The Porter House

Parliament Street, Dublin 2

The Porter House is a brewpub, that is-- for the benefit of those miscreants who've been asleep in their own vomit for the past ten years-- a public house that makes its grog on the premises. The idea is an American one. Faced with a market glutted with chemical swill-beers like Budweiser and Miller, a few brave American souls took matters into their own hands and started getting into the brewing business themselves. The Porter House was the first such outfit in Dublin. Its rival, Messrs Maguire, has been covered in a previous review.

DIY booze has a long and illustrious history on this island. A tub for the brewing of ale was a standand fixture in the houses of ancient Ireland. In medieval Dublin, it seems the whole population was at it; the aptly named Winetavern Street (long ago demolished into a dual carriageway by the official vandals of Dublin Corporation) boasted over 1,000 brewing and drinking establishments at its height. Nowadays, the art is kept alive mainly by penniless students for whom the lure of a dustbin full of jar for under a tenner proves irresistible... and often extremely dangerous. For bringing back this ancient and noble custom to these shores, for this alone the Porter House deserves some praise. Lesser persons would be happy to pass it nodding approvingly, but we at BeerAndLoathing have to be sure. We have a reputation to uphold, y' understand.

So, past the bouncers-- who are pretty genial by Dublin standards-- and into pub itself. The Porter House is a large pub, three floors high; four if you count the basement where there's a set of toilets and where the fermentation vats are located. Probably not the smartest thing to do, putting the bogs next door to the vats. Less intelligent Web sites might speculate sniggeringly on possible interconnections between the two facilities, but we at BeerAndLoathing are above such juvenile barbs. It smells pleasantly yeasty down there. From the vats, that is, not the toilets. Christ, some people are so immature. The toilets themselves are kept pretty clean, the usual depradations of the "chuckie are law" crowd notwithstanding. For some reason, there seems to be a lot of Basque "chuckie are law" grafitti in here. The global village, wha'?

The décor is pretty standard for a modern Dublin pub: wood, wood, and more wood. To their credit, The Porter House have decided not to hang the place with rusty agricultural implements like most of their contemporaries around town. Instead the walls are decorated with the bottles of various independent brewers from around the world. Which makes a whole load more sense than hanging a fucking horse-drawn baling machine from the ceiling, in my opinion.

The three floors are served by two bars: a big one on the ground floor and a smaller one located on a mezzanine between the first and second floors. Food is also available, which is your standard pub fare (steak, chicken wings, and the like). They also serve oysters and stout, which is something of a traditional combination in Ireland, albeit one this reviewer can take or leave. Prices are about average town and the portions are big. Which is good because you'll need lots of ballast for the beer.

Ah, the beer. First thing to remember: The Porter House only has its own "house" beers on tap. Not unusual for a brew-pub, but some fuckers still don't get it! I always seem to get stuck queueing behind some slack-jawed Tiger cub asking for a "pint of Bud". Christ Almighty, child, the place has only been open four years! Fuck 'em, I say. The management should arrange trap doors in front of the bar. As soon as anyone asks for a pint of Bud, the barman yanks the lever and sends the imbecile plummeting into the vats below. That way they can die having tasted good beer at least once and their decomposing bodies will add a piquancy to the beer we hard drinkers will enjoy. Hell, The Porter House already brews Oyster Stout (that is, stout fortified with oyster juice as opposed to the more conventional stout and oyster combination mentioned previously) and I reckon the oysters are smarter.

Second thing to remember: the beer is good. Now, I'm a stout drinker myself. The Porter House brew three stouts, including the aforementioned Oyster Stout which is a bit of an acquired taste...

Look, I'm sorry, but I just don't get this whole stout and oyster thing. I prefer my beer free of invertebrates, thank you very much. The bit about the trapdoors was a joke. Back to the review.

... but the other two, Plain and Wrasslers, are damn good. As well as their own stuff, The Porter House have a serious selection of bottled beers from around the world.

Third thing to remember: do not drink the Brain Blasta. The Brain Blasta is a very strong red ale. The name is a bad pun; braon blasta is an Irish phrase meaning "tasty drop". Indeed it is a tasty drop, far tastier than a beer that's at least 7% alcohol by volume has any business being. Things get hazy after the second one. It tastes good, but by God will it give you the mother of all hangovers.

Okay, now for some disadvantages. First, this place gets crowded beyond all belief. Even during the day it can be very busy, as it's become something of a tourist fixture. But on Friday and Saturday nights... Christ. "Everywhere in Dublin gets crowded on Friday and Saturdays, Kesey!" say you, and you're right of course, but The Porter House being one of a kind (Yes, there's Messrs. Maguire too and it gets as bad) is worse than most. We're talking Tokyo-subway levels of congestion here; I'm always half-expecting someone to start wig out and start screaming, "Soylent Green is people!" I know the management can't help if their place is popular but there's no way they should let it get as bad as it does. If there was a fire or something, the place would be impossible to evacuate quickly.

The next problem has to do with the "entertainment" laid on. Now, I happen to be something of a hardliner on this; basically, if there's anything louder than a radio giving the GAA scores, I take it as a personal insult. Nothing annoys me more than the "live session" in a pub. I just love having my conversation interrupted by the tuneless caterwaulings of some weirdo-beardo monomaniac on a piano-accordian, don't you? Save it for the tourists and the mentally defective. Regarding the specimens in The Porter House, I have to say to the management: Lads, you may know your beer, but either these guys are related to you or you've been hitting your own sauce too hard. I can think of no other explanations. Jesus, Mary and Joseph, where do you find them? The last time I was in there it was some git on an acoustic guitar playing some sort of grotesque medley of dismal "oldies". And before that it was a spa on a tin whistle who fancied himself the next Tangerine Dream. Then there was that rotten trad band with the amps cranked up to 11 that had the whole upper floor Riverdancing like a herd of drunken cattle... you might think this is funny, you bastards, but I'm a sick man. My nerves aren't able for it, do you hear?

Hey, everybody, we've just finished yet another review that can be summarised, "good beer, shame about the noise and the overcrowding". Fancy that! However, if you can get in the place early, you can stake out your territory before the beer-horde arrives. Order a few plates of chicken wings for the table, then sit back and relax for a night on some of the best beer in Dublin (assuming you can get to the bar past the wall of Bud-seeking troglodytes). With a bit of luck, you can be out of the place before any of the alleged "live entertainment" starts. Follow these simple steps and you will have a very good night.

And remember what I said about the Brain Blasta...