Silver Sprung

While generally supporting the effort to create authentic Irish pubs around the globe, I'm a little put off by attempts to create illusions of authenticity in new shopping malls. Unfortunately , McGinty's Public House in downtown Silver Spring, MD is such an example. On the positive side, the establishment pours a decent pint of stout. Since friends who ought to know have suggested for some time that we should give the new pub a go, we arrived with high expectations--perhaps too high.

The best pubs make you feel welcome from the time you walk in the door, and feeling like you're family by the time the evening is over. Afraid McGinty's is found wanting in the hospitality category. We entered from the sidewalk entrance early enough on Saturday night that the place was busy but not overcrowded. The entrance brings you into the pub room on the lower level where you may or may not be greeted by a host or someone from the wait staff. After a brief time, a hostess appeared, took our measure and a quick look around the room, and suggested we should try upstairs, pointing--not leading-- to the staircase.

Expecting to find another host station upstairs, we were not disappointed, unless you consider that after about five minutes we interrupted a busser scurrying by to ask if there was anyone tending the station. A couple minutes more and someone appeared to find us a smallish table in the upstairs dining room.

The decor was somewhat reminiscent of pubs and restaurants we had visited in Ireland, but the beamed suspended ceiling and thatched roof simulation looked like a amateurish attempt to imitate an authentic reproduction.

To make a long story bearable, the drinks were adequate and the food less so. I'm a great fan of lamb and hoped for lamb stew on the evening, but none was to be found. So I tried the grilled lamb chops, which proved to be closer to mutton than lamb.

Suggest you give this one a pass. We won't be back.

An Irish Rose By Any Other Name ...

Another Wednesday night, another pub in another town! This time it's in northern Illinois. My workshop co-leader Meg and I flew into O'Hare this afternoon to put on a marketing workshop in Rockford on Thursday. Neither of us had eaten any lunch before departing Dulles, so we were looking for an early dinner along I-90 between Chicago and Rockford. Before leaving Bethesda, I had googled the Irish pubs in Rockford and had decided on trying the Irish Rose Saloon for a pint later in the evening. Thinking we'd like to get a bite sooner than later, we pulled off the Interstate shortly after departing the airport. However, all the eateries around the exit appeared to be the usual chain restaurants that the Midwest is lousy with these days. As we were looking for something a little funkier with a bit of charm all its own, we determined to push on.

The Irish Rose Saloon is a delightful pub in what appears to be the historic section of Rockford. The restaurant had a good dinnner crowd at six o'clock on a Wednesday night, and the fare was tasty and the presentation attractive. The menu offered variety, but showed more Midwest than Irish in its influence. The beer selection was fairly extensive with a good mix of domestic and import brands, but the Guinness proved a little disappointing--a little too chilled and lacking the creaminess characteristic of a perfect pint. However, the wait staff was friendly and attentive and the overall experience still quite enjoyable.

All in all, everything worked together resulting in a pleasant evening in a friendly pub. And that's all I really asked for!

In search of The Holy Grail

I've been quite remiss in posting since initiating the blog a couple months ago, but tonight's experience is going to change all that, hopefully on a permanent basis.

A couple years back I revisited O'Reilly's Pub on Green Street in North Beach, San Francisco looking to confirm my earlier experience. In all my travels and at least four score and seven pubs, I had yet to find a lamb stew that challenged the reigning champion. As it was a weekday evening, the dining room of the pub was uncrowded. I enjoyed dinner and a few pints at a quiet table in earshot of the only other occupants. I couldn't help but overhear -- actually, I could have probably helped it -- as they discussed the acquisition of an old building near the Civic Center, and plans to restore the building to its former grandeur and open an oyster house.

