The Fourth Corner

Just what Dublin needs - another pub masquerading as a gastropub with delusions of grandeur. The Fourth Corner sits there on its corner, presumably counting the other three, trying desperately to convince passersby it's not just another watering hole in a city already drowning in them. And yet... damn it all if they haven't somehow managed to pull it off.

I arrived determined to hate The Fourth Corner Dublin with the burning passion I reserve for places that dare to serve both craft cocktails and pub grub, certain it would be another mediocre attempt at straddling the line between traditional Irish pub and trendy eatery. The universe, however, seems intent on proving me wrong lately.

First, there's the burger. I ordered it purely to confirm my suspicions about overpriced pub fare, but the kitchen had the audacity to serve something that made me pause mid-bite, questioning my life choices. The patty achieves that mythical sweet spot between properly smashed and still juicy, while the sauce... well, let's just say I'm not proud of how I interrogated the server about its components. They maintained their diplomatic silence, which I grudgingly respect.

The space itself refuses to conform to expectations, much like that one friend who's irritatingly good at everything. During day hours, The Fourth Corner Dublin somehow manages to be both a legitimate workspace and a proper pub, neither identity feeling forced. The natural light floods in through generous windows, and the seating arrangements show actual thought rather than the usual "cram them in like sardines" approach.

Come evening, the place transforms with the kind of effortless shift that makes other venues look like they're trying too hard. The lighting hits that perfect sweet spot between "moody ambiance" and "actually being able to see your food," which shouldn't be remarkable but somehow is in Dublin's dining scene.

The staff operate with a level of competence that's almost suspicious. They're knowledgeable without being pretentious, attentive without hovering, and - most shockingly - seem genuinely happy to be there. I'm still investigating whether they're all actually actors, but until proven otherwise, I'll accept this as reality.

Let's talk about the drinks because they've managed to nail both ends of the spectrum. The Guinness (because yes, of course I tested it) is poured with the kind of reverence and precision that would make your grandfather proud. But then they turn around and craft cocktails that would make any mixology snob nod in approval. The espresso martini, in particular, is annoyingly Instagram-worthy while actually tasting good - a combination I didn't think possible.

They've also embraced the modern necessity of being all things to all people without completely losing their soul in the process. Dog-friendly? Check. Good for groups? Yes, without making solo diners feel like social pariahs. The outdoor seating manages to be pleasant rather than feeling like you're dining in a wind tunnel, which is no small feat in Dublin.

For those keeping score at home, they take all forms of payment (welcome to the 21st century), offer delivery for those days when leaving the house feels like an unreasonable request, and have managed to create an atmosphere that works for both watching sports and having an actual conversation - a paradox I'm still trying to understand.

Here's the truly infuriating part: the pricing is actually reasonable for what you get. Not cheap, mind you - this isn't your local chipper - but you won't need to remortgage your house for dinner and drinks. The value proposition is irritatingly fair, removing even that potential avenue of criticism from my arsenal.

So here I am, a cynical food writer forced to admit that The Fourth Corner Dublin has earned its 4.5-star rating. It's the kind of place that makes you want to keep it secret, but given the crowds already in the know, that ship has sailed. Go ahead, book a table - just don't tell them I sent you. I have a reputation to maintain, and admitting I genuinely enjoy anything goes against my personal brand. But if you happen to see someone in the corner nursing a perfectly crafted cocktail while simultaneously devouring that damned amazing burger, well... I plead the fifth. Or in this case, the fourth.