A Day At St. Jame’s Gate
There are certain things you have to do when you visit Dublin. Walk through Temple Bar. Listen to live music in a pub. Eat something involving potatoes. Develop strong opinions about Irish weather despite having been in the country for approximately 36 hours.
And, of course, drink Guinness.
Preferably several.
I already liked Guinness before visiting Ireland. But drinking Guinness in Ireland, particularly at St. James’s Gate where the stuff has been brewed since 1759, is an entirely different experience.
It tastes better. Maybe it’s fresher. Maybe it’s the atmosphere. Maybe Ireland has been running one of the world’s greatest beer-related psychological experiments for the last 267 years.
I don’t know.
But Guinness tastes better in Ireland, and I will die on this hill.
So when I found myself in Dublin, there was absolutely no chance I was leaving without making a pilgrimage to the Guinness Storehouse. It turned out to be one of my favorite experiences in Ireland, and I learned something important along the way.
Guinness isn’t really a beer.
It’s a food group.
Welcome to St. James’s Gate
The Guinness Storehouse sits at St. James’s Gate, the historic home of Guinness in Dublin. Calling it a brewery museum doesn’t really do it justice.
The place is enormous. You work your way through multiple floors covering the ingredients, brewing process, history, advertising and, most importantly, the proper consumption of Guinness.
What I loved about it was how immersive the entire experience felt. They don’t just throw some barley behind a piece of glass and expect you to pretend you’re fascinated.
They grow the stuff inside.
There is an actual barley exhibit in the Storehouse, and you can smell it from several floors away. The aroma is incredible. Warm, earthy, almost sweet. You start smelling it before you even know exactly where it’s coming from.
Eventually you find yourself standing next to real barley growing inside the Guinness Storehouse, which led me to an important scientific conclusion.
Barley is a grain. Grain is used to make cereal. Guinness is made with barley.
Therefore, Guinness is basically cereal.
Breakfast problem solved.
I’ve always said Guinness works for breakfast, lunch or dinner. Sometimes I’d have one with breakfast. Occasionally I’d have one instead of breakfast.
It’s practically a meal in itself.
And now that I’ve seen the barley, I feel vindicated.
Learning to Pour the Perfect Pint
Eventually we reached one of the experiences I was most excited about: learning how to properly pour a Guinness.
Because apparently I’d spent years drinking Guinness without possessing the necessary professional qualifications.
A bartender walks you through the process, including the angle of the glass, the pour and, most importantly, the patience required while the Guinness settles.
That may actually be the coolest part. Freshly poured Guinness doesn’t immediately look like the finished pint you’re accustomed to seeing. It churns and cascades inside the glass, slowly transforming into that unmistakable dark pint with the thick, creamy head.
Then you wait.
This is the part where you learn that pouring a Guinness requires more patience than most of my life decisions.
Once it settles, you finish the pour and there it is. A proper pint of Guinness, made by yours truly.
At this point, I considered myself basically a certified Irish bartender.
There may be some disagreement about the certification.
An Education in Completely Useless Guinness Skills
The Guinness Storehouse doesn’t just teach you how Guinness is made. Apparently, it also teaches you several skills that have absolutely no practical application anywhere else in life.
First came the #GuinnessStache.
There’s an entire wall dedicated to categorizing the foam mustache you get after taking a drink, with examples including The Natural, The Dipper, The Sipper, The Gulper, The Connoisseur and the rather distinguished Time at the Handlebar.
Naturally, I had to participate.
My result appears to have been some sort of upside-down Gulper. I’m not entirely sure that’s an officially recognized category, but Guinness is welcome to add it.
The photo also captures one of my finer international fashion decisions. There I am, standing inside the Guinness Storehouse in Dublin with beer foam covering my upper lip, wearing a Hard Rock Cafe Kyoto T-shirt.
Japan. Ireland. Guinness.
International man of culture.
Splitting the G
Ireland also introduced me to another completely unnecessary skill that I now take far too seriously.
Splitting the G.
