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Friday, June 27, 2003

One minute we were listening to some famously distinctive Irish folk music, pondering the Guinness and the shepherd's pie, and the next we were listening to the Red Hot Chili Peppers, glaring at some Wild Turkey in a plastic cup and gnawing on nachos.

I guess we were transported, but I didn't know that we wanted to be.

All right, the nachos were "Celtic Style," presumably validated by the presence of scallions, but even that's a bit of a reach.

Finnigan's Wake has some great stuff -- try the Beer Mussels ($6.95), steamed in ale and served in a spicy sauce. Really excellent. And sweet potato fries, served with some of the burgers. Very nice.

Just don't try to figure the place out because it can be as impenetrable as the James Joyce novel by the same name, though that is spelled "Finnegans Wake." When the DJ brought to bear Joan Jett and the Blackhearts with the bucolic whistling of the Irish folk songs still echoing in our ears, I felt like I was back on page 5 of Joyce.

"Of the first was he to bare arms and a name: Wassaily Booslaeugh of Riesengeborg. His crest of huroldry, in vert with ancillars, troubland, argent, a hegoack, poursuivant, horrid, horned. His scutschum fessed, with archers strung, helio, of the second. Hootch is for husbandman handling his hoe. Hohohoho, Mister Finn, you're going to be Mister Finnagain!"

Right. Huh?

Finnigan's Wake is fronted by a large bar of the kind Munch greatly prefers. Patrons sit in a large rectangle, the better to see each other and know just what manner of clientele you are dealing with during your particular session. There is a good selection of drafts, but only Guinness is loyal to the ostensible old sod theme. The traditional full-bodied pint is $5.

The back room, where most of the food is served, is rustic and elemental, save for a second bar and a small staging area for live musicians, some of whom faithfully perform "Finnegan's Wake," the rollicking Irish standard in which some splattered liquor awakens the corpse of Tim Finnegan.

When we visited recently, it was in the hour after a nice crowd had vacated the place for the Pirate game down the street, and the back room had cleared so thoroughly it could have been used for an actual wake. Initially, there was no awakening of the serving staff either, but we gradually got our momentum.

Friend of Munch was blessed by the Beer Mussels and followed 'em up with the shepherd's pie, the classic Irish combo of ground beef and lamb with fresh peas topped with a mashed potatoes. The shepherd's pie topping at Finnigan's Wake makes a fine presentation, as the potatoes are whipped and swirled rather elegantly, almost to the point where the dish looks as though it could be capably thrown by any of The Three Stooges.

The shepherd's pie is also called the Gene Kelly, as most of Finnigan's Wake's specialties and sandwiches have been named after legendary Pittsburghers or Pittsburgh places. Munch got the Danny Murtaugh, which is the fish 'n' chips, on this night a large but unremarkable species that ran from bland to slimy and back. Just not one of Murtaugh's better nights evidently.

Munch should have gone with the Irish stew (The Jimmy Stewart), the classic Burgh burger, or the turkey dinner. The folks who just stayed in the bar seemed to be finding Finnigan's Wake a very happy place.

Finnigan's Wake is on General Robinson Street, a half block from PNC Park. It's open 11 a.m. until 2 a.m. When the Pirates are away, Finnigan's Wake is closed Sundays and Saturday hours are 5 p.m. until 2 a.m. Call 412-325-2601.