Irish pubs. Beer confusion

I remember the first time I went to an Irish Pub. The key purpose of my visit was to taste authentic Irish beer. And I never actually accomplished this. That makes me think that there is something wrong with either me or with Irish Pubs. My entire experience is limited to the two places I’ve been to; as a result I won’t try to make a judgment about all of Ukraine.

So, my first attempt at trying Irish beer had taken place in Kharkov in a “beer restaurant” with the quite unpretentious name of “Irish Pub” (46 Mironositskaya st.). It has an obvious lack of space which is worsened by heavy wooden tables and chairs and loud football fans staring at the TVs. There are only three screens in the entire place and approximately 8 tables inside not counting the bar area which includes some stools. The very first thing I intended to order was the Guinness stout which appeared to be the only Irish brew on the menu, but the waitress with a casual intonation told me they were out of it and I ended up drinking Belgium Hoegaarden instead. It was fine, but the Irish appeal that I initially connected with this place had immediately disappeared.

Neither did I reach my goal in Odessa’s Mick O’Neill’s Pub (www.ipub.com.ua). But at that time the reason was entirely different. They have a nice complete beer menu, including Ukrainian sorts of beer which is wrong, because all of them are much cheaper than the foreign ones. Needless to say, the entire crowd of us turned out to be drinking Ukrainian Chernigivs’ke (http://www.chernigivske.ua/en/) which was no fun for me but I didn’t want to seem snobbish by ordering a different one that was three times more expensive. At least I tasted the Irish breakfast and liked it which may be the only excuse for not carrying out the main purpose of visiting the Irish pub. Of course I’m not counting shots of the distinct Irish whisky “Jameson” brought by someone from home. In general, Mick O’Neill’s is a nice place (except damn Chernigivs’ke) with a perfect location in the middle of Deribasovskaya street, an Irish green interior, checkered blankets, nice guards who are always ready to kick out gypsies, salesmen and beggars (sometimes all of them in one person) trying to sneak under the canopies and a pleasant smiling wait staff (they are still smiling even if you want them to take photo of you).

So here is my conclusion: Irish Pubs and I don’t mix well. And after two fruitless attempts I decided to change my goal for the future. I won’t have any grand expectations and only hope not to end up eating pizza and drinking Cola next time I visit an Irish Pub (by the way someone intended to order pizza in Odessa).

Posted by Helen