M.J. Hoban

Just what Westport needed - another pub claiming to serve "elevated" fare. M.J. Hoban's joins the ranks of establishments trying to convince us that putting microgreens on fish and chips somehow transforms pub grub into fine dining. And yet, against my better judgment and years of cultivated cynicism, I find myself returning to this place with alarming frequency.

Let's address the elephant in the room: M.J. Hoban's occupies that annoying sweet spot between casual pub and proper restaurant that usually spells disaster for both concepts. The ground floor maintains its traditional pub soul, while upstairs aspires to white-tablecloth respectability. It's the kind of split personality that typically has me rolling my eyes all the way back to Dublin. But here's the thing - they somehow make it work.

The moment my defenses started to crack came during an impromptu Tuesday lunch. I'd ordered the mussels mostly out of spite, fully expecting to pen a scathing review about yet another Westport establishment butchering seafood. Instead, I found myself mopping up the last drops of the broth with bread I'd initially dismissed as an unnecessary carb. The mussels were plump, perfectly cooked, and the broth... well, let's just say I've had worse in coastal France.

Their fish and chips deserves its own paragraph, if only because it's forced me to eat my words along with every last bite. The batter actually maintains its crunch throughout the meal - a miracle in itself - while the fish inside remains moist without crossing into that unfortunate mushy territory that plagues lesser establishments. And the chips? Hand-cut, twice-fried, and seasoned with what I suspect is a proprietary blend they'll never reveal. Infuriating.

The goat cheese croquettes should be terrible. They're the sort of starter that screams "we're trying too hard to be fancy." Yet there I was, fighting off my dining companion's fork as we squabbled over the last one. The sweet chili chicken wings achieve that elusive balance between heat and flavor that makes you hate yourself for loving something so basic.

What's equally annoying is the staff's genuine warmth. In an era where service often swings between robotic efficiency and forced familiarity, the crew at M.J. Hoban's manages to be professionally friendly without making me want to flee. They know their menu, they know their drinks, and - most importantly - they know when to leave you alone with your Guinness and your thoughts.

Speaking of drinks, the bar program deserves mention. Yes, they pour a proper pint (this is Westport, after all), but they've also assembled a surprisingly competent cocktail list. The wine selection won't win awards, but it's thoughtfully chosen and reasonably priced - words I never thought I'd use to describe a pub's wine list.

The space itself strikes an irritatingly perfect balance between traditional and contemporary. Original features have been preserved without turning the place into a museum piece, while modern touches add comfort without destroying the atmosphere. The upstairs dining room offers views over Westport's rooftops, though I prefer the ground floor's honest pub ambiance.

They take reservations (thank god), accept all major cards (including contactless), and offer both free parking and street parking - though good luck finding a spot on live music nights, which are surprisingly good despite my initial skepticism. They're also mysteriously good at handling both intimate dinners and larger groups without making either feel out of place.

Look, I didn't want to like M.J. Hoban's. Westport has enough decent pubs and restaurants without adding another to the mix. But if you're going to insist on visiting - and based on the consistent crowds, you probably are - you might as well know they serve lunch and dinner daily, do a surprisingly solid weekend brunch, and yes, they're child-friendly without letting the place turn into a creche. They even manage to accommodate vegetarians without making them feel like an afterthought.

Fine. I admit it. M.J. Hoban's has earned its place in Westport's dining scene. Book ahead, particularly for weekend evenings or if you're planning to catch the live music. And if you see a grumpy food writer in the corner begrudgingly enjoying every bite of their seafood chowder, do us both a favor and pretend you didn't notice.