Pubs in Dublin

Thunder Road Cafe in Dublin pulses with the vibrant energy of Fleet Street, its neon-lit facade a beacon for both wandering tourists and seasoned locals. The thrumming heart of Temple Bar has known this American-style sanctuary for three decades now, each year adding another layer to its well-worn charm. Like an old vinyl record that still carries perfect sound, it spins out a uniquely Dublin interpretation of stateside comfort. Step inside and the atmosphere wraps around you like a familiar chorus - classic rock memorabilia catches light from industrial fixtures, while leather booths whisper tales of countless celebrations shared within these walls. The space flows with an intuitive rhythm, from intimate corners perfect for hushed conversations to open areas where families spread out with comfortable ease. Exposed brick walls and wooden beams frame a stage where live music transforms evening air into electric possibility. The menu reads like a love letter to American comfort food, but one written with distinctly Irish penmanship. Smash burgers arrive with patties bearing perfect caramelization, each bite a harmonious blend of beef richness and melted cheese sharp enough to cut through the deepest hunger. The house ribs fall from the bone with tender surrender, their sweet-smoky glaze a testament to patience in the kitchen. Here, nachos share table space with Guinness, and somehow it all makes perfect sense. Morning light finds the cafe serving up proper Irish breakfasts alongside fluffy American pancakes drowned in maple syrup. By midday, the lunch crowd flows in and out like a well-conducted orchestra - business people stealing quick bites, friends lingering over shared plates, tourists discovering what locals have known for years. The staff move with practiced grace, their genuine warmth turning first-time visitors into regulars before the meal is through. As evening descends, Thunder Road transforms again. Cocktails emerge from behind the bar with theatrical flair, each one crafted to complement the kitchen's offerings. Families gather around sizzling platters while groups of friends share starters and stories. The space accommodates all comers - from intimate dates in corner booths to boisterous birthday celebrations where desserts arrive with sparklers and song. Children's laughter mingles with classic rock anthems, while the scent of sizzling burgers and fresh-baked cookies creates an invisible thread connecting every table. The outdoor seating area offers a front-row view to Temple Bar's eternal theater, while inside, the private corners and communal spaces strike a perfect balance between energy and intimacy. In a city that's constantly evolving, Thunder Road Cafe in Dublin stands as a testament to the timeless appeal of doing simple things well. Whether you're seeking a family breakfast, a business lunch, or a night out with friends, the door swings open with equal welcome. Join the chorus of voices that have made this Fleet Street fixture their own - there's always room for another verse in Thunder Road's ongoing Dublin song.

Just what Dublin needs - another "authentic" Irish pub selling overpriced pints to starry-eyed tourists clutching their great-grandmother's ancestry results. O'Donoghues Bar in Dublin has all the predictable trappings: weathered wooden floors, walls plastered with sepia-toned photographs, and the requisite Celtic-font signage that practically screams "Take a selfie here!" I rolled my eyes so hard walking in, I nearly sprained an optic nerve. But damn it all if this place didn't make me eat my cynicism faster than a hungry local devours their lunch hour sandwich. The first crack in my jaded armor appeared when the barman pulled my Guinness with the kind of reverence usually reserved for handling ancient manuscripts. He took his time, let it settle, and topped it off with the sort of precision that makes you realize some stereotypes exist for a reason. The thing about O'Donoghues that really gets under your skin - in the most irritatingly pleasant way possible - is how it manages to be exactly what you think a Dublin pub should be while simultaneously surprising you. The traditional music sessions aren't the usual tourist-trap performances where some guy in a green sweater murders "Danny Boy" for the hundredth time that day. No, these are the real deal - impromptu gatherings of musicians who seem to communicate through some mystical combination of head nods and eyebrow raises, creating music that makes you forget you're supposed to be maintaining your critical distance. The crowd is an oddly harmonious mix of locals and visitors, which shouldn't work but somehow does. You'll find yourself squeezed between a Dublin businessman on his lunch break and a wide-eyed tourist from Wisconsin, both equally engrossed in conversation with the bartender about hurling statistics or local politics. It's the kind of place where your planned "quick pint" turns into three hours of chat with strangers who feel like old friends, much to my professional dismay. Let's talk about the building itself, because architects apparently knew a thing or two back in the day. The snug areas offer intimate corners for conversation, while the main bar area has that perfect buzz of activity without descending into chaos. The outdoor seating area - because apparently, we Irish optimistically believe in outdoor dining - is surprisingly well-designed, offering shelter from Dublin's enthusiastically frequent rain showers. The drinks selection is solid, though I'm contractually obligated as a critic to point out that you can find cheaper pints elsewhere in the city. But here's the thing - you're not just paying for the drink, you're paying for the experience, and I hate that I'm actually defending the pricing. The Guinness is exemplary (trust me, I tested it thoroughly, purely for research purposes), and the whiskey selection would make your grandfather weep with joy. If you're peckish, they serve better-than-it-needs-to-be pub grub during lunch hours. Don't expect gastro-pub pretension - this is honest, hearty fare that pairs perfectly with whatever's in your glass. The staff somehow manages to be both efficiently professional and genuinely friendly, which I previously thought was an impossible combination in the hospitality industry. What really sets O'Donoghues apart from the countless other Dublin pubs is its steadfast refusal to become a caricature of itself. Yes, it's historic (The Dubliners started their career here, as every guide book will tell you), but it wears its heritage lightly. It's like that effortlessly cool person who doesn't need to tell you they're cool - they just are. Located just off St. Stephen's Green, O'Donoghues sits in that sweet spot between the tourist trails and local favorites. And while it pains me to admit it, this place deserves every bit of its reputation. So go ahead, join the crowds of people who've made this their Dublin pub of choice. Just don't blame me when you find yourself canceling your afternoon plans because you've been drawn into a spontaneous music session or a fascinating conversation with a local character. Some clichés, it turns out, are worth embracing. Just don't tell anyone I said that - I have a reputation to maintain.