Although I experienced a few minor pangs of guilt at eavesdropping, I was enjoying the character study presented by their discourse. The age difference between the men created the impression of a younger entrepreneur and his older, more experienced mentor. Because I had already sampled the Oysters O'Reilly on the menu, I suspected that the younger man was the proprietor of the establishment, and that the new venture had at least a reasonable chance for success. Without any pressing engagements for the evening, I ordered the one dessert that I can rarely pass up, the Irish bread pudding with whiskey sauce.

While I finished gorging myself, the conversation ended and the younger man walked his friend to the door. As he passed back by my table, I inquired if he was the proprietor. "Yes, I'm Myles O'Reilly," said he. I introduced myself and explained my quest for the best lamb stew in the country. I told him, "After extensive research, I had to come back and see if yours is still the best -- and it is!" Myles told me that it was his mother's recipe and offered that the secret was the fresh-squeezed orange juice. While he may well have spoken the truth, it occurred to me that the Dublin native may have kissed the Blarney stone a time or two. Some three-quarters of an hour later, I left the pub with a full belly, a pleasant buzz, and a few O'Reilly's souvenirs given me by my new Irish friend. "Ah, take this cap for y'self and a tam for the missus."

All of which brings us to today. Since none of my recent trips have brought me to San Francisco, I have had to follow the development and opening of O'Reilly's Holy Grail vicariously through the websites (http://www.oreillysirish.com/ and lately http://www.oreillysholygrail.com/). I've often longed to attend some of the special occasions and events that their email promotions have advertised. So today I finished the workshop I was leading in the early afternoon, and as is my practice, I jumped on the Web to find a Irish pub for the evening . None of the search results in the East Bay area captured my interest, but I did discover that my hotel was close to the Dublin/Pleasanton BART station. A forty-minute train ride and ten-minute walk brought me to the Holy Grail; that would be the pub, not the chalice. And the Holy Grail it proved to be! While the menu does not feature the regular object of my obsession (i.e., lamb stew), the grilled lamb chops and lamb sausage and cucumber yogurt were incredible. And the featured oysters perfectly complemented the perfect pours of Guinness. I'll have to develop a rating scale for my pub review, but today I found the benchmark against which, at least in the near term, all others will be measured. Congratulations to Myles on his great new restaurant and pub and to Chef Sean Canavan, who has talent rarely found in Irish cuisine. Enough to inspire this errant blogger to get of his bum and get to work. Slainte!

Lamb Stew Pub Review

Lamb Stew Pub Review grew out of a hobby -- perhaps an obsession -- of mine. My work frequently takes me to various cities around the U.S., often arriving the day before a meeting or workshop, and I have to eat somewhere. As I often travel alone, I try to find a place that offers a some simple fare, reasonably-priced beer, maybe a little entertainment and friendly conversation--kind of like what I'd have at home if I were there. Such is the nature of an Irish pub!

So over the last several years, I've taken to collecting Irish pubs. At least one night in each city, I search out a local pub for dinner, a pint of plain, and a couple hours of kicking back. It beats the hell out of reality shows. So where does the lamb stew come in? When herself and I traveled to the ancestral home a few years back, I was alarmed at the sheer number of sheep that clearly appeared to be taking over the island. I pledged then and there that I would do what I could to keep the woolly beasts from overrunning the Guinness-consuming populace. So I've been eating the buggers as fast as I can ever since. Lamb chops, rack of lamb, lamb masala, lamb shank, even gyros! But my preference is traditional lamb stew, often called Irish stew, which some folks make with beef, but no Irishman worth his Jameson's would eat his milk cow.

Well then, to the purpose of this blog. As long as I was going to be in pubs all over the country anyway, I decided to focus my obsession on finding the best lamb stew in the country. Bailey, yo and Britney, yo (teammates in Alligators on a Party Barge) thought I should report on my quest and accompany my findings with pub reviews and photos of the best pubs from my travels. While most material will be original, I'll also use this space to share some great Irish lyrics, poems, toast, and blessings I discover along the way.

So, welcome to the Lamb Stew Pub Review. Slainte!