The facade of this boozer on the traffic-filled Leeson Street seems more suited to a village in the countryside than a happening strip in a great metropolis. The Toby jugs, tankards and other pub knick-knacks displayed in the windows are a welcome distraction from the choking, noisy cars that clog this artery into the city.
Inside, the theme continues. The ceiling in the bar is quite low as is the light, so the mishmash of Dublin street signs, old maps and honky-tonk American license plates are hard to miss. The wooden décor will not meet everyone’s idea of cosy but this pub’s fairly petit portions and easygoing feel more than make up for it. It has to be said that the staff are spot-on and throughout our stay they were as cool as the Fonz (and thankfully less greasy). This is a classic on the post-work pinting circuit and we speculate that on a Saturday night it’s a little quieter. The evening we go in it’s fairly lively and unsurprisingly, it’s full of relieved workers with ‘thank feck it’s Friday’ etched across their faces. Suits and skirts in their late twenties and early thirties is what you can expect to see in here; the types who may well end up heading on up to Harcourt Street or a club on what remains of The Strip.
For those who might need some sustenance, a sign behind the bar humorously challenges them to “try [the] delicious sandwiches, nobody likes a coward”. But should you wish to solely imbibe the local tipple, it’s as smooth and creamy as anywhere else nearby.
Don’t be too surprised if you see an array of musical instruments neatly stacked in corners around the place. This is where the stage crew and performers from the nearby National Concert Hall come after a performance. And why wouldn’t they? Hourican’s hits all the right notes.
Blog & News