If you’ve never done it, the challenge is simple. You take your first drink from a Guinness pint and try to stop with the beer line perfectly splitting the “G” in the Guinness logo on the glass.
That’s the entire game.
There is no trophy. There is no prize money. There is absolutely no reason any functioning adult should care about becoming good at this.
Naturally, I became obsessed.
After extensive practice, research and sacrifice, I’m proud to report that I’m pretty damn good at splitting the G now.
Some people return from Ireland with an appreciation for Celtic history.
I returned with a marketable skill.
The Free Guinness That Wasn’t Really the Last Guinness
Eventually, the tour leads you toward one of the best parts of the entire experience: having a pint high above Dublin.
Our experience included a Guinness, which seemed like a perfectly reasonable way to finish the tour. So we collected our pint and found ourselves looking out across Dublin with a fresh Guinness in hand.
Then something strange happened.
One Guinness became another Guinness.
I believe another Guinness may have become involved after that.
The exact historical record becomes slightly unreliable here.
But that’s part of what I loved about the experience. You’re standing high above Dublin, looking across the city, surrounded by people from all over the world doing exactly the same thing.
Nobody is particularly interested in leaving.
So we didn’t.
At least not immediately.
Eventually, Guinness Started Appearing in My Food
The Storehouse wasn’t the end of my Guinness education.
After spending enough time in Ireland, I started noticing a pattern. Guinness wasn’t just in my glass anymore.
It was in my food.
I ate Guinness meat pies. Guinness stew. Shepherd’s pie with a Guinness reduction. At some point, I stopped questioning why the Irish kept putting Guinness into everything and started wondering why the rest of us weren’t doing the same thing.
One of my favorites was a dark, rich Guinness stew buried beneath a pile of mashed potatoes. It was thick, savory and exactly the kind of food you want after wandering around Ireland all day.
Naturally, I washed it down with a Guinness.
Because apparently the appropriate beverage pairing for food cooked with Guinness is more Guinness.
Ireland gets me.
Breakfast: Guinness. Lunch: Guinness meat pie. Dinner: Guinness stew.
Dessert?
Let’s not overcomplicate things.
Another Guinness.
So, Is the Guinness Storehouse Worth It?
Absolutely.
But not simply because it’s a museum about beer.
There are plenty of museums where you walk around looking at old things behind glass, read a plaque, nod thoughtfully and then forget 80 percent of what you learned before reaching the gift shop.
Guinness doesn’t feel like that.
You smell the barley. You learn how the beer is made. You watch it cascade inside the glass. You learn how to pour it properly. You drink it. You develop completely unnecessary skills involving the letter G.
At some point, you may even wear it on your face.
Then you end up high above Dublin with a pint in your hand, looking across the city and wondering whether you really need to leave yet.
For me, that’s what makes the Guinness Storehouse worth visiting. It’s not simply a place that tells you about Guinness.
It lets you experience it.
Even if you’re only mildly interested in the beer, it’s difficult not to appreciate how deeply Guinness has become woven into Irish culture.
Of course, if you already love Guinness…
You’re screwed.
You’re going to love this place.
One Last Pint
Ireland was already a country I knew I’d enjoy. The pubs, the food, the people, the music and the scenery were all part of what brought me there.
But there was something about sitting down at the end of the day with a properly poured pint of Guinness that became part of the rhythm of being in Ireland.
After visiting St. James’s Gate, I appreciated that pint a little differently.
I knew what went into it. I knew how to pour it. I knew how to split the G. I knew what kind of foam mustache I apparently produced.
And most importantly, I knew Guinness could successfully be incorporated into nearly every meal of the day.
That’s knowledge you can use.
So if you find yourself in Dublin, go to St. James’s Gate. Smell the barley. Learn the pour. Drink the pint. Split the G.
Then head upstairs, look out across Dublin and order another one.
You’re in Ireland.
Normal rules don’t apply.
Especially the ones about drinking cereal for breakfast.
Blake Lawson
The Airport Republic
Citizen #1
