Dry January may be entirely at odds with the rhetoric that we usually espouse here on DublinByPub, but I should start this post by admitting that I’m currently allowing the liver its annual holiday and am in the midst of the much-maligned detox. Dry January itself is never really an easy affair for someone such as myself – generally, the first week or so is fine, but anything thereafter is exponentially more difficult and even more so in 2018 when managing an Instagram account whereby much of the content you encounter is provocative portraits of all things beer, bars and whiskey.

But stereotypically enough there is a silver lining to dry January’s stormy cover and this comes in the form of an unclouded mind which has finally allowed us to get around to composing some posts relating to a couple of our more foggy ventures to boozers in 2017. One such encounter was our maiden voyage to Delaney’s of Smithfield, a visit made on the tail end of a nine pub crawl which in all honesty left Dublin By Pub collectively and comprehensively bolloxed.

Stumbling into this pub we were to find ourselves front of stage for a karaoke extravaganza and having sussed out a ledge we took in the aesthetic of the boozer which was up to our usual standard. A perfectly lit pub, its tones of red and dark woods worked well with contrasting creamier hues. The bar runs the length of the room leaving plenty of room for orders while dividers break up the span and offer some degree of privacy. A large column in the centre of the room demarcates the area of the pub which has more of a lounge vibe given the lower seating and carpet. Overall a fine boozer and two extra bonus points must be awarded for the open fire and the unexpectedly impressive smoking area out the back, the entrance of which is guarded by a suit of armour.

Having retrieved three good pints from the bar the campaign to convince Pintman №3 to reprise his role as Elvis began in earnest. Given the stage of the evening, he didn’t take all that much convincing and before we knew it he was upon the stage swinging his arm with all the vigour that readers of our previous post on Delahunty’s of Dorset St. might recall. His first song of the evening was received well, so much so that he was invited for a second, and that’s where it went a bit pear-shaped. As Pintman №3 eased his way into the bridge of Suspicious Minds his inner Elvis was overtaken by an inner drunken, riot-inciting Jim Morrison, who added a refrain of “Yeah you would Elvis, ya big lying cheating bastard” to the lines ‘You know I’d never lie to you” – a few of the aul lads didn’t look impressed. And as Pintman №3 beckoned to the unimpressed crowd to “c’mon t’fuck” in the empty vocal space of the outro we knew this would be his last song.

Delaney’s is a fine establishment well worthy of a visit, just don’t upset the Elvis purists.

We’ve been thinking for a while now about what we’d say when we penned our thoughts on L Mulligan Grocer. After some discussion, we loosely came to agree that the pub – which is a mainstay of a gentrified Stoneybatter, is one which must first be commended. The reason we commend this pub is down to the fact that its owners have managed to transform an old-school Dublin boozer into a modern gastropub while retaining all the glorious features of said old-school boozer. And judging by the crowd when we arrived on a summer’s afternoon – they’ve managed to make a success of it.

Alas though it’s not all plain sailing as far as this piece goes. I knew there was trouble ahead when we arrived at the pub and found our way to the bar to order. Now there are a few statements that the lads don’t want to hear in the middle of a session, I mean statements that would be deemed less favourable than news of impending nuclear war. Unfortunately, the barman was to utter one of these statements – ‘No Guinness here lads’.

Now anyone familiar with DBP will know the diversity of opinions on crafty options amongst us, me being in favour. But denying the lads a pint of Guinness mid-crawl is akin to substituting a toddler’s lollipop for a plate of sprouts. We propped up the bar and tucked into a few very good, yet controversial pints of Porterhouse stout.

The interior of the pub is A1. Tiled and wood flooring lies underfoot, and an antique scale sits proudly at the end of the bar. The bar, running the considerable length of the pub is flanked with dinner tables and boasts a wide assortment of options on tap and on cask. The space behind is decorated traditionally hosting antique mirrors and a vast selection of whiskey. Where the bar ends the space opens up in volume and in light.

