The Auld Shillelagh

Just what London needs - another Irish pub claiming to pour the perfect pint of Guinness. The Auld Shillelagh in Stoke Newington is the sort of place that makes me roll my eyes so hard I can see my own cynicism. A narrow, wood-paneled establishment plastered with the expected Irish memorabilia, hurley sticks, and county flags? How delightfully original.

And yet.

There's something infuriatingly authentic about this place that's harder to dismiss than I'd like. Perhaps it's the way the bartenders handle those pints with the kind of reverence usually reserved for holy relics, or how they've managed to maintain that elusive "home away from home" atmosphere without descending into shamrock-festooned parody.

Let's talk about that Guinness, shall we? Because apparently, we must. I've lost count of how many London pubs have proclaimed their stout "just like Dublin," but The Auld Shillelagh might be the first time I've begrudgingly nodded in agreement. The pour is methodical, the settle time respected like a religious observance, and the result... well, let's just say I found myself ordering a second before finishing my first. Not that I'm happy about it.

The space itself is deceptive. From the outside, it looks like the kind of cramped pub where you'd spend the evening with someone else's elbow in your ribs. And while it's true that the front bar can get cozy (read: packed), they've somehow managed to extend the space three times over the years without losing that essential snugness that makes a proper pub proper. The beer garden at the back, complete with a retractable roof, is an unexpected bonus - though good luck claiming a spot on a sunny weekend.

What's particularly irksome is how they've maintained their unpretentious charm while serving some of the most reasonably priced pints in North London. In an era where many establishments seem to think charging West End prices in Zone 2 is perfectly acceptable, The Auld Shillelagh keeps things surprisingly affordable. Though I suppose the lack of food beyond packets of Tayto crisps helps with the overhead.

The live Irish traditional music on weekends should be terrible - these things usually are - but somehow it works. Perhaps it's because the musicians seem to be playing for themselves rather than tourists, or maybe it's just that everything sounds better after a few perfectly poured pints. The sports screening setup is similarly unfussy - GAA matches, rugby, and football shown without the obnoxious multiple-screen assault common to many sports pubs.

Service is another surprising bright spot. The staff manages that rare balance of efficiency and personality, even when the bar is three-deep. They'll even bring your Guinness to your table - a touch of civilized behavior I wasn't expecting in a place where the regulars look like they've been occupying their bar stools since the pub's dairy shop days.

The Church Street location puts it in the heart of Stoke Newington's increasingly gentrified stretch, but The Auld Shillelagh seems gloriously immune to the area's creeping pretension. It's the kind of place where construction workers and creative directors sit elbow to elbow at the bar, neither group looking out of place.

For those seeking it out (and after this review, more of you inevitably will, thus ruining it), you'll find The Auld Shillelagh a short walk from Stoke Newington station. Look for the modest facade and the steady stream of content-looking patrons emerging into the London evening. Just don't all go at once - it's difficult enough already to get a seat at peak times, and I'm still not entirely sure I want to share this place with more people. But I suppose good things, even in London's sprawling pub scene, have a way of getting found out. Just remember who sent you when you're enjoying what might be - and it pains me physically to say this - the best pint of Guinness in London.