Just what Dublin needed - another sports bar with pretensions of being more than a glorified cave for watching football matches. Murray's Sports Bar in Dublin initially struck me as yet another tourist trap trading on the city's reputation for "authentic" pub experiences. How wrong and grudgingly humbled I would become. Let's address the elephant in the room - yes, it's a sports bar in Temple Bar, that part of Dublin where culture goes to die and stag parties come to be reborn. But Murray's Sports Bar has pulled off something approaching miraculous: it's actually worth your time and money, assuming you can navigate through the sea of selfie-taking tourists outside. The first crack in my cynical armor appeared during a Champions League match. While other Dublin sports bars devolve into sweaty mosh pits of spilled beer and broken dreams, Murray's somehow maintains its dignity. The two-level setup means you can actually breathe while watching the game, a novel concept in Dublin's pub scene. The upstairs area, complete with pool tables that don't wobble like a newborn deer, provides blessed refuge when the downstairs reaches peak festivities. The food - oh, the food. I arrived fully prepared to mock whatever passed for pub grub here, armed with clever quips about microwaved mediocrity. Instead, I found myself grudgingly impressed by their Beef & Guinness Pie, which manages to be both authentic and innovative - words I hate using together, but here we are. The kitchen stays open later than most, a godsend in a city where finding decent food after 7 PM can feel like a quest worthy of Tolkien. Their drink selection deserves mention, if only because they've somehow created a bar that satisfies both the craft beer snobs and the "just give me a proper pint" crowd. The cocktails aren't trying to reinvent the wheel with artisanal ice cubes and locally foraged herbs - they're just well-made drinks served without pretense. The staff actually knows how to pour a proper Guinness, which shouldn't be remarkable in Dublin but somehow is. The live music - usually the death knell of any establishment claiming to be more than a tourist trap - actually works here. No endless loops of "Galway Girl" or "Zombie." Instead, you get legitimate musicians who seem to understand that background music shouldn't require earplugs. It's almost like someone actually thought about the concept of ambiance. What truly sets Murray's apart from the Dublin sports bar masses is its ability to balance multiple personalities without developing a complex. During big matches, it's electric without being chaotic. On quieter evenings, it's comfortable without being comatose. The outdoor seating area provides a front-row seat to Temple Bar's endless parade of characters, while the interior offers shelter from the same. Payment is mercifully modern - they accept cards, contactless, and yes, actual cash for those still living in 1995. The parking situation is typically Dublin (read: challenging), but that's hardly Murray's fault. Besides, if you're driving to a bar in Temple Bar, you've made some questionable life choices already. Here's the truly irritating part - I find myself recommending Murray's Sports Bar to visitors and locals alike. Despite my best efforts to maintain professional disdain, it's become my go-to spot for watching matches or hosting out-of-town guests who want the Dublin pub experience without the Dublin pub clichés. Fine, Murray's Sports Bar in Dublin, you win. You've managed to create something genuinely worthwhile in a part of town better known for separating tourists from their euros. Book a table, especially during major sporting events - just don't tell them I sent you. I have a reputation to maintain.

