194) Delany's (The Knocklyon Inn) of Knocklyon Road, D16
Knocklyon’s pink pub and seen even in the dark at a distance. Home to an excellent pint of stout, Beamish or Guinness. A comforting fire warms in winter. Now retired barman Padraig is a loss. Former lounge girl Lorraine exemplified the efficiency of speed at which liquid travels from tap to table. Owner Míchéal, bespectacled with a pair perched dangerously close to the top of his conk, can be seen proudly presiding over his public home and estate. Sam was so taken by the quality of the poured stout that an additional tipple was gladly taken and gulped down in record time.
Update Feb 2022: A revisit for a post Covid Beamo yielded excellent results. The Beamish bonded for only €4.60 and a scrawly hand written sign confirmed the price. Andrew Stephens declared it one of the finest pints he had ever tasted, even giving The Blue Haven a run for its money. On approaching the pub we noticed that some juvenile joker had robbed the “N” from the pub sign leaving a very evocative name indeed (see below)…
Update as of 2026: The Publopedians arrived at Delany’s having travelled via feet through an April shower, damp and chilled. Stouts were needed. We entered through the lounge at lunch and patrons were happily partaking in provisions. It is here, reader dear, that one can find the best, and certainly the most generous toasted ham & cheese sandwich of any pub in Dublin. If you are willing to part with only 550 cents, a handsome remuneration in the current climate, then you shall be rewarded with the following: a toasted ham & cheese sandwich, a side salad with a dress on, a wodge of coleslaw, and a full sized package of pub sized crisps. Eat that, uncle Pat! Grogan’s the Castle Lounge has been bested.
We moved into the bar where the poured Beamish was excellent - as dark as a priest’s sock, as white as a nun’s wimple. But are the televisions really necessary in that space? As we sipped and reminisced we were suddenly approached by none other than the aforementioned owner, Míchéal. Even though we try to remain incognito he announced he knew it was us, and we two became three as he sat and chatted about publife and other things, too. He represents the fourth generation of family owners since the pub was built in 1842, and one can sense the weight of history oozing out of the walls and permeating the very air. Like his great-grandfather before him he’s impassioned about the premises. But unlike other pubs in the vicinity such as Morton’s (already razed), and The Speaker Conolly which is soon for the wrecking ball, Míchéal expressed his wish to ‘die in the job.’
Sam was once again struck by the gorgeousity of Delany’s and described it is a delightful old school pub that gives one the happy escapist sensation of retreating to the countryside without technically leaving the precincts of the city. Places like this are becoming rarer. The frillions of knick-knacks on the shelves and mixed memorabilia affixed to the walls are certainly not new old. This is olde worlde. And it was ever thus! We stayed for yet another stout and left with a promise of return…
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