of this place, you'll find yourself making excuses to return. Just don't blame me when you suddenly become that person who knows way too much about gin botanicals – it happens to the best of us.