Just what Dublin needed - another pub with a quirky name and promises of "authentic Irish atmosphere." The Hairy Lemon sounds like something dreamed up by a marketing team who's never set foot in Ireland, yet somehow this place has wormed its way into the fabric of Dublin's drinking scene. I wanted to hate it. I really did. Let's address the elephant in the room - that name. The Hairy Lemon in Dublin sounds like a rejected character from a children's book about misfit fruit. Yet here I am, grudgingly admitting that this Stephen's Street fixture has managed to do what so many try and fail at: create a pub that feels genuinely lived-in rather than manufactured for tourist photos. I first wandered in on a particularly damp Dublin afternoon (redundant, I know), seeking shelter from the eternal drizzle and expecting the usual parade of shamrock-plastered walls and "Kiss Me I'm Irish" merchandise. Instead, I found something that made me pause mid-eye-roll. The interior actually looks like it evolved organically over decades, not like it was assembled from a "Traditional Irish Pub Kit" ordered off Amazon. The staff has mastered that rare art of being simultaneously attentive and completely unbothered by your existence. It's refreshing in an era where servers either hover like anxious helicopters or treat you with the enthusiasm of a DMV employee on a Monday morning. They'll pour your perfectly settled pint of Guinness while maintaining just the right amount of casual disinterest that makes you feel like a regular, even if it's your first visit. Speaking of the food - and I can't believe I'm saying this - it's actually good. Not "good for a pub" or "good if you're three pints in," but legitimately satisfying. The Irish stew doesn't taste like it came from a food service giant's freezer, and the fish and chips aren't just a sad excuse to charge tourists €15 for glorified fish fingers. The loaded bacon fries, in particular, are a stroke of genius that would make any cardiologist weep - both from professional concern and desire. Now, about the ambiance. Yes, there's live music, but mercifully, it's not always "Danny Boy" on repeat. The Hairy Lemon has somehow managed to strike that elusive balance between catering to tourists' expectations and maintaining enough authenticity to keep locals from staging a revolt. The mix of patrons ranges from suited business types to students to curious visitors, all coexisting in what I reluctantly admit is a rather pleasant atmosphere. The prices won't make you feel like you've been pickpocketed in broad daylight, which is increasingly rare in Dublin's city center. You're paying standard pub rates for above-average quality, and while my cynical heart wants to find fault with this, I simply can't. It's actually... fair. There, I said it. They've got all the modern conveniences - they take cards, have decent WiFi, and yes, there are actual functional bathrooms (a luxury in some Dublin establishments). The outdoor seating area isn't just a couple of wobbly tables thrown on the sidewalk as an afterthought, and the indoor spaces manage to feel cozy without crossing into claustrophobic territory. For sports fans (I use that term loosely), they show the matches without turning the place into a screaming carnival of jersey-wearing enthusiasts. It's possible to watch a game without feeling like you're in the middle of a riot, which is more than I can say for some establishments I won't name (you know who you are). Here's the thing about The Hairy Lemon in Dublin - it's not trying to reinvent the wheel. It's not claiming to be the most authentic, the most traditional, or the most anything. It's just a solid pub that happens to do most things right, much to my chagrin as a professional skeptic. So fine, you win, Hairy Lemon. You've earned your place in Dublin's pub landscape. If you find yourself in the city center, fighting the urge to follow the masses to Temple Bar, do yourself a favor and head here instead. Just don't tell them I sent you - I have a reputation to maintain.

Just what Dublin needs - another "alternative" pub trying desperately to prove its cultural credentials. The Bernard Shaw has been drawing crowds of skinny-jean wearing creatives and tourist-trap seekers since it moved to its new Cross Guns Bridge location, and I'll admit, I approached with the enthusiasm of a cat being dragged to a bath. But damn it all if this place hasn't wormed its way into my reluctant affections. The Bernard Shaw Dublin manages to do what so many try and fail at - actually feeling authentic rather than manufactured quirky. The walls are adorned with ever-changing local art that doesn't make you want to roll your eyes (much), and the space somehow maintains that coveted sweet spot between "atmospheric" and "actually being able to hear your companions speak." Let's talk about the beverages because that's why you're really here. The pint-pulling technique would make a Dublin grandfather proud, and the cocktail list strikes that precarious balance between innovative and "oh, please stop trying so hard." They've got a decent wine selection too, though if you're coming to The Bernard Shaw for wine, we need to have a serious conversation about your life choices. The food menu is surprisingly competent, though don't come expecting white-tablecloth refinement. It's pub grub that knows exactly what it is and does it well. The prices won't make you gasp in horror - unusual for Dublin these days - though they're not exactly giving it away either. You're paying for the atmosphere as much as the sustenance, but honestly? It's worth it. What really sets The Bernard Shaw Dublin apart is its chameleon-like ability to transform throughout the day. By day, it's a perfectly respectable spot for a casual lunch or work meeting (yes, people actually do work here, armed with laptops and amusing levels of concentration). As evening approaches, the energy shifts, and the space fills with a mix of after-work regulars, curious tourists, and locals who pretend they're "just popping in" but somehow never leave. The outdoor space deserves special mention, if only because it manages to be functional in Dublin's notoriously fickle weather. They've somehow created an area that's sheltered enough to be useful while still technically qualifying as "outdoor seating." During summer months (all three days of them), it's genuinely pleasant, and during the rest of the year, it's at least amusing to watch smokers pretend they're not freezing. Live music and events are regular features, and unlike many venues where such offerings feel like desperate attempts to seem "cultural," The Bernard Shaw actually curates decent acts. The sound system isn't trying to blow out your eardrums, and the performers generally know which end of their instrument is which - a surprisingly rare combination in Dublin's pub scene. The staff deserve mention, if only because they've mastered that uniquely Irish ability to be simultaneously efficient and charmingly casual. They'll remember your usual order while making it seem like they're not really paying attention at all - a skill that takes years to perfect. And yes, they actually know their stuff when it comes to the drinks menu, rather than just nodding vaguely and hoping you'll stop asking questions. For groups, The Bernard Shaw Dublin offers bookable spaces that don't feel like you're being shunted into the pub equivalent of Siberia. The reservations system actually works (a miracle in itself), and they're surprisingly accommodating for everything from casual meetups to more organized events. Just don't try to book last minute on a Friday evening and then act surprised when they laugh at you. Look, I wanted to hate The Bernard Shaw. I really did. It would have been so easy to dismiss it as just another try-hard venue in a city that's increasingly full of them. But somewhere between the well-pulled pints, the actually-decent food, and the atmosphere that manages to be cool without being insufferable, I found myself becoming a regular. And trust me, no one is more annoyed about this than I am. So fine, The Bernard Shaw Dublin, you win. You've earned your spot in the city's cultural landscape, and yes, I'm recommending you to others - though I'll deny saying any of this if questioned. Book ahead for weekends, bring both your hipster friends and your traditional pub-loving relatives, and prepare to grudgingly admit that sometimes, just sometimes, the popular spots are popular for a reason.

