13 May 2026

Beer and sandwiches: Fitzgerald’s in Dublin

This column is our weekly pub review, written by pintsmen, women and children across the nation. Suggestions to letters@newstatesman.co.uk

By New Statesman

The English have their green and pleasant land. The Irish, traditionally, have the land of saints and scholars. One-nil to the Irish, on the ethno-cliché front, at least. But whatever happened to that lovely Hibernian reputation? We seem to have misplaced WB Yeats’s lapping shores on Innisfree for Conor McGregor; the soggy peat of Seamus Heaney’s childhood for Jedward; and the grey brick upon brick of Louis MacNeice’s Dublin for Louis Walsh.

Liquid lunches

Never mind, because a sliver of that old world is preserved on a suburban corner in Sandycove (Cuas an Ghainimh before that pesky Act of Union), South County Dublin. It’s called Fitzgerald’s, a five-minute walk from the Martello tower of Ulysses fame. But if you were after the “sandwiches” component of Beer and Sandwiches you would be leaving hungry. Ireland is famous for its pubs, yes. The prefix “gastro-” has yet to enter the lexicon, however. I hope you like crisps.

All about context

You’re sick of hearing it. But there is some truth to the quality of Irish Guinness over English. No, of course not on the molecular level. But with beer, as it is with sandwiches, context is everything. The sensibility of the drinker, the stage of life, the proximity to the world’s most famous Martello tower (not exactly an Oscar, I know) all conspire to elevate the pint to its platonic form. Just be prepared – in commending a pub called Fitzgerald’s – to be called a West Brit on your way out.

Fitzgerald’s, Sandycove Road, Dublin, Ireland