From Maui to Montevideo, Guinness has gone global. Faye Curran hops on the case to find out why Irish pubs can be found just about anywhere, and whether they’re traditional or trite.

When Tipperary-born Michael O’Dwyer first moved to Maui, Hawaii in 1996, he ran into one major problem – he couldn’t get a pint of draught Guinness anywhere on the island.

“We found this little bar close to where I worked at the Four Seasons,” he says. “They put cans of Guinness in, but then finally we persuaded them to put in a Guinness tap. We even bought pint glasses for them.

“Then on St Patrick’s Day, they kicked us out at 9pm. So, I decided – let’s take this over.”

Since 2001, O’Dwyer has run Mulligans on the Blue, Maui’s only Irish-owned restaurant and bar. Here, he serves pints of the black stuff to locals and tourists alike, regularly draining the kegs dry.

“We ran out last weekend – there was no Guinness in Hawaii. We’ve got our order in for St Patrick’s Day, so we just have to keep our fingers crossed that we’ll get enough.”

“It’s the best pub style in the world, it’s as simple as that”

Gabriel Prieto

Mulligans on the Blue is just one of many Irish bars that have popped up in surprising places around the globe. According to the Irish Pubs Global Federation, there are 6500 Irish pubs pouring pints outside of Ireland – with at least one bar in 160 countries worldwide. As twee, green, and schmaltzy as possible, the Irish pub is a staple for homesick Paddys, non-adventurous holidaymakers, and people looking to get absolutely gee-eyed in familiar surroundings.

Nevertheless, too much pomp and they lose their charm – a lesson learned the hard way for O’Dwyer.

“I won’t say I went crazy, but at one point I was making corned beef and cabbage spring rolls for the pub,” he laughs.

“People weren’t getting it, so we adopted my mother’s shepherd’s pie, fish and chips, and a Guinness pot pie. I was looking at the sales for last night and this week, and the biggest seller is the shepherd’s pie. People want that warm Irish feeling.”

Hailing from a nation of just five million people, Irish tourists are never going to be the biggest clientele base for the pubs, but as O’Dwyer sees it, the term ‘Irish’ is a loose one anyway.

“In all honesty, there’s probably 24 Irish people on the island,” O’Dwyer says. “But everybody has an Irish connection, or if they don’t, they want to have one, and they go back to a great-great-grandfather or grandmother – that’s the majority of our business.”

This was a sentiment which Andres Thor Bjornsson also tapped into. Founder of The Drunk Rabbit in Reykjavík, the honorary Paddy was drawn in by the atmosphere, music, and of course, the Guinness found in Irish pubs.

“That’s something that you can’t find in other pubs,” he says.

For research, though, Bjornsson went further afield than Ireland, heading to the home of schmaltz – New York City. Here he toured one of the city’s most famous Irish pubs, The Dead Rabbit, taking more than just inspiration from their approach.

“I tried to steal their name and that didn’t go well because they were crazy, and they were gonna sue,” he says, “So, I changed it to The Drunk Rabbit – it’s better to be drunk than dead.”

To create the ‘authentic’ Irish pub feeling, Bjornsson is heavily focused on one thing – a perfect pint of porter.

Porter pouring is a specific science, which has to start with a very clean, Guinness-branded glass. If you don’t have one, you’re finished before you’ve even begun, because microorganisms will appear on the top of the head. 

When pouring, glasses should be held at a 45-degree angle, with the tap aiming toward the glimmering gold harp logo on the glass. As the black liquid reaches the top of the harp, the glass is set down for the Guinness to surge and settle, producing a creamy white foam on top. After 60-80 seconds, the glass is held straight and filled to the top, until a rounded dome appears.

To ensure The Drunk Rabbit doesn’t appear on online Guinness shaming sites, where porter fiends expose heinous pints, Bjornsson took his staff to the Guinness Storehouse in Dublin.

“It’s a tradition that you have to follow,” Bjornsson says. “I have this big group of Irish guys that come every day to the pub and drink, so it has to be right.”

On one of his trips to Ireland, Bjornsson met musician Patrick O’Neill (known as Shaky) and Derek Mullinan, who now play traditional Irish music at The Drunk Rabbit twice a year.

“Sometimes I have a typical Icelandic troubadour that plays all kinds of songs with them,” he says.

This same cross-culture melange can be seen in The Shannon Irish Pub, Montevideo, Uruguay, where pub owners Gabriel Prieto and Sergio Prieto are proud to represent the small community of Irish descendants who arrived in the 1700s. 

“This will be the fifth year we will make a trip to Ireland for research”

Gabriel Preto

In a time referred to as an “economic miracle” for the South American country, groups of Irish farmers migrated to work in rural areas. Nowadays, many blue-eyed Uruguayans can trace their heritage back to the Emerald Isle.

“My wife is an Irish descendant,” Gabriel Prieto says. “So when we decided to open in 2001, I studied Irish culture in guides every day and spoke with Irish descendants.

“Now we have made trips to Ireland, taking friends and clients. This year will be the fifth time we will make a trip to Ireland for research.”

Like at The Drunk Rabbit, there is a huge emphasis on music at The Shannon. Bands like Grianan, led by fourth-generation Irish-Uruguayan Conrad O’Neill, perform at the Shannon regularly. Other bands on the roster include the Creepy Celtic Brothers and the River Pipe Band – who Prieto says draw big crowds from all walks of life.

“The people that go to the pub are friends of ours, friends of musicians, people who like Ireland or went to Ireland at some point, people who live music and foreigners who are visiting or working in Montevideo,” he says.

“I think it’s because it’s the best pub style in the world, it’s as simple as that. Irish pubs are authentic, good vibes, good music, and good drinks.”

This loose approach to what makes an Irish pub ‘Irish’ is perhaps their selling point. In most cases, so long as they have an Irish-sounding name, don’t kick you out after 9pm, and serve good Guinness, Irish people are happy to call them their own.