Have you ever heard a leprechaun recite a limerick? Neither have I. But I have been to the Irish Pub, which is about as close as I want to get without willingly watching a Michael Flatley performance and eating potatoes for St. Patrick's Day.
Lest you think that I am afflicted by an especially severe case of Gaelophobia, allow me to say that I love Irish people, and the Irish Pub fulfills this great passion of mine. From a nice pint of Guinness to (french) fries (they're made from potatoes, right?), you can get pretty much anything your heart would want from the Emerald Isle.
You can also get a nice plate of nachos. Or, if you so desire, the special meat loaf "Florentine." How these items fit in with the engraved leprechauns on the booths or the the Irish script on the front door sign is lost on me, but the Irish Pub has as comprehensive a bar menu as you are likely to see this side of Dublin.
In fact, there isn't much besides the Guinness and the potatoes which gave their lives to make my french fries that makes the Irish Pub particularly Irish. Instead of Harp on the menu, there was a nice Pabst Blue Ribbon draft. Looking for corned beef and cabbage? You'll have to settle for a "Tuscan" hamburger with mushrooms. Pictures of the Blarney Stone on the wall? Nope, but the flat-screen TVs above the bar could foreseeably be changed from the Eagles to the Fighting Irish.
This was all fine by me. How many times can this Penn senior go to Smokes', New Deck or the Blarney Stone without wanting a change of scenery? The Irish Pub offers that, at a price and in an environment that is competitive with those of any bar on campus.
And you know what? The food wasn't bad either. That Tuscan burger was delicious, the fries that accompanied it perfectly salted. My friend ordered the crab-cake sandwich, not an especially Irish dish or one that most bars would do well, but a meal that he thoroughly enjoyed. And that meat loaf that someone was possessed enough to name "Florentine?" In sandwich form it was just delicious.
As you can tell, I certainly didn't leave the Irish Pub feeling like I was channeling James Joyce or dancing a nice jig. I was full, mildly drunk and only a few dollars more in debt; however, this combination would be appealing to anyone, Irish or not.
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