In the heart of Dublin, where cobblestones whisper tales of centuries past, Darkey Kelly's stands as a testament to Irish hospitality, its weathered facade holding stories like a well-worn leather book. The pub's warm glow spills onto Fishamble Street, beckoning visitors into a realm where time seems to move at a gentler pace, governed by the rhythm of clinking glasses and melodic laughter. Step through the heavy wooden door, and Dublin's modern bustle falls away. The interior of Darkey Kelly's wraps around you like a welcome embrace, with walls the color of aged whiskey and timeworn wooden beams that have witnessed countless celebrations. Soft amber lighting catches the edges of brass fixtures, creating pools of golden warmth that dance across the faces of patrons gathered at intimate tables and along the expertly polished bar. The pub unfolds like a collection of connected sanctuaries, each space with its own character yet flowing naturally into the next. In one corner, locals lean in close over pints of perfectly poured Guinness, their conversations a gentle murmur beneath the evening's soundtrack. The main room opens up like a village square, where the heart of Darkey Kelly's beats strongest - a space where traditional Irish music fills the air nightly, transforming strangers into friends as fiddles and bodhráns weave their spell. The menu here is a love letter to Irish cuisine, elevated but never pretentious. Watch as steaming bowls of beef and Guinness stew make their way from kitchen to table, the rich aroma turning heads and inspiring spontaneous orders. The lamb shank falls from the bone with the gentlest persuasion, while the fish and chips arrive with a crackling golden crust that gives way to pearlescent flesh within. These aren't just meals; they're edible heritage, each dish telling its own story of Dublin's culinary traditions. Morning light transforms Darkey Kelly's into a different creature entirely. Breakfast brings locals seeking solace in hearty Irish fare and rich coffee, the quiet clatter of cutlery and morning papers creating a peaceful symphony. By lunch, the energy shifts as nearby office workers and curious tourists mingle over satisfying midday meals, the pub's inclusive atmosphere making everyone feel like a regular. Outside, a small courtyard offers respite for those seeking fresh air or quiet conversation, the Dublin sky framed by ancient walls that have watched the city grow around them. Here, even on busy evenings, you can find a moment of tranquility while still feeling connected to the pub's vibrant energy within. Service at Darkey Kelly's moves with practiced grace - swift when needed, unhurried when appropriate. Staff navigate the space like dancers in a well-choreographed performance, carrying plates and pulling pints with equal parts efficiency and charm. They're keepers of knowledge too, happy to guide you through the menu or share a bit of local lore about the pub's colorful namesake. As evening deepens, the music grows more spirited, and the warmth of community becomes palpable. Strangers share tables, stories flow as freely as the drinks, and the boundary between performer and audience blurs as someone spontaneously joins in with a well-known chorus. This is Darkey Kelly's at its finest - not just a pub in Dublin, but a place where memories take root and flourish. Whether you're seeking a memorable meal, the perfect pint, or simply a slice of authentic Dublin life, Darkey Kelly's offers something that transcends the ordinary pub experience. Come early to secure a table, stay late to soak in the music, and let yourself become part of a story that's been unfolding here for generations. In a city of countless pubs, Darkey Kelly's isn't just another name above a door - it's a living, breathing piece of Dublin's soul, inviting you to add your own chapter to its ever-growing tale.

