The Little Things Count

The Irish aren't exactly known for their subtlety. That pesky potato famine sure did a number on the homeland; the IRA has been known to send a message by car bomb; George Bernard Shaw never met an overwrought turn of phrase he didn't love. Then, of course, there's the whole joke about Irish cuisine -- which could only be dubbed subtle if the word's definition was stretched to mean "bland, lackluster, devoid of integrity."

That line of thinking, though, comes to an abrupt end the moment one heads through the door at McGurk's, Soulard's proudly Irish pub and saloon that has stood as one of the city's good-drink-and-eats institutions since 1974. What makes the place so endlessly inviting, so near-impossible to ever disappoint, is in fact its subtlety -- the way it gets so many of the little things right.

Just as one example, take the ambience. Anyone who's ever caught a Cheers rerun on Nick at Nite knows that a welcoming bar can be constructed from little more than hardwood flooring, oak furnishings and yellowed photos of bare-knuckle boxers on the walls. Yet there's something extra going on at McGurk's, and after some pondering it seems that the all-amber lighting is what does the trick, turning the establishment into a warmer, cozier, almost womblike environment. Notice how the women almost never shuttle off to the bathrooms (which, I regret to report, forsake the comfy décor for a white-tiled, institutional look) to reapply makeup or that even the scraggly bar regulars look more appealing than they really are. Another much-appreciated nuance is the music's volume. Whether live music is played (as it is most nights) or CDs are employed, it's high enough that solo diners and drinkers can absorb themselves in it but not so loud that it impedes conversation.

The service also hits all the right notes: friendly without being overbearing, and attentive to detail. McGurk's bartenders arguably pull the best Guinness in town, serving it a little warmer than do other establishments so that, unlikely as it may sound, the stout goes down like an expertly prepared cup of gourmet coffee. Table service earns kudos for never letting an empty water glass or finished plate sit for more than a full minute.

Most such details probably go unnoticed by the clientele, who come either to get properly fuzzy-brained at the bar at the end of a long day or to stuff their gullets on the extensive lunch and dinner menu. That's as it should be; although the food may go far beyond standard pub fare, folks don't go to places such as McGurk's to get their inner foodie-snob all rankled. And even if they did, they'd have to get pretty nitpicky to find much about which to complain.

You know a kitchen is more than doing its job, for example, when an appetizer plate of chicken wings is served without any dipping sauces and, truly, without any need for them. Just the right spiciness is achieved here, the kind that cartwheels around your mouth but refrains from rushing headstrong up your nasal passages. Blessedly, Wet-Naps also prove superfluous; the wings aren't slathered beyond recognition in barbecue sauce. In short, these are the antithesis of the overproduced wings found in most every sports bar and happy-fun-time restaurant chain, the kind that can actually convert non-wing-lovers.

The two toasted-ravioli plates -- traditional beef with a side of marinara and a spinach-and-artichoke served with spiced honey sauce -- benefit, as the wings do, from a uniform crispiness. This is why the disappointment of the homemade Irish chips -- the only subpar starter on the menu -- comes as such a surprise. Although each chip is limned with that tempting burnt-brown border, some inexplicably wind up with soggy, undercooked middles. Likewise, one chip may come out of the basket with bracing saltiness but the next registers as tasteless. Serving them with malt vinegar would help, as would making them "sliced and fried to order," as the menu claims.

Main course choices incorporate plenty of Irish staples, with a few nods to Continental cuisine and American eats, and are categorized on the menu under "House Specialties," "Sandwiches" and "Dinner Favorites." Trust that the house knows what it's talking about when it says "specialties" -- the homemade Irish stew, for one, soars. Proffered in a bread bowl that ably holds the heat, it can be eaten with a fork or spoon, as stews with perfect consistency should be. The lamb and vegetable ingredients are simmered to the point of splendid softness, and a sprinkling of gorgeous green peas on top (which, remarkably, maintain their firmness in the stew) nicely offset all that brownness.