Off and Running--O'Neill's and more

The Shansky family pub crawl began (as a group, at least) at O'Hare, where Emma and I met up with the rest of the clan at the Big Bowl in the international terminal.  My father--who had been researching airport cuisine options for weeks in advance--was so excited about the existence of the Big Bowl, you'd have thought the vacation was ending there.  After several enthusiastic courses--even the waitstaff was confused by his response--we headed off to board and begin our seven-hour flight.

The flight itself was largely uneventful.  One of the few noteworthy events was when my sister Emma was awoken from a nap by frustrated cursing from the row behind us, where my parents were sitting.  My father was searching for something and was pissed at his inability to find it.  My mom was aiding in the search but was equally unsuccessful.  Finally, my sister asked what they were looking for, to which my father angrily replied that he couldn't find his glasses.  It was then that Emma pointed out that the glasses were in fact resting on his nose.  To quote the old man, "That actually happened."

After landing and dropping off our things, we went to meet our very nice--if a little over enthusiastic--Dublin greeter, Gerry.   Gerry was very friendly and helpful, but clearly at a loss for much else to do for the day and seemed to want to join our party permanently.  We finally pried ourselves free and, after a brief break to freshen up, hit our first pub, O'Neill's, which was downstairs from our guest rooms.

O'Neill's was what I think of as a prototypical Irish pub--lots of different little rooms, snugs, a dark wood bar, and a friendly staff (who doubles as the staff for the guest rooms).  We took a spot in a little snug in the back, where we enjoyed some drinks (a delicious Hooker pale ale and some Cork Gin and tonics) and a little conversation before heading to dinner.  While our stay was short, we vowed to go back to chat with the locals a little more and, of course, drink more.

We then headed out to a lovely dinner at a place called The Farm.  After dinner, we wandered around the Trinity neighborhood to find a spot for a post-dinner drink.  After finding our way into a very bustling bar area--think Wrigleyville after a Cubs game--and having my mother narrowly avoid getting puked on, we decided maybe that wasn't the neighborhood for a family drink and headed home.

The next day, after a morning trip out to the Newgrange site (think Ireland's Stonehenge) we came back to the city and headed to The Brazen Head, Dublin's oldest pub.

The Brazen Head lived up to its recommendation.  A great little spot with several different rooms and outdoor spaces, we first took a seat in the dining room for lunch.  We sampled several different beers--Kilkenney Ale, Smithwick's and, of course, some Guinness--and had some lunch.  To be fair, the food was not particularly great, but it got the job done.  Some beef stew and fried Brie provided a good base for the booze to come.  But the real fun started after lunch, when we headed int the bar where the music was in full force.

A group of older guys was sitting in the corner playing traditional Irish music.  Half the room was singing along, and most seemed to know the songs.  Almost everyone was completely wasted, despite the fact that it was only around 4pm.  (Particularly the guy in the pic above with the reindeer hat, who decided the best seat in e house was on the floor in front of the band.)  We made lots of friends, including a group of Scots in town for a bachelor party and more than a few older Irish gents who were smitten with my mom (one of whom indicated that he'd like to "wear her as a hat," but somehow managed to do so in a charming and inoffensive way).  We werre the recipients of several free rounds of drinks.  We were even singing along by the end of our time there, and half the room was sad when we left.   I'd definitely recommend a trip to the Brazen Head if you have e opportunity.