There’s nothing wrong with wanting a Guinness in Dublin. In fact, it’s practically law. But if you’ve just landed off the airport bus, wandered into Temple Bar, and paid €9.20 for a pint while a lad with a man bun sings Wonderwall, you might be thinking: “This can’t be it.”
Good news: it isn’t.
Bad news: you’ll need to walk 10 minutes in any direction.
This is my personal guide — no frills, no sponsored nonsense — to the real Irish pubs in Dublin, the ones where locals drink, chat, read the paper, argue about football, and quietly judge your pint-pouring technique.
What Makes a Proper Dublin Pub?
Let’s be clear. A proper pub is:
- Older than your Airbnb host
- Full of Dublin accents, not stag-do screeching
- Low lighting, worn floors, and a smell that could be history or just old beer
- No laminated menus with Guinness “cocktails”
- A pint poured right — settle, top, no rush
And most importantly: nobody’s filming themselves for social media. If you pull out a ring light, you’ll be ejected by atmospheric pressure alone.
Best Non-Touristy Pubs in Dublin (Where Locals Actually Go)
The Long Hall (51 South Great George’s Street)
Victorian décor, red leather snugs, carved wood, and a pint so smooth it could calm a riot. Staff don’t mess about, and neither do the regulars. One of the best Guinness pours in the city — you’ll hear that said often, because it’s true. Locals love it. Tourists sometimes wander in, look around, and quietly leave. That’s how you know it’s real.
Grogan’s (15 South William Street)
No music. No TV. Just conversation, pints and toasties. Toasted cheese sandwiches with a side of poetry — that’s the vibe. Writers, artists, cranky men reading The Herald. It gets packed after work. Bring cash and an ability to navigate narrow spaces. They still call it a “lounge” even though it’s basically a pint-sized furnace with windows.
Mulligan’s (8 Poolbeg Street)
They say the Guinness here is the best in Dublin. Big claim. Bigger pint. Old-school feel, sticky floors, and staff who’ve seen it all. Ulysses got mentioned in here. JFK might’ve had a drink here (he definitely had one somewhere). No music, no gimmicks, just a bar that doesn’t care what you think — and that’s refreshing.
The Stag’s Head (1 Dame Court)
Hidden down a side street. Brass fittings, mirrored walls, pints flowing like it’s 1927. You might spot a tourist or two, but they’re usually lost or lucky. Good mix of old Dubliners and city centre workers. The upstairs is sometimes used for comedy gigs, but downstairs is where the magic happens.
Walsh’s (401 North Circular Road, Stoneybatter)
Bit out of the way, but if you want to drink with actual Dubs in a pub that feels like someone’s living room — this is it. No frills, perfect Guinness, and a crowd who’ll nod at you once if they like your vibe and ignore you forever if they don’t. Which is how it should be.
Pubs That Are Technically Tourist Spots But Still Worth It
Kehoe’s (9 South Anne Street)
Crowded. Chaotic. But if you wedge yourself in, it’s still got the heart of a Dublin pub. Pint’s solid. Upstairs has weird couches and a smell of 1984.
Toner’s (139 Baggot Street Lower)
Yes, it’s in all the guidebooks. But it’s also genuinely great. Solid Guinness, good outdoor area, not trying to be anything it’s not.
What Not to Do in a Proper Irish Pub
- Don’t wave your money. The bar staff saw you. They’re working in order. You’re not in a nightclub.
- Don’t order a mojito. Or anything involving mint. If it comes in a blender, it belongs in another city.
- Don’t ask for “just a half” and then sigh loudly about portion sizes. You’re in Dublin, not Spain.
- Don’t leave after one pint. Unless you’re in a hurry or you’ve insulted someone’s mother.
And for the love of God: don’t call it a “bar.” It’s a pub.
Final Thoughts From a Retired Tour Guide
You don’t have to go off-grid to find the real Dublin — you just have to walk a few blocks past the souvenir shops. The city’s got soul, but you’ve got to meet it halfway. You sit in a pub like The Long Hall, you nurse your pint, you shut up and listen — that’s how you learn a city. Not from leaflets. From barstools.
Next time: I might finally talk about the GPO. Or maybe I’ll answer the ten most ridiculous tourist questions I’ve ever been asked. It’s a toss-up.
Got any weird pub stories from Dublin? Stick ’em in the comments. If they involve a bodhrán player and a German tourist called Klaus, I probably already know them.
