The Pines

Just what Dublin needed - another pub calling itself The Pines, as if slapping some evergreen-inspired nomenclature on yet another drinking establishment somehow makes it special. I'll admit, I approached this Dundrum watering hole with the kind of skepticism usually reserved for celebrity cookbook launches and kale smoothie cleanses.

But damn it all if The Pines Dublin hasn't managed to worm its way into my reluctantly expanding list of "places I'd actually return to voluntarily." It's not trying to reinvent the wheel here - just doing the whole pub thing with an annoying level of competence that makes my initial cynicism look, well, a bit foolish.

Let's talk about the food because that's where my defenses first started to crack. The chicken and chorizo pasta shouldn't work - it's the kind of safe menu option that usually screams "we gave up trying." Yet here I am, weeks later, still thinking about how they managed to nail the balance between spicy and creamy. The crème brûlée (yes, a proper pub serving proper crème brûlée) has the kind of perfectly crackling top that makes you feel like a slightly tipsy contestant on MasterChef when you tap it with your spoon.

The space itself is deceptively well-thought-out, with an upstairs function room that's actually functional - imagine that. The main bar area strikes that elusive sweet spot between "cozy enough for a date" and "spacious enough to avoid eavesdropping on the couple having their relationship crisis at the next table." During sports matches, they'll put the game on without turning the whole place into a testosterone-fueled screaming contest. It's almost like they've figured out that people can watch football without recreating the terraces of their youth.

The Guinness - because let's be honest, in Dublin that's the measure of any pub worth its salt - is poured with the kind of care that would make your grandfather nod approvingly. They take the time to let it settle properly, not rushing it like some tourist trap on Temple Bar. The staff manages to be attentive without hovering, friendly without forcing banter, and efficient without making you feel like you're in a fast-food joint.

Their pricing sits in that sweet spot where you don't feel like you're being robbed, but you're not wondering what kind of corners they're cutting to keep costs down. The portions are generous enough that you won't need to stop for a burger on the way home, but not so massive that you feel like you're participating in some kind of food challenge.

The parking situation - usually the bane of Dublin venues - is surprisingly decent, with actual spaces you can use without having to sell a kidney to pay for parking fees or perform complex geometric calculations to squeeze into a spot designed for a motorcycle. They even manage to handle groups without the usual chaos that ensues when more than four people try to dine together in Dublin.

Now, it's not all perfect - because nothing ever is, and I have a reputation to maintain. The menu could be more flexible (would it kill them to let someone put salmon in a vegetable stir-fry?), and the dessert selection sometimes feels like they're playing it a bit too safe. The wheelchair access needs serious attention - it's 2025, for heaven's sake, not 1925.

But here's the truly irritating part: even with these niggles, The Pines Dublin has become one of those places I find myself suggesting when friends ask for recommendations. It's reliable without being boring, comfortable without being stuffy, and modern without trying to be trendy. They've managed to create what so many places attempt and fail at - a proper neighborhood pub that actually serves good food.

Located in the heart of Dundrum, it's become something of a local institution, though it pains me slightly to admit it. If you're in the area and looking for a spot where you can get a decent meal, watch the match, or just enjoy a well-poured pint without having to remortgage your house, you'll want to give The Pines a try. Just don't tell them I sent you - I have a reputation as a curmudgeon to protect, and their genuinely good service and consistently satisfying food are making that increasingly difficult to maintain.