Luck of the Irish

I wish it was last Friday. A lot.
At this time last Friday, I was sitting at a quaint little table listening to a bad 80's band in a great Irish bar - Fionn McCools.
Why was it great?
1. They served Smithwick's - in Smithwick's glasses.
2. They served Smithwick's - in Smithwick's glasses.
3. They served Smi... you get the point.
We had dinner here, too! Baked Brie with Peach Chutney, Fish Chowder, Fish & Chips, Shepard's Pie, oh my! So YUMMY! We loved Fionn McCools so much, we had dinner there on Saturday night, too. Of course, we chose a different location. And, they had Smithwicks.
We met a guy who built Regional Jets for Embraer. He told a story about going to the local hardware store to buy bolts for an aircraft rush order when they were out. Nice. Real Nice. He is scared of flying. (I should note here that he did NOT drink Smithwicks, and he was Scottish.)
R, R, and T made friends with the bouncer. Apparently, in this bar, people like to jump off the roof. I'm not too sure that wasn't some Irish Folklore, but the guys believed him.
This whole block (Fionn McCools, St Clair Street, Toronto) is filled with Irish bars - 4 of them. WOOT! We tried to go to several others, but they sucked. Bottom line, if they don't serve Smithwicks, they aren't Irish.
I'd highly recommend Fionn McCools. I wish we had one in Texas.




