Everybody's Irish; whiskey booms, cordials stay hot beer does well: Irish brands are smiling

Cheers, Jan-Feb, 2003 by Lew Bryson

Irish pubs are everywhere these days, and not just in the I U.S., either. The last one I visited was across the street from the Hofbrauhaus in Munich, a place called The Galway Hooker. Even on the main drag in Turin, Italy, Irish bars are thicker than heather. They're part of a universal drinking language, a bit of familiarity for Irish and non-Irish alike.

In Munich the bartenders defiantly spoke Irish-accented English, poured a wider variety of beers than I found anywhere else in Bavaria, and made me feel comfortable with a canny combination of sharp wit and warm welcome.

"Irish soul."

That's what Chris Mullins says makes an Irish pub an Irish pub. Chris and his wife Mary Ellen own McGillin's Ale House in Philadelphia, Philly's oldest bar. What's Irish soul? "My first pub," Chris explains, "was a little neighborhood place, about $800 in sales a week, with no ambiance. We made that old man's bar into a thumping Irish singing pub. It was a home run, We did Irish music, we had great bands. We did Irish beer. We were the first Harp draft customers in the area, and Guinness wasn't as well known then. We encouraged the staff to be friendly and make people feel welcome. We put some Irish soul in there, and we increased business 15-fold in one year."

Martin Whelan, who owns Maggie's Place in Manhattan (along with a Scottish pub, St. Andrew's), is a bit more pithy. "In New York, Boston, or Chicago, you have to have Irish people," he said. "Outside of those places, it's all about decor. Fado and others are building chain Irish pubs, but you can't do that in New York, Boston, or Chicago. You need Guinness and Harp on tap. A lot of Irish places serve solid food at a fair price. People have a certain expectation of welcome at an Irish pub. There's nothing trendy about them, and people like that."

New York and Boston are full of Irish and Irish-Americans, of course, but one thing must be noted. When we speak of "Irish pubs," we're really speaking of "Irish-style pubs," unless we're talking about a place in Ireland. Fergus Carey, who owns Fergie's, about a block over from McGilin's in Philadelphia, gets his back up about that a bit.

"I'm Irish, and I own a pub," he said, "but I don't call Fergie's an Irish pub. Places in America that call themselves 'Irish Pubs' should be sued by the Irish people. They're good for what they are, but...an Irish-American bar and what they sell and what they cater to are different from what Irish pubs do. They're not in Ireland." Point taken, even though we still call them Irish pubs. It's just too convenient not to.

EMERALD CHAINS

What about those Fado pubs? I asked Kieran Aherne, the general manager at Fado Chicago, about them. "There are ten Fado pubs," he said, "owned by Kieran McGill and some investors. They opened the first in Atlanta in 1996, then Austin and so forth. They don't like to call themselves a franchise or chain, because each pub is different, though the menu, beer, and philosophy are the same. It's not like Bennigan's, where every one looks the same. The paperwork is the same, but the pub's different," The proof of the pudding is in the eating, and the Fado pubs have done well.

But still, what makes an Irish pub? Soul, welcome, witty servers and good craic, the sharp wit that the Irish are known for? Or maybe it's more tangible things, like decor, Irish food, or live performances of "traditional" music. That's all open to debate, but a bar is still a bar and there is a triumvirate of drinks that have to be in an Irish pub: Irish stout, Irish whiskey, and Irish cream liqueur. Which brands of those you have is something more open to debate.

Irish whiskey, for instance, used to be an automatic: you had Jameson, unless you had a stash of crocks of Tullamore Dew. Now there are over a dozen Irish whiskeys available, though the ownership still breaks almost down the same way: there's Jameson, Bushmills, and almost everything else, owned by Pernod Ricard, and there's Tullamore Dew, representing Allied Domecq. The Cooley Distillery's Tyrconnel, Kilbeggan and Connemara whiskeys and Great Spirits' high-end Knappogue Castle whiskey almost complete the picture.

But Pernod Ricard has 85% of the category in the U.S., a dominant share. Why? "It goes back to the mid-80s when Pernod Ricard acquired Irish Distillers," says Jeff Agdern, who manages the Irish brands for Pernod. "The company did a strategic assessment of which brands had the most potential. Jameson came out, and Pernod has put a lot into building the brand. It's up to our company to become the champion of Irish whiskey."

TOP OF THE HEAP

Jameson is still the standard bearer. "If you look at the category numbers, it looks like Irish whiskey has grown; it's actually Jameson," Agdern said. "In 1998, Jameson was at roughly 150,000 cases. In 2002 we're looking at 225,000 cases." Agdern hopes to build Bushmills in a similar fashion. "This is our first year of really working on Bushmills," he said, "and it's responding well. We're launching a 21 year old Bushmills single malt in the spring."