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Despite sharing the name of Ireland's drunkest and most disorderly fair, Donnybrook is actually the kind of place that refuses to serve you a black and tan if they don't have the proper mixing spoon. It's muted class all around, from the young, affluent crowd to the smartly recycled décor: vintage wallpaper and sconces bought secondhand, tables hewn from thick heart pine salvaged from the old Bronx Republican Club. The lighting is so low you'd think someone forgot to pay the power bill, but the bar is well stocked with whiskeys and craft beers and features a nifty librarian's ladder—which the polite bartenders will not let you ride. You are more than welcome, however, to go to town on heavy Irish grub along the lines of sausage rolls and meat pies. — John Metcalfe