The menu is not an easy read. One has to be adept in the Irish lingo to breeze thru it. For instance, the appetizers are below the heading A WEE BIT. Cute, yes. I can imagine myself so shitfaced, not wanting to leave, and trying to convince the bartender for a wee bit more tequila.
I had the sandwich. I think it was called a Reuben, an Irish Reuben to be exact. It was a decent sandwich and my side order was cole slaw. Halfway into my meal I discover the condiments, although I'd been eyeballing them from the start. They serve a (Grey Poupon) hot mustard in little inkwell size earthenware. There was two small inkwell containers on my plate and the mustard was obvious even in the dim lighting.
The second inkwell looked like a piece of bread that one picks out of the center of a roll to make space for the meat, lettuce, etc. So, what's going thru my mind as I finish half my sandwich is, why on earth would the chef leave a pinch of plucked bread from my sandwich and leave it in an inkwell? Getting bored with my food, I start to explore with the mustard. Then it all kinda clicks, and I scoop a small portion of horseradish into my sandwich, not expecting it to be so hot. It brought tears to my eyes, but it was delicious.
It's been years since I've had an Irish Coffee. I'd forgotten what they were supposed to taste like. Starbucks should consider getting a liquor license. The waitress is cute and friendly. I think I dreamt about her last night.