Let me tell you about The Cobblestone in Dublin - the kind of place that makes you text your friends at midnight saying "DROP EVERYTHING AND GET HERE NOW!" This isn't just another pub in Temple Bar; this is where real Dublin nights become legendary Dublin stories. You know those places that feel like they've absorbed decades of good times into their very walls? That's The Cobblestone. From the moment you step in, you can feel it - this is where Dublin keeps its soul, and trust me, that soul has a fantastic soundtrack. OKAY STOP WHATEVER YOU'RE PLANNING TONIGHT. Because I'm about to tell you about the most authentic Irish music sessions you'll ever experience. Picture this: you're holding a perfectly poured pint, surrounded by locals who actually know what they're talking about, when suddenly the music starts. Not the touristy stuff - we're talking real traditional Irish musicians who just... show up. And play. Because they want to. Because this is their spot. The front bar is where the magic happens. Get there early (trust me on this one) and snag a spot near the musicians. You'll be close enough to see fingers flying over fiddles and flutes, catch the knowing glances between players as they seamlessly switch tunes, and feel the foot-stomping energy that makes you forget what century you're in. Let's talk about the pints because OH. MY. GOODNESS. The Guinness here? It's the kind that makes you realize you've never actually had a proper pint before. And the best part? You're not paying those ridiculous Temple Bar prices. This is honest-to-goodness Dublin drinking at its finest, where your wallet doesn't cry every time you order another round. The staff here? They're like that friend who always knows exactly what you need before you do. They'll guide you to the perfect Irish ale, maybe even let you sample a few, and definitely share some stories that'll make you feel like a local. They've mastered that perfect balance of professional and personal that makes you want to high-five them and name your firstborn after them simultaneously. Here's the insider intel you need: The Cobblestone gets properly packed (because of course it does - greatness can't stay secret forever). Your best bet is to arrive early, especially if there's a session planned. And there's usually a session planned. The sweet spot is around 8:30 PM - early enough to grab a seat, late enough to catch the night as it builds. The crowd here is this amazing mix of locals who've been coming for decades, musicians who just might be famous (but you'd never know it), and visitors smart enough to venture beyond the usual tourist traps. Everyone's welcome, but there's an unspoken rule: respect the music. Try talking over the session, and you'll get "SHUSHED!" faster than you can say "sorry!" Outside, the Smithfield area gives you that real Dublin feeling - the one you came here for. This is where actual Dubliners spend their evenings, where the city keeps its authenticity tucked away from the more commercial spots. The cobblestone streets (yes, they're actually here!) lead you right to the front door, like they're saying "this way to the good times." Listen, I'm going to level with you - The Cobblestone in Dublin isn't just a pub visit, it's a story you'll be telling for years. It's where "just one quick pint" turns into "remember that amazing night when..." It's where you'll hear music that makes your heart do things you didn't know it could, meet people who feel like old friends by closing time, and experience the kind of authentic Irish pub magic that other places can only pretend to offer. Don't even think about leaving Dublin without coming here. Actually, make this your first stop - because once you experience The Cobblestone, everywhere else is just going to be playing catch-up. Your future self will thank you, your friends back home will envy you, and your "Dublin stories" collection will have a proper headline act. Now, what are you waiting for? That perfect pint and those incredible tunes aren't going to experience themselves!

Just what Dublin needed - another "authentic" Irish pub catering to tourists who think shamrocks and "Kiss Me I'm Irish" t-shirts constitute cultural immersion. When I first walked into J.R. Mahon's Public House & Brewery in Dublin's Temple Bar district, I was ready to dismiss it as yet another trap designed to separate visitors from their euros while serving mediocre food and watered-down Guinness. I hate being wrong. The first crack in my cynical armor appeared when I noticed the woodwork. Not the mass-produced "vintage-look" panels you find in chain pubs, but genuine, masterfully crafted architectural details that whispered stories of Dublin's golden age of pub craftsmanship. The bastards actually invested in quality before opening their doors. And then the house-brewed beer arrived. I'd ordered it with the smug certainty that it would prove my point about tourist-trap mediocrity. Instead, I found myself grudgingly admiring the perfect balance of malt and hops, the clean finish, the proper temperature. Who gave them permission to be this competent? The true betrayal came with the food. I'd steeled myself for frozen-then-fried everything, but J.R. Mahon's Dublin kitchen team apparently missed the memo about tourist-district restaurants phoning it in. The Irish stew arrived with tender chunks of lamb that didn't require an act of Parliament to chew through, swimming in a gravy that showed genuine understanding of seasoning. The fish and chips - a dish I've developed a pathological distrust of after too many soggy disappointments - emerged perfectly crisp, the cod fresh enough to make me question my life choices in doubting them. The service, I'm annoyed to report, manages to thread that impossible needle between Irish warmth and actual efficiency. Yes, it can get slow during peak tourist hours - you try managing a full house of Americans trying to trace their great-great-grandmother's cousin's Dublin roots - but the staff maintains their composure with a wit sharp enough to draw blood if they wanted to, yet kind enough to make you feel like a regular even if you're wearing a "Dublin: Drink Up Buttercup" shirt you bought ten minutes ago. Live music here doesn't follow the usual Temple Bar script of "Danny Boy" on endless repeat. The performers actually know their craft, mixing traditional Irish music with enough contemporary touches to keep things interesting without descending into Celtic fusion nightmare territory. And the acoustics - curse them - are actually decent, thanks to that thoughtfully designed interior. The pricing sits squarely in the "you're in Temple Bar, what did you expect?" category, but at least here you're getting something worth the markup. The party platters, which could easily feed a small Irish village, offer surprisingly good value if you're with a group. The house brew costs less than some of the mainstream labels, which feels like a trap but isn't. Let's talk about location. Yes, it's in Temple Bar, Dublin's notorious tourist quarter, but J.R. Mahon's has planted itself just far enough from the epicenter of madness to attract a decent mix of locals and visitors. The outdoor seating provides prime people-watching opportunities, though Dublin's weather typically ensures these spots are more theoretical than practical. I'm contractually obligated as a critic to find something to complain about, so here goes: the place can get packed, especially during peak hours, and the upstairs seating, while offering a nice view, requires navigation skills typically reserved for mountain goats. Also, the bathrooms are up there, so plan your liquid intake accordingly. Look, I didn't want to like J.R. Mahon's Public House & Brewery in Dublin. I wanted to write a scathing review about another soulless addition to the Temple Bar tourist trap collection. Instead, I'm forced to admit that they've created something genuinely worth visiting. Whether you're a visitor seeking an authentic Dublin pub experience or a local in need of a reliable spot for good food and better drinks, you'll find it here. Just don't tell them I sent you - I have a reputation to maintain.

