Mellett's Emporium

Just what Claremorris needed - another pub masquerading as a museum. Or is it a museum masquerading as a pub? Walking into Mellett's Emporium, you'd be forgiven for thinking you've stumbled through some sort of temporal portal where your great-grandfather's attic decided to serve pints.

I'll admit, I approached this establishment with the kind of skepticism usually reserved for politicians' promises and miracle diet pills. The façade of Mellett's Emporium in Claremorris doesn't exactly scream "must-visit destination." But like that one friend who won't shut up about their CrossFit journey, this place has a way of wearing down your resistance.

Let's address the elephant in the room - or rather, the countless elephants, given the sheer volume of antiquities crammed into every nook and cranny. Where most pubs might hang a few token photographs or the obligatory vintage Guinness poster, Mellett's has apparently raided every estate sale in County Mayo. The result should be chaos. It should be overwhelming. It should be tacky. And yet...

It works. God help me, it actually works.

The genius lies in the curation. Each artifact tells a story, from weathered farm implements to yellowed advertisements that make you question everything about 1950s marketing strategies. It's like someone took the concept of Irish pub culture and turned it into a master's thesis in social history - except you can drink while you study.

Speaking of drinking, let's talk about the Guinness. I've had my fair share of mediocre pints masked by dim lighting and tourist enthusiasm, but the pour at Mellett's Emporium is nothing short of pristine. The kind of pint that makes you understand why people write poetry about stout. The staff treats each pour with the reverence usually reserved for performing heart surgery, and the result is a creamy masterpiece that almost justifies the time it takes to achieve the perfect settle.

The live music sessions, when they happen, manage to strike that elusive balance between authentic and accessible. Unlike some venues where traditional music feels more like a performance piece for coach tours, the sessions here evolve organically. Musicians appear to materialize from the woodwork, like musical leprechauns summoned by the promise of good craic and better pints.

The outdoor seating area - a relatively recent addition - provides a welcome respite when the interior becomes too rich with history (or humanity). It's thoughtfully arranged to accommodate both smokers and those who simply need a break from the sensory bombardment inside. Though why you'd want to escape the interior's fascinating time capsule is beyond me.

What really sets Mellett's apart from the countless other Irish pubs claiming "authentic atmosphere" is its ability to serve multiple masters. It's simultaneously a legitimate local's haunt, a tourist attraction that doesn't feel like a tourist trap, and a living museum that happens to serve alcohol. The prices reflect this middle ground - not cheap enough to make you suspicious, not expensive enough to make you resentful.

Parking is mercifully straightforward, with both street spaces and a proper lot nearby. They accept all major forms of payment, though something feels slightly wrong about tapping a contactless card in a place that houses artifacts from before electricity was commonplace.

For sports enthusiasts, the screens are positioned strategically enough to follow the match without turning the place into a sports bar. It's a delicate balance that few establishments manage to achieve, but Mellett's pulls it off with the kind of effortless grace that makes you wonder if they've sold their soul to some particularly accommodating spirits.

Look, I came to Mellett's Emporium in Claremorris prepared to dismiss it as another themed pub trying too hard to capture some mythical notion of "old Ireland." Instead, I found myself repeatedly returning, each visit revealing new details I'd missed before. It's the kind of place that makes you want to cancel your plans and settle in for the evening, preferably in that absurdly cozy reading nook they've somehow conjured between the vintage farm equipment and the bar.

If you must visit one pub in Claremorris (and let's be honest, you probably should), make it Mellett's. Just don't blame me when you find yourself canceling your dinner reservations because you've discovered yet another fascinating corner of this impossibly charming time machine of a pub.