Mc Laughlin’s Pub

Just what Trim needed - another pub with pretensions of grandeur. McLaughlin's Pub in Trim caught my eye mainly because I couldn't avoid it, planted conspicuously in the heart of this medieval Irish town like a bachelor uncle at a christening. Initially, I rolled my eyes at yet another establishment claiming to perfect the holy trinity of Irish hospitality: pints, coffee, and conversation.

But damn them for making me eat (and drink) my words.

The first thing that strikes you about McLaughlin's Pub Trim - besides the inevitable local who'll regale you with tales of that time they served as an extra in "Braveheart" - is the surprising attention to detail. The interior manages that elusive balance between traditional pub comfort and modern cleanliness that so many Irish establishments botch spectacularly. It's as if someone actually gave a damn about both preservation and progress, the audacity of it all.

I arrived determined to find fault with their much-lauded Guinness, ready to pen a scathing critique about how it couldn't possibly compare to that mythical perfect pint I once had in Dublin (that nobody can verify because my phone mysteriously died that night). Instead, I found myself staring at a perfectly settled pint that would make Arthur himself weep with joy. The head was as creamy as a romance novel protagonist's complexion, and the temperature... well, let's just say some relationships could learn from this level of consistency.

The coffee program - because apparently every pub needs one these days - should by all rights be an afterthought. Yet here I am, genuinely annoyed at how good their macchiato is. "Best this side of the Boyne," they say. I hate that they might be right. The baristas actually know the difference between a flat white and a latte, which in rural Ireland is about as common as a sunny day in November.

Live music here doesn't mean some tone-deaf tourist murdering "Galway Girl" for the thousandth time. The sessions are actually... good. There, I said it. The musicians seem to have been selected by someone with functioning ears and a genuine appreciation for traditional Irish music. It's almost as if they respect their craft or something.

The outdoor seating area - because God forbid we don't have one post-pandemic - actually makes sense here. It's thoughtfully arranged, sheltered enough from the Irish weather's mood swings, and offers a view of Trim's historic streetscape that doesn't make you feel like you're dining in a parking lot. They even welcome dogs, which means you can bring your four-legged critic along (usually a better judge of character than most food writers, myself included).

For those concerned about practical matters, they've managed to drag themselves into the 21st century with contactless payments, though they'll still happily take your cash if you're feeling nostalgic. Parking is free, which in today's world feels like finding a four-leaf clover in your garden - unexpected but pleasantly surprising. They've got both lot and street options, so you won't have to perform that peculiarly Irish ritual of circling the block seventeen times while muttering increasingly creative combinations of curses.

The pricing sits squarely in the "I can't really complain but I'll try anyway" category. It's not cheap enough to make you suspicious but not expensive enough to warrant a call to your financial advisor. In other words, it's fair - which might be the most begrudging compliment I've ever given regarding pub pricing.

Look, I came to McLaughlin's Pub in Trim ready to write another piece about how traditional Irish pubs are losing their soul to modernization. Instead, I found an establishment that's managed to walk the tightrope between tradition and progress without falling into the abyss of mediocrity. They've created something that actually works, and I'm almost angry about how much I enjoy it.

If you must (and increasingly, I find myself thinking you must) visit McLaughlin's Pub when you're in Trim, do so with the knowledge that you're supporting an establishment that's making it very difficult for cynics like me to maintain our professional disappointment. Just don't tell them I sent you - I have a reputation to maintain.