Delaney's Smithfield

Just what Dublin needs - another pub claiming to be a proper local's haunt. Delaney's Smithfield sits there on the corner, wearing its weathered facade like a badge of honor, as if being old somehow automatically makes it authentic. I've lost count of how many "traditional Irish pubs" I've been dragged to in this city, each promising some mystical combination of perfect pints and homespun charm.

But damn it all if Delaney's Smithfield hasn't wormed its way into my cynical heart like a persistent fungus. Perhaps it's the way the evening light streams through those Victorian windows, casting warm shadows across the worn wooden floors. Or maybe it's how the barkeeps manage to pull a pint of Guinness that's actually worth writing home about - a feat that's rarer in Dublin than tourists seem to think.

The place has rules, mind you, and they enforce them with all the flexibility of a Victorian schoolmaster. Try rolling in with a large group of rowdy lads, and you'll likely find yourself redirected to one of Smithfield's more accommodating establishments. It's either brilliant crowd control or maddening selectivity, depending on whether you're on the right or wrong side of their arbitrary standards.

For what you're paying though - and it's refreshingly reasonable by Dublin standards - the quality is undeniable. The pints are consistently excellent, served at the proper temperature and with that perfect head that makes Instagram influencers swoon. Yes, I just praised something for being Instagram-worthy. I hate myself a little for that.

The smoking area is surprisingly civilized, unlike the post-apocalyptic wasteland you'll find behind most Dublin pubs. They've actually managed to create an outdoor space where you can hear yourself think, which in this city's pub scene is about as rare as a politician keeping their promises.

Speaking of hearing yourself think, their approach to sports screening is oddly competent. Multiple TVs are clearly marked for different matches, so you won't have to engage in that awkward dance of trying to figure out which screen is showing your game. It's the kind of simple solution that makes you wonder why other pubs haven't caught on.

The clientele is a curious mix of locals who've been drinking here since before the Celtic Tiger was a kitten, and young professionals who've discovered that sometimes the best places aren't the ones with craft cocktails and Edison bulbs. The staff manages this demographic tightrope with surprising grace, though they're not afraid to show the door to anyone who threatens the carefully cultivated atmosphere.

If you're expecting elaborate gastro-pub fare or artisanal anything, you're in the wrong place. Delaney's Smithfield knows what it is - a proper Dublin pub that serves proper pints and doesn't try to be anything else. The coffee is decent enough to nurse a hangover, and they'll serve you a cocktail if you must, but really, why would you?

The location in Smithfield puts it just far enough from the tourist traps to maintain its dignity, but close enough to civilization that you're not embarking on an expedition to get there. The area has gone from sketchy to trendy faster than you can say "gentrification," but Delaney's has managed to maintain its character without becoming a parody of itself.

Look, I didn't want to like Delaney's Smithfield. I walked in ready to dismiss it as just another Dublin pub trading on nostalgia and mediocrity. But here I am, recommending that you give it a chance. Get there early if you want a table, especially on match days. Bring a small enough group that you won't trigger their crowd-control reflexes. And for heaven's sake, order a proper pint - this isn't the place for your fancy craft beer experiments. Sometimes, much to my professional chagrin, the simple things done well are exactly what you need.