Guinness when you’re tired

I spent an entire year in Dublin one weekend in the summer of 2001.

The predawn ferry from Wales. The Liffey. The free, outdoor roller-disco version of A Midsummer Night’s Dream. You know, the usual. And I learned there’s nothing more usual in Ireland than the nation’s unofficial drink, Guinness.

My first ever pint of the stuff was at a Dublin music hall on a Friday night. The thick, nearly burnt taste of unfermented barley was more than new to me. It was a shock to the system. My first coherent thought was that the dark, burly stout really is more like a meal than a drink, and by the looks of the rosy-cheeked regulars singing along with an effervescent Van Morrison cover band, they probably agreed with me—several times that day.

“The thing is, you can have too much of a meal,” cautions Ivar Quigley, a native Irishman and the namesake of Ivar’s Sports Bar & Grill on Perkins Road. “It’ll knock you down quick. You’ve got to nurse it.”

I took the brewery tour the next morning. The Guinness storehouse on Crane Street is fronted by a monolithic gate as black and formidable as the elixir crafted within from water, barley, hops and yeast.

We learned that in the 1920s the company thought it would be a good idea to promote Guinness’ health benefits, producing some priceless vintage advertising.

“Have a Guinness when you’re tired.” “Guinness makes you strong.” And the bluntly brilliant, “Guinness is good for you.” One antique newspaper article even quoted a man praising Guinness for curing him of cancer.

Recent studies do suggest that antioxidants found in Guinness are similar to those in fruits and vegetables that prevent cholesterol build-up on artery walls, but there’s no definitive evidence of Guinness’ cancer-fighting properties—although much of Ireland continues a diligent quest to reveal them one pint at a time.

Awaiting tourists at the end of their stroll through Guinness Brewery is the seventh-floor Gravity Bar, a free pint with your ticket stub, and a gorgeous panoramic view of old Dublin. We took it all in, and took our time doing it. That was one good pint of Guinness.

So good I haven’t had another one since.