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There are two kinds of Irish bars in this city: The self-consciously Gaelic, full of emerald kitsch and drunken jerks; and the rarer pubs where civilization, in the form of perfectly pulled Guinness and artery-hardening Irish breakfast (sausage, black pudding, eggs; served all day), rules. St. Dymphna's is the epitome of the latter, a neighborhood hangout with comfortably padded barstools, draft beers that range from the classic stout to rich, creamy Boddingtons pub ale to Kirin lager (all $6), and a slightly older (i.e., late twenties and up) but still quite cool clientele that doesn’t mind if the sound system plays a little too much Clapton, just as long as the bartender’s eyes—Irish? Brazilian? Tibetan?—keep smiling. — Matt Gross