So I was waiting for my date at Matt Murphy’s Pub in Brookline … standing at the bar … I had to stand, there weren’t any barstools. Even if there were barstools, there wouldn’t have been any room for them. I didn’t see any beer taps so I assumed they served bottled beer. I asked the bartender what bottled beers they carried. In a comically over-done Irish accent he tells me they don’t have bottled beers and tossed me the menu with draft beers on the back. Hey, I know Irish folks. I’m part Irish. This guy’s Irish accent was way over the top. I mean, yeah, he could possibly actually be from Ireland, but he was trying real hard to make sure I heard his outrageous, yet slightly smug accent. I wanted to say, “Tanks, laddie … just git me a fookin bear and stay away from me lucky charms! Jaysus!” … but all I said was that I’d like a Newcastle.

Anyhoo … as I began to sip my suds I thumbed through the pile of newspaper at the end of the bar. I picked up a page and started to read an article about cooking with a broiler by Mark Bittman. I own a cookbook by Mark Bittman titled How to Cook Everything. It’s one of the best cookbooks I own and I highly recommend everyone in the world to buy it. The article was a excellent read. Low and behold, I was reading the the cover of the Dining & Wine section of the New York Times. Now I’ve pretty much given up hope that the New York Times would ever be a paper worth reading. I mean this is a place that actually pays Paul Krugman to write editorials. Sheesh! Over the past several years I have been convinced that the New York Times is a place with boundless hypocrisy … severely lacking in journalistic integrity, ethics, accuracy, quality and style. I let my hard-nosed attitude towards the paper neglect the Dining & Wine section. I wish I hadn’t. I’m glad I’m back. I went ahead and added the NYT Dining & Wine section to the links on the right and I’ll be perusing through it as often as I am able. Hell, I even linked to the Boston Globe’s food section as well. I’ve largely ignored the Boston Globe since they are owned by the New York Times. Two peas in a pod as they say in Tibet. What makes me sick is the fact that via the Boston Globe, the New York Times also owns a piece of the Boston Red Sox and NESN.

Just as I finished reading the article, my date shows up. Let’s call her Dimples. She orders a Guinness. Nice! The smug extra-Irish bartender says something completely inaudible … He sounded more like the Swedish Chef from the Muppets than the extra-Irish barmaid he was shooting for. Dimples and I look at each other trying to figure out what he was saying. It turns out they didn’t serve Guinness. If you wanna act extra-Irish in a town like Boston, it doesn’t help by not having Guinness on tap. She orders whatever the house substitute was. On to the food … Dimples ordered the fried Atlantic cod & chips. I had the Beef stew. My stew was pretty good. Beef was tender and the vegetables were fresh. The fish & chips were much better. That’s what I’ll get next time I go.

As for the rest of the pub, it was an overall good experience. They typically have live music, but I have no idea where they could fit a band. This place was pretty small. No music last night since there was some sort of a trivia league. We weren’t playing but I helped out the table next to us on a few questions. Doesn’t everyone know that Billy the Kid also went by the names Henry Antrim and William Harrison Bonney in his younger years? As for Dimples, she was wonderful company. Namaste! Yankees suck!