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Mulligan’s is downright sleepy: a jukebox spits out ignored classic-rock hits at a sensible volume; a long wooden bar, tended by a bored Irish barkeep, runs most of the length of the interior; and seven muted televisions broadcast sports programs that no one’s really watching. The dim lighting, coupled with the deep-red paint and the dark-wood paneling, almost keeps you from noticing the grungy furnishings and the water stains on the drop ceiling. The walls are artlessly hung with airport–gift-shop posters of quaint Irish scenery. A standard menu of below-average bar food is coupled with a no-frills lineup of standard beers (you won’t find anything here more interesting than Guinness or Bass). On the plus side, kids are welcome! — Amy Blair