Just what Dublin needed - another airport-adjacent pub trying to serve both weary travelers and locals. Kealy's sits there, smugly convenient to Terminal 2, beckoning with promises of that holy trinity of Irish hospitality: decent pints, hearty food, and a place to rest your jet-lagged bones. I wanted to hate it. I really did. But here's the thing about Kealy's Dublin that gets under your skin - it's actually good. Not "good for an airport pub" good, but legitimately, irritatingly good. The kind of place that makes you question your carefully cultivated cynicism about establishments within a stone's throw of baggage claim. Let's talk about the Guinness first, because we must. It's proper. Perfectly poured, properly settled, with that creamy head that makes you forget you're mere minutes from watching someone's oversized duty-free shopping bag knock over a small child. The pub itself strikes that elusive balance between "traditional Irish" and "we've updated our facilities since 1973." The dark wood gleams without looking artificially aged, and someone clearly understands the importance of clean bathrooms - a detail that shouldn't be remarkable but somehow is. The food menu reads like a greatest hits of pub fare, which initially made me roll my eyes so hard I nearly saw my own brain. But then the seafood chowder arrived, and damn it all if it wasn't better than half the bowls I've had in Howth. Thick without being gluey, loaded with actual seafood rather than just the suggestion of it, and seasoned by someone who understands salt is a ingredient, not a personality trait. The fish and chips deserve their own paragraph, if only because they've managed to make me begrudgingly complimentary. The batter shatters like proper fish and chips should, revealing flaky white fish that's clearly seen a ocean more recently than I've seen my gym membership card. The chips - sorry, "fries" for our American friends - are proper chip-shop style, not those anemic frozen things that plague lesser establishments. What's particularly irksome is how they've managed to keep prices reasonable despite their captive-audience location. Sure, you're not getting Dublin city center bargain-basement prices, but neither are you being charged the "we know you're desperate and have nowhere else to go" airport premium. The portions are generous enough that even my brother-in-law, who apparently has a tapeworm named Steve, manages to leave satisfied. The staff operate with that particularly Irish blend of efficiency and charm that makes you feel simultaneously well-taken-care-of and gently mocked. They'll remember your drink order, direct you to the best table for watching the match, and somehow make it all seem effortless. During busy periods - and there are many - they orchestrate the chaos with the kind of skill that makes you wonder if they've got military training. The venue itself is bigger than it looks from outside, with different areas catering to different needs - proper dining spaces for those wanting a meal, high tables for casual drinks, and that covered outdoor area for smokers and optimistic believers in the Irish weather. There's even a function room upstairs, complete with lift access, though why anyone would plan a function near an airport is beyond my comprehension. But perhaps Kealy's greatest achievement is how it serves both locals and travelers without making either feel like they're in the wrong place. The regulars chat at the bar while families fresh off flights tuck into breakfast, and somehow it all works. The sports are always on, but never dominate. The music is present but doesn't require sign language to conduct a conversation. Look, I didn't want to like Kealy's Dublin. I wanted to write a scathing review about overpriced airport food and tired travelers being taken advantage of. Instead, I'm sitting here recommending you actually plan to arrive at Dublin Airport early enough to stop in, or make the trip even if you're not flying anywhere. Book ahead during peak times - yes, this airport-adjacent pub actually needs booking - and prepare to be annoyingly pleased with your decision. Just don't tell them I sent you. I have a reputation to maintain.

