Slices of Irish Life: Down at Johnny Joe’s Pub
At this bar in Northern Ireland, the pints flow freely as musicians play all the old favorites.
Words by Rosie Schaap
Photographs by Kenneth O’Halloran
Illustrations by Antoine Corbineau
THE SMALL VILLAGE OF CUSHENDALL on the Antrim coast of Northern Ireland has only a few landmarks. One is the stone Curfew Tower, where rioters were locked up long ago (now home to an artists’ residency). Another is Johnny Joe’s, a fifth-generation family-owned pub.
The Georgian facade at McCollam’s Public House — its official name, but no one calls it that — broadcasts its 19th-century beginnings, and its layout, a warren of discrete rooms of varying sizes ranging from cozy to extremely cozy, imparts the intimate feeling that one has entered a family home. It’s hung in there through the worst of times in Northern Ireland, welcoming musicians and their listeners, locals and tourists, for as long as anyone can remember. But Johnny Joe’s is not an artifact, not a nostalgia trip: It’s breathing, bustling, and alive, as I learned over two Friday nights when I stopped in to hear one of the best live traditional-music sessions in the north.
A pub’s tone is set by the people who run it, and Sheila and Joe Blaney are warm, gracious hosts, inviting visitors into the life of the pub and its friendly craic, that wonderful Irish term for easeful, flowing conversation. I can’t think of a more companionable place to spend a brisk autumn evening, drinking perfect pints of creamy stout and hearing songs that have been played for generations.
On my first visit, the music in the front parlor was dominated by accordions, whose mighty noise nearly drowned out the quietly powerful musicianship of a lone flutist. An older gent joined in on a banjo with the shortest neck I’d ever seen. A woman rested a bottle of lager on a piano and, once she picked up the melody, started tinkling away. Debate ensued among the players about what sort of song they were dealing with, until one concluded that it was a planxty — a tune originally composed for the harp, slower than a jig.
Soon the front-parlor musicians took a break, and I moved into another, even smaller, room — the former kitchen, which quieted when a gentleman in a tweed jacket and cap stepped in. “Give us a song, Charlie?” someone pleaded. He eased into an armchair tucked next to the stove, singing with expressive beauty and, as it was a gently risqué number, deftly timed humor. He has been part of these Friday-night sessions at Johnny Joe’s for decades.
Well into the night on my second Friday, an 11-year-old girl turned up. She strapped on her banjo and confidently took her place among the old fellas, a soft drink at her side. An avuncular accordionist, Kieran, paid close attention, encouraging her. I listened for another hour and then had to go. Later, I imagined that the young banjoist kept going for hours more, her poise and self- assuredness growing with each jig, each air, each planxty. I imagined that as long as there are kids like her who love and learn this music, there will be people who will listen at Johnny Joe’s.
Three Irish bottles to try
Stonewell Tobairín, Irish Craft Cider
Crisp and light, with a complexity not usually found in ciders with a low 1.5 percent ABV.
Rustbucket Rye Ale, Kinnegar Brewing
A mix of barley and rye makes for an appealingly earthy ale with a kick of spice.
O’Hara’s Irish Stout, Carlow Brewing Company
Dark, dry, and malty, with a clear coffee flavor; easy to find in the States.
About the author: Rosie Schaap is the author of the memoir Drinking With Men, named one of 2013’s best books by Library Journal and National Public Radio. From 2011 to 2017, she was the “Drink” columnist for The New York Times Magazine, and her writing has also appeared in Food & Wine, Lucky Peach, and Saveur, among other publications. Schaap is on the faculty of the MFA program in creative writing at Fairleigh Dickinson University.