As it would turn out, we didn’t agree on the experience here. L. Mulligan’s, as we did agree, is a fantastic restaurant – the food looked pretty good. But we, seeking the type of rowdy ale house atmosphere we so dearly love weren’t to find it a good suss this time around. And that’s fine. We may head back at a later hour and see if we can find more pub than restaurant next time around.

Being well-watered with pints and reinvigorated from the jolt of life a few new recruits bring to a session, we approached The Glimmer Man hungry for a bit of craic. We hadn’t had much of an experience in the pub we’d been to prior so we needed this pub to light a brighter spark. Arriving into the bar we were met by a group of disapproving locals who greeted us by flinging open a door that they were sat next to. They then kindly informed us that “de lounge’s in there lads”, to which we took umbrage.

We rebutted to their directions with pint-loudened indignation and enquired after them as to why we weren’t worthy of drinking in the bar. Sizing us up their spokesperson decided that a t-shirt one of us had worn on the day was the suitable reason for our disqualification. The t-shirt in question was a WWE t-shirt which read “JUST BRING IT” in bold white font. (We’ve mentioned the genesis of the shirt in our Red Parrot & Delahunty’s posts previously). Anyway, suffice it to say that this T-shirt wasn’t being worn by choice.

As we digested the reason for our disbarment, one of us spotted that another of the locals was wearing a t-shirt which read “Last Night a BJ Saved My Life”. As we all debated the merits of which t-shirt was more ridiculous the two owners of the offending garments decided that a trade was in order. With the swap complete hilarity ensued and peace resumed in the valley once more.

Accepted into the fold, we sat near the locals and tucked into some well-poured pints. The Glimmer Man is a great-looking pub. The Bar’s stained glass windows and high ceilings give the place a refreshingly roomy feel. We found the chairs in the bar to be a bit mismatched to the overall look though.

The lounge is another world altogether. One could spend days wandering around the space taking in all the paraphernalia which litters the pub. Dropping in for a look at Charlie Haughey and Maggie Thatcher hanging out in a bed affixed to the ceiling is nearly reason enough for a visit alone. We’ll definitely be back to have a closer look at the lounge.

The Glimmer Man is one of the highlights of the Stoneybatter drinking scene. Well recommended.

It’s gas the things you pick up when you’re trying to add some substance to these DBP posts. I say this having spent the previous twenty minutes googling what the correct architectural term for that cone-shaped window-box type structure on the corner of the pub in the picture is – all in the hope that I could start this post some sort of semi-intelligent sounding blurb. Anyhow the structure is called a turret and suffice it to say that we haven’t encountered too many of them on our travels before. As we approached Kavanagh’s we wondered whether the interior of the pub would live up to the expectation set by the striking exterior and in the author’s opinion, it most certainly did.

Alike many of the pubs we’ve been posting about lately –Kavanagh’s boasts bespoke wooden panelling. This partitions the bar into two main sections: a smaller snug area beyond the threshold and the larger bar en masse. The generous allocation of window space coupled with the large light-speckled tiles (which some of the lads weren’t too fond of due to their resemblance to those in their secondary school) make the bar a far brighter space than the lounge.

The main talking point of the interior of the pub however was something which was as unique to the Dublin pub experience as the turret on the outside is. A colourful panoramic mural depicting a Spanish-themed matador scene spans the considerably long wall space atop the bar. When enquiring about it we were reliably informed by the barwoman that it (painted by local art students years ago) is thought to depict the tale of an affair if read in one way but can be interpreted in different ways depending on how it’s read. She then went on to tell us how the aforementioned controversial floor tiles matched those in the local church too.

We propped up against the bar in the larger section of the room and found ourselves on the receiving end of three creamy pints. The bar was empty enough but we enjoyed a bit of neighbourly rivalry between a few of the locals one being an Englishman who was taking a bit of a slagging upon a Scottish equalizer in the ongoing World Cup qualifier. Top pub, we’d return in an instant.