If banks were rated on their ability to serve a perfectly poured Guinness instead of managing money, The Bank on College Green in Dublin would have the highest credit rating in town. This architectural marvel in the heart of Dublin isn't just another pretty facade - it's a masterclass in how to turn a 19th-century banking hall into the kind of place where both locals and tourists find themselves lingering long after their plates are clean. Let's address the elephant in the room - or rather, the massive Victorian-era building that catches your eye the moment you round the corner onto College Green. The former Belfast Bank building stands like a well-dressed gentleman who's aged remarkably well, its limestone exterior hinting at the grandeur within. But unlike your typical stuffy banker's haunt, The Bank on College Green has transformed its imposing architecture into something wonderfully inviting. Step inside, and you'll find yourself slack-jawed at the soaring ceilings, intricate plasterwork, and a bar that makes you wonder if you've accidentally wandered onto a movie set. The original banker's counter now serves as one of Dublin's most impressive bars, where instead of withdrawing cash, you're depositing yourself for an evening of exceptional food and drink. The building's historical features haven't just been preserved; they've been given a second life that would make any preservation architect weep with joy. The menu here is like that friend who studied abroad and came back impossibly sophisticated - traditional Irish cuisine with contemporary European flair. The kitchen team treats local ingredients with the kind of respect usually reserved for rare antiquities. Their seafood chowder could make a mermaid jealous, and the Irish beef dishes are so tender you could cut them with a stern look. For breakfast, their Full Irish isn't just a meal; it's a Dublin morning tradition that puts ordinary fry-ups to shame. Speaking of traditions, the cocktail program deserves its own quarterly earnings report. The bartenders craft drinks with the precision of accountants but the creativity of artists. The gin selection alone would make a botanist blush, and they pour a Guinness with such reverence you'd think each pint was being audited by St. Patrick himself. The wine list is thoughtfully curated, offering options that won't require a mortgage to enjoy. The space itself is a choose-your-own-adventure of dining experiences. The main banking hall, with its stained glass ceiling and mezzanine level, offers the kind of dramatic dining setting that makes every meal feel like a special occasion. For something more intimate, the former manager's office - now a cozy private dining room - lets you plot world domination (or just enjoy your dinner) in sophisticated seclusion. Service here strikes that perfect Dublin balance of professional and personal - staff members who know their stuff but won't bore you with unnecessary formality. They'll guide you through the menu with the kind of genuine enthusiasm that makes you feel like you're getting insider trading tips, minus the legal complications. What's particularly brilliant about The Bank on College Green is how it manages to be several things at once: a serious restaurant for sophisticated diners, a casual spot for a pint and a chat, and a tourist attraction that actually lives up to the hype. The reasonably priced menu means you can enjoy this slice of Dublin history without needing to check your account balance first. The location, right in the heart of Dublin, makes it an ideal spot for pretty much any occasion - business lunches, romantic dinners, tourist pit stops, or just because it's Tuesday and you deserve something special. It's walking distance from Trinity College, making it perfect for impressing visiting academics or celebrating that you're not studying for exams anymore. Here's a pro tip: make a reservation. The Bank on College Green is the kind of place that fills up faster than a savings account paying 10% interest. Come early enough to explore every nook and cranny of this architectural gem, and stay late enough to watch the evening light play through those stunning stained glass windows. Trust me - this is one bank where you'll want to spend as much time as possible.

Looking for the beating heart of Dublin's legendary nightlife? The Porterhouse Temple Bar isn't just another pub in Dublin's cobblestone labyrinth - it's basically the main character in countless "best night ever" stories waiting to happen. This multi-level marvel of merriment has been turning casual evenings into unforgettable adventures since before your coolest friend learned what craft beer even was. Listen, if you've never experienced a proper Irish pub that feels like it was designed by someone who actually understands fun, you're in for a treat. The Porterhouse Temple Bar spreads across THREE GLORIOUS FLOORS of possibilities. Each level has its own vibe, which means you can literally climb the ladder of entertainment as the night progresses. Start civilized on the ground floor, end up dancing to live music two floors up - we've all been there! Speaking of live music - HOLY MOLY, the atmosphere here! Picture this: you're sipping on one of their mind-bending craft beers (they have ones that taste like actual fruit salad, I kid you not), the band kicks in with that perfect mix of traditional Irish tunes and modern hits, and suddenly you're best friends with everyone within a five-foot radius. That's just a regular Tuesday at the Porterhouse Temple Bar, folks. Let's talk about their beer selection because it's actually insane. They've got everything from "I'm feeling fancy" craft creations to "comfort me with tradition" classics. Their Guinness pour is so perfect it should be in a museum, and their own craft brews? *chef's kiss* The passion fruit beer will make you question everything you thought you knew about beverages. And don't even get me started on their cocktail game - these bartenders are basically liquid artists. But wait, there's food! And not just any pub grub - we're talking proper, Instagram-worthy, "I can't believe this came from a pub" food. The classic beef burger will make you emotional, and their bang bang chicken should be illegal in at least three countries. Even their veggie options are so good they'll have carnivores questioning their life choices. Here's some insider intel: hit up the Porterhouse Temple Bar around 7pm if you want to snag the perfect spot. The second floor has these amazing windows where you can people-watch over Temple Bar while feeling like Dublin royalty. And if you're coming with a crew (which you absolutely should), book ahead - this place fills up faster than your phone storage at a concert. Dog parents, rejoice! Your four-legged friend is welcome here, making it the perfect pit stop during your Dublin adventures. And yes, they take cards, so no need to hit the ATM first. Though fair warning - once you're inside, you might need to set a spending alarm because time does weird things when you're having this much fun. The Porterhouse Temple Bar sits right in Dublin's famous Temple Bar district, but don't let that make you think it's just another tourist trap. This place is where locals actually hang out, which is basically the highest praise any pub can get. You'll find yourself sandwiched between Dublin natives, wide-eyed travelers, and that one group that started their pub crawl three pubs ago - and somehow, it all works perfectly. Look, I'm not saying you HAVE to visit the Porterhouse Temple Bar while you're in Dublin... but if you don't, you're basically telling future you that you hate good times and amazing stories. This isn't just a pub - it's where memories are made, friendships are forged, and "just one quick drink" turns into "wait, is that the sun coming up?" Don't be the person who misses out - get yourself to the Porterhouse Temple Bar and thank me later!

