Posh Paddys - Corby

Posh Paddys, the Corby bar I've been avoiding if I'm honest. Not for reasons of reputation you understand, more that it just didn't seem to be my kind of Irish themed Bar/Diner. I was wrong of course, it sells beer in easily accessible and pleasant surroundings, and with the football obvs, which makes it exactly my kind of Irish themed Bar/Diner. I think it's the name that put me off to be honest, something I've found with practically every Irish themed pub/bar outside of the real thing in the actual Emerald Isle. Posh Paddys! What's can it mean?

Now as I'm sure you know, us Irish are delighted to be called Paddys. Ask any Irishman (but more particularly Shane McGowan) and he'll tell you that. We're also desperately posh, that's obvs! But here's the thing, we're posh yes, but we don't like to boast about it! The best kind of posh then, a low-key, unassuming, modest kind of posh. Posh Paddys seems a bit 'look at me! I'm Posh, I'm a Paddy'. Not my kind of place then.

Besides, I wasn't at all sure whether Posh Paddys was just a licensed eatery, or whether you could spend an afternoon on the beer with mates entirely food-free and not have to eke out a single bowl of spicy fries for six hours in lieu of a meal. Happily the latter is the case, it's very much a bar that does food. A bar in the very centre of Corby's modern shopping experience, straddling as it does the pedestrian link from 'old' Corporation Street to the glitzy modernity of Willow Place Shopping Centre (and very handy for the new RSPCA Charity Shop sez Mrs EPIC, and she'd know!).

Now I'd had a frankly horrific experience with a can of over-sweetened Grapefruit Lager in a nearby young persons bar, and needed proper afternoon refreshment. The kind of refreshment a cool Guinness usually delivers even if it delivers little else. It was time to break my duck at Posh Paddys, time to polish-up my dodgy Norn' Oirish accent and mingle with my brethren. Corby brethren that is...

Once again I made the schoolboy error of ordering a Stout before checking the fridge for authentic 'Craft Beer', this Smithwick's Red Ale just one of many beers from tiny railway arch breweries now available in Corby's pubs. I'll be sure to try it next time and report back, hopefully before the nation's beer enthusiasts descend on the town and strip the shelves clean.

The Guinness was fine, the service typically Corby impeccable, ie. no shamrock on top of the Guinness. "I'll bring that to your table" the words every pub blogger wants to hear, unless they want a photo of the freshly poured beer settling on the bar of course, in which case it's the words every pub blogger doesn't want to hear. I was happy to settle for the regulation four anxious fidgety minutes before I began my oh-so-casual exploration of the bar, most of which turned out to be upstairs. The downstairs bar serves a busy dozen or so tables and in warmer times a small hedge-bound patio area. Nice, quite buzzy really, but I needed to take my Guinness for a walk upstairs and I was glad I did.

What. A. View!

Huge windows give out to both sides of the bar, the bustle and shop of Spencer Court one way, with the contrasting bustle and shop of Willow Place t'other. You'll search long and hard to find a better view of Spencer Court and Willow Place, and I was delighted to spot yet more of Corby's truly exceptional Modern Art heritage (left) from my vantage point astern of the bar. A beautiful frieze of blue and yellow geometric patterned tiles, artfully arranged high up on the Spencer Court flats. How on earth had I missed this one! Corby just keeps on surprising me with its plethora of art and culture. And its pubs of course...

So the upstairs bar is worth the climb for the vista alone, but it also comes with it's own bar servery, comfy banquet seating, an enormous projection screen for the football, and a quality selection of tables and chairs for repose. Beat that, '6-pack in front of the telly' at home night!

By law, every Irish themed bar must carry a Bodhrán and a clear definition of the word 'Feck'

Actually, it's in the wee small hours that the upstairs bar really comes into its own. Particularly when there's something to celebrate, or it's Saturday band night, or it's just 'the night'. It's then that the 'whole-wall' football screen ascends, the tables are pushed back, and the dancing starts in earnest. That's right! Another Corby dancing bar, though nobody was actually dancing when I was there on a Saturday afternoon. A bit too hungry I guess, most folk washing their pints down with a good solid meal. Quite foody during the day then, but I didn't feel in the least bit out of place, clearly middle-aged liquid diners like myself are as welcome as any at Posh Paddys.

Sham-Rock'n'Roll is a feature of the upstairs bar

Craft Beer credentials confirmed in the Gents

A little bit of Corby history

February Update: The thought of that rare Smithwicks Red Ale had been eating away at me since the day I spied it, glinting seductively in the fridge behind my pint of Guinness. The mediocre Dublin black stuff has been trending all over the beer-o-sphere recently, for reasons I really can't fathom. Yes it's the new reigning champion of beer sales in Britain, yes it takes very little to turn the head of a beer enthusiast, ok so it can taste quite nice, very occasionally, but where was the dewy eyed fawning when Carling held the top spot eh! Not a bit of it, but my head is as easily turned by a gushing beer headline, and that is my excuse for missing out on the reddish-umber nectar first time around.

Anyway, I was mad keen to record the event on O'Tappd, so at the first opportunity I arranged to lose Mrs Epic in the labyrinth of Corby's shopping precinct and savour a glass with the local paper. The correct 'craft' pour allows the beer to release all its flavour into the head, which presumably accounts for general lack of flavour in the beer. A triumph of colour over flavour for sure, but nice enough for a bottle.

I took my paper and a four pack of Corby's world class Pineapple Tarts to the other side of the bar because a change is as good as a rest. Back on the Guinness, watching the world, but more particularly the customers of Wilkinson come and go, and an ugly fight between the local Crows and a small Owl in the tree opposite. Wildlife is one of Corby Town's less known attractions, I'll be sure to bring my binoculars next time.