McCawleys

Just when you think you've seen every possible permutation of the Irish pub, McCawleys in Athlone comes along and makes you question your carefully cultivated cynicism. Tucked away like a stubborn secret the locals would rather keep to themselves, this establishment has the audacity to be both a pub and an undertaker's – because apparently in Ireland, you can handle both ends of life's great celebration with equal aplomb.

I'll admit, I approached McCawleys with the same weary resignation I reserve for most small-town pubs claiming "authentic character." Generally, that's code for sticky floors and tales of past glory that grow taller with each pint. But something happened when I crossed that threshold – something that made my jaded heart skip a beat.

Let's talk about the whiskey selection, shall we? While other pubs might boast about their dozen or so options, McCawleys quietly maintains a collection that would make a Scotsman weep into his kilt. It's not about showing off; it's about knowing exactly what they're doing and doing it well. The kind of confidence that comes from generations of pouring the perfect dram.

The Guinness – oh, the Guinness. I've had my fair share of pints across Ireland, from Dublin's tourist traps to Kerry's hidden gems, but there's something about the pour at McCawleys that makes you wonder if they've struck some unholy bargain with St. James's Gate. Each pint arrives with the kind of pristine head that would make a master brewer blush with pride.

The space itself defies easy categorization, much like that one friend who somehow makes every social situation work. There's the main bar area, where locals gather with the easy familiarity of family (minus the awkward holiday dinner conversations). Then there's the lounge, where you can sink into comfortable seats that have clearly heard thousands of stories – though they're keeping mum about the best ones.

What truly sets McCawleys apart is its peculiar dual nature. Where else can you discuss funeral arrangements while enjoying a perfectly poured pint? It's so quintessentially Irish that it almost seems like a setup for a joke, except it's been working this way for longer than most of us have been alive. There's something oddly comforting about a place that can handle both life's celebrations and its endings with equal grace.

The staff operate with that rare combination of efficiency and warmth that makes you feel like you've been coming here for years, even on your first visit. They'll remember your drink preference after one order and somehow know when you need a sympathetic ear or blessed silence. It's a skill that can't be taught in any hospitality course.

The grocery section – yes, there's a grocery section – adds another layer to this magnificent oddity. Need some tea bags with your tipple? They've got you covered. It's the kind of practical thinking that made Irish pubs the community centers they were always meant to be.

For those concerned about modern conveniences, they've managed to incorporate contactless payments without sacrificing an ounce of traditional charm. The free street parking outside means you won't have to trek halfway across Athlone just to enjoy a drink, though the walk might do you good after a few hours here.

Look, I didn't want to like McCawleys. Places this genuine make it harder to maintain my carefully cultivated skepticism about the state of modern pubs. But here I am, recommending that you make your way to this corner of Athlone post-haste. Whether you're a whiskey aficionado, a Guinness purist, or simply someone who appreciates establishments that understand their role in the community's fabric, McCawleys delivers with an understated excellence that's becoming increasingly rare.

Just don't blame me when you find yourself becoming a regular. Some places have a gravity all their own, and McCawleys in Athlone has enough pull to keep both the living and the dead coming back for more. Though preferably in that order.