Cú Chulainn's Bar

Just what Westport needed - another Irish pub named after a mythological hero. When I first heard about Cú Chulainn's Bar, I rolled my eyes so hard I nearly sprained an optic nerve. Because obviously, what this charming Mayo town was desperately lacking was yet another establishment serving pints of the black stuff beneath Celtic memorabilia.

But damn it all if this place hasn't wormed its way into my cynical heart like a persistent ear worm you initially hate but eventually find yourself humming in the shower. Located just far enough from Westport's town center to avoid the tourist crush (about a 6-minute wobble, depending on how many pints you've had), Cú Chulainn's Bar has achieved something I thought impossible: authenticity in an age of Instagram-ready "authentic" Irish pubs.

The owners, Adrian and Emer (who I fully intended to dismiss as trying too hard), turn out to be the kind of publicans that remind you why Irish hospitality became famous in the first place. They remember your name, your drink, and somehow make you feel like you're in their living room rather than their business. It's the kind of genuine warmth that can't be faked - believe me, I've seen plenty try.

The Guinness here is, and I hate myself for using this cliché, properly poured. None of that rushed, foam-collapsing nonsense you get at tourist traps. The bartenders here treat each pint like they're crafting the last beer on Earth, and while you might wait an extra minute or two, you'll thank them when that perfectly settled pint arrives. The price point is refreshingly reasonable too - in an era where some places charge cathedral-worthy prices for a mediocre pint, Cú Chulainn's keeps things honest.

Live music nights here are something special, and I write that through gritted teeth because usually, pub music makes me want to commit grievous bodily harm. But there's something about the way they do it at Cú Chulainn's - maybe it's the acoustics, maybe it's the crowd, or maybe it's just that extra shot of whiskey, but the music feels less like a tourist performance and more like you've stumbled into someone's particularly talented family gathering.

The walls are adorned with Celtic memorabilia, which would normally send me running for the hills, but somehow they've managed to curate it in a way that feels more like a natural accumulation of history rather than a themed restaurant designer's fever dream. Each piece seems to have a story, and if you catch Adrian or Emer in a quiet moment, they'll actually tell you one worth hearing.

For sports fans (and I usually avoid sports bars like I avoid my ex), they've managed to create an atmosphere that's enthusiastic without being overwhelming. You can watch the match without feeling like you're in the middle of a riot, which is a delicate balance few establishments achieve.

The payment system is modernized (they accept cards, contactless, and yes, actual money), which shouldn't be noteworthy in 2024 but somehow still is in some Irish pubs. The restrooms are clean - a detail I wouldn't normally mention except that it's surprisingly rare in pubs of this vintage.

Look, I didn't want to like Cú Chulainn's Bar. I really didn't. But like that friend who keeps setting you up on blind dates, Westport knew better than I did. It's the kind of place that makes you cancel your plans to "just stay for one" and end up closing the place down, having learned three new songs, made two new friends, and forgotten whatever it was you were annoyed about when you walked in.

So here's my begrudging advice: If you're in Westport and looking for a pub that hasn't sold its soul to tourism while still being welcoming to visitors, drag yourself to Cú Chulainn's Bar. Just don't blame me when you miss your dinner reservations because you got caught up in a spontaneous singing session or an enlightening conversation with a local about the finer points of hurling. Some places are worth the hangover, and this, I reluctantly admit, is one of them.