Dispatches from Dublin: The Search for the Best Pints in the Emerald Isle

“Every Irish village has four things,” Tommy, our tour guide through the Burren and to the Cliffs of Moher, informed us. “A general store, a school, a church, and a pub.” And throughout this island of pubs, one beer has flowed steadily for hundreds of years: the Guinness stout.

The lads and I used our spring break to acquaint ourselves with Ireland’s prodigious cultural icon. Throughout the past week, we eagerly sampled Guinnesses across Ireland in search of the finest pint the island had to offer.

Two criteria guided our search: creamers and craic.

More specifically, I’m talking about absolute creamers.[1] What are absolute creamers? Well, they’re just a fine pint. In a technical sense, an absolute creamer requires several things. It needs a thick head that does not reach below the tip of the harp on the glass,  gently domes above the surface of the glass, and leaves a consistent lacing down the side of the glass. It must be perfectly chilled. So too must it have balanced, roasted, and malty tasting notes, but it must not be too bitter. But why bring so much science into this inquiry? One of the lad’s suggested a simpler heuristic: “an absolute creamer tastes like I’m going to need another.”

What’s craic? The craic cannot really be described, only experienced. It’s that feeling you get having a couple pints at the pub on a Friday evening with the lads, the band is thumping in the back, and the barkeep’s already resting the first pour of your next round.

Over the course of the week, we traveled from Cork to Galway to Dublin, with intermediate stops in smaller villages along the way. What follows are our comprehensive (yet not complete) field notes on our search for the best pints in the Emerald Isle.

Source: Author

Cork

Sin é

Sin é poured absolute creamers, and they had the craic. Hands down the most consistent pints we had in Cork. Even more impressive was that Sin é poured both Guinness and Cork’s own Beamish stouts and delivered absolute creamers of both. Sin é is also known for its daily live trad music, and the bands each night settled down at a table around the corner of the bar in this tight and cozy establishment. Frames and international currencies (but mostly USD) adorned the walls and ceiling throughout the pub, leaving little treasures to be found for the wandering eye. This cozy pub had mysteries to uncover, and each pint carried you along this journey.

Dwyers

Dwyers may not always pour creamers, but they did that Monday night we were there. And Dwyers may not always have the particular brand of craic we had that night, but we were picking up whatever type of craic they were putting down. I presume that Dwyers carries a different energy on weekends than on the Monday night we were there—there were a few more rooms and bars not even open that night—but they were pouring creamers (and apparently some good cocktails, too) and the sole musician sounded off hit after hit, winning these Americans over. Unfortunately, he would not let us tip him nor even tell us his name. But if these pages of the Law Weekly ever make it across the pond into his lap, I want him to know that he killed it.

The Old Oak

The Old Oak poured a decent pint, but trying to compare it to others on this list would be a fool’s errand because we went on karaoke night. It is actually unclear whether every night was karaoke night, but in any event, this was not ordinary craic. As far as karaoke goes, this was just so-so. But we did whip up the crowd with “Take Me Home, Country Roads,” and good fun was had—whether it was craic or not.

The Oval

The Oval poured a good pint, but this pub was just a stop along the way to better craic that night. Perhaps the craic was sullied by the two UVA undergrads who, by chance, sat next to us and talked about law things. But the locals seemed to be having a good time. Give The Oval another chance, and maybe you’ll be blessed with a creamer and some good craic.

Galway

The Bunch of Grapes

Unexpectedly, perhaps the best pint we had in Ireland, period. This pint was an absolute creamer. You know you have a good pint when consistent lacing coats the entire glass when you finish, telling a story of each indulgent gulp of stout. We were there late afternoon, and the craic matched that energy accordingly. The wood-burning fireplace kept the pub cozy and warm for a midday respite from traveling.