Perched high in the Dublin Mountains like some mythical Celtic fortress, Johnnie Fox's Pub isn't just another Dublin watering hole - it's Ireland's highest pub and quite possibly its most legendary. When locals tell you it's been serving pints since 1798, they're not spinning tales; this historic pub has been pouring perfect Guinness and hosting impromptu music sessions since before most of Dublin's landmarks were even built. Getting to Johnnie Fox's feels like you're in on a fantastic secret. The winding mountain roads through the village of Glencullen might make you wonder if you've taken a wrong turn, but that's half the charm. When you finally spot the whitewashed walls and that iconic green facade, you'll understand why generations of Dubliners have made the pilgrimage to this mountain hideaway. It's like stumbling upon a portal to old Ireland, complete with peat fires and performers who seem to have music running through their veins. The moment you cross the threshold, you're enveloped in what can only be described as organized chaos of the most delightful kind. Every square inch of wall and ceiling space is decorated with authentic memorabilia - ancient farm tools, vintage photographs, forgotten road signs, and enough antique kettles to start a small museum. But unlike some tourist traps that feel staged, every piece in Johnnie Fox's tells a genuine story of Irish life. That rusty bicycle hanging above the bar? A local swears his grandfather rode it to the pub every Saturday for thirty years. The air here is thick with the kind of atmosphere you can't manufacture. It's a heady mix of turf smoke, hearty food, and the sweet notes of Irish whiskey. On any given night, the sound of clinking glasses mingles with spontaneous bursts of traditional music. The pub's famous "Hooley Night" dinner and dance shows are the stuff of legend, where traditional Irish dancers defy gravity while you tuck into seafood fresh from Dublin Bay or their renowned beef and Guinness pie. Speaking of food, let's talk about what's coming out of that kitchen. The menu strikes that perfect balance between traditional pub fare and modern Irish cuisine. Their seafood chowder is the kind that ruins you for all other chowders - creamy, packed with fresh fish, and served with brown bread that's worth the journey alone. The portions are generous without being ridiculous, and the prices won't make your wallet weep - you're paying for quality rather than pretense here. The staff move through the crowds with the kind of effortless efficiency that comes from decades of practice. They'll remember your drink order after telling it to them once, share the history behind that mysterious artifact above your head, and somehow make you feel like you're a regular even if it's your first visit. It's the kind of service that makes you understand why this pub has survived and thrived for over two centuries. What really sets Johnnie Fox's apart is how it manages to be both a tourist destination and a legitimate local haunt. On any given evening, you might find yourself sharing a table with Dublin natives who've been coming here for decades, tourists from Tokyo experiencing their first Irish coffee, and maybe even a celebrity or two (the pub's guest book reads like a who's who of international visitors). The outdoor seating area - they call it the garden, but it's more like an elevated terrace with a view that'll make your Instagram followers weep - offers a perspective of Dublin that few get to experience. On clear days, you can see all the way to the Irish Sea, making it the perfect spot for a summer evening pint or a warming Irish coffee when the mountain air gets nippy. Here's a tip from someone who's learned the hard way: book ahead for the Hooley shows, especially in summer. And while the pub is famous for its evening atmosphere, lunch here is something of a hidden gem. The crowds are thinner, the light streaming through the windows illuminates all the historical treasures, and you can really take your time exploring every nook and cranny of this remarkable place. Don't make the mistake of treating Johnnie Fox's as just another stop on your Dublin itinerary. This isn't a place you rush through for a quick pint and a photo. Block out an evening, make that reservation, and let yourself be swept up in an experience that's been perfected over 225 years. Whether you're a visitor to Dublin or a local who's somehow never made the trip up the mountain, Johnnie Fox's isn't just a pub - it's a piece of living history that serves a mean pint and an even better story.