Monroe’s Tavern

Monroe’s also surprised us with its creamers. We stopped in mostly because we passed by the pub at the exact moment the group started to get hungry, and it looked like they served decent pub food (they did). Monroe’s probably did not quite have the craic, but this can be forgiven because (1) they succeeded on the strength of their pints alone, and (2) we were only there for a quick bite to eat, and it seems like Monroe’s is otherwise known for its daily live music that starts up later in the evening. Monroe’s deserves another visit.

Crane Bar

Sometimes Ireland meets you where you are at (see The Quays below), but sometimes you have to meet Ireland where it’s at. The Crane Bar felt like the latter. It is another pub known for its live trad music, but apparently Tuesday nights at Crane Bar are for a type of youth society: Musicians under the age of ~24 probably outnumbered patrons at the pub. So was there craic? Most definitely. It just seemed like it wasn’t the craic for us that night—I think we stuck out as the Americans. But in any case, they served a decent pint and are also worth another visit.

The Quays

Good pints and good craic, but admittedly more of a flavor of tourist craic. But then again, we were tourists. The pints may have been creamers, although certainly not absolute creamers. And the live band sounded one American hit after another for an apparently very American crowd. If you want a good time, stop by The Quays. If you want that authentic craic, The Quays may not be the place for you.

The King’s Head

Another pub with good pints and good craic. The group disagreed on just how good, but consensus is that this is at the very least a good pub to visit. Again, they have live bands every night, and the establishment is steeped in history. As tour guide Tommy informed us, the pub originally satisfied a payment to a Galway man recruited to execute King Charles I in 1649 after the Executioner for the City of London refused. Although, as Tommy himself qualified, “Tommy doesn’t lie, but he may stretch the truth.” And the truth of the exact chain of events may be more complicated than the traditional legend suggests. In conclusion: not the best pint in town and not the worst, but the King’s Head makes for a fun visit, nonetheless.

Taafes

Taafes flirted with the line of absolute creamer, but the craic was probably mid. Taafes was by no stretch a bad pub, which is instructive. Even deep down this list, there is not much bad to say about any of these pubs. Maybe we are just discerning pub crawlers, or maybe Galway’s pub scene is just that good. The truth is probably the latter, but I’d like to think it is somewhere in the middle.

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Dublin

Gravediggers

Some people online say Gravediggers is the cream of the crop of Guinness pints in Ireland. A tauntingly alluring reputation, worth the long journey to North Dublin. But in reality our pint(s) were disappointing considering this reputation. A bit too bitter to be an absolute creamer, but they did leave an impeccable lacing that endears me to any pint. And beyond the pint itself, the craic in Gravediggers was real. Perhaps we went at a good time—we caught that Friday evening, post-work, local crowd. Perhaps the craic is good all the time. Who’s to say? All I know is that it felt like a proper pub to begin our last night in Dublin, and our last night in Ireland.

Bad Bob’s

The biggest satisfaction we could imagine by the end of our trip was to be able to not just merely hope for the craic, but to go out and find the craic. On our first night in Dublin, we struck out at the first couple of planned pubs on account of the Welsh rugby fans invading the town in advance of a match against Ireland the next night. Impromptu, we needed a plan B. Enter: Bad Bob’s with its good pints and top-tier craic. We owe much of that craic to the sole musician that night whipping up the crowd with gritty and bluesy covers of hits from throughout the decades and from both sides of the Atlantic. We think his name was Jamie. It would be worthwhile to go back and try to find him, because as far as I am concerned, wherever he may be, so too will the craic be found.

O'Donoghues Bar

How disappointing. My final pint in Ireland was undoubtedly the worst. I was getting strange dark cherry (?) notes, not the typical roasted malt and coffee/chocolate notes I had by then become adept at detecting. Perhaps most offensive to me: no lacing down the glass to be found. To be sure, we went on a busy Friday night and could only find space on the second floor, distanced from the trad music played at the bar below. I will not hold that against the pub. But the poor pint was just a disappointment. Perhaps this is just a metaphor, though. My first proper trip to Ireland left me thirsty to come back for more.

[1] Credit goes to Prime Mutton, one of YouTube’s most beloved beer drinkers.