O'Gara Bar and Grill

First, the food was horrible. My fries were cold and my burger was extremely raw even though I asked for it to be well done. Second, the service was terrible. They were not even a quarter-full and yet our server was slow and rude. I will never be going here again unless I end up liking food that makes me feel sick and subpar service.

They have my name on caller ID.  For some people, achieving that level of intimacy with a bar would be a bad thing. To me, it merely signifies that the food is good enough that I order it frequently, and the service is quality. Either that or the bartenders use it to screen my calls...in which case, I wouldn't blame them.

For those that have been following my reviews, you know I am a sucker for all things Irish. And this bar is no exception. I love the coat of arms above the bar, the green tin ceilings, and the classic photos from St Paul in the 1940's . It looks like a 70 year old leprechaun puked a blessing on this bar.

They have good burgers and sandwiches at a decent price, but I haven't been adventurous enough to dive deeper into the menu and try their walleye or other entrees. The bloodies are fantastic. **Almost** as good as mine...but not quite.

I have seen a couple of good bands here, and would recommend this as a venue over places like Station 4 or Fine Line, where you are herded in and out of a holding space with no personality and more hipsters than I have energy to deal with.

The bartenders are good looking and treat you like family, but are never overbearing. And the O'Gara's bus has taken me to my fair share of Twins, Vikings, and Wild games. Seriously, it is the best option there is: grab a bloody Mary, get it to-go, and ride the free bus down there.

OGara's is a neighborhood, nay CITY-wide institution.
The establishment owners are extremely courteous, and really give back to the community (i've heard this has been going on for generations).

There's even a story about how they used to plow a direct path from a house in the neighborhood to their door, since the old man who lived there walked there to lunch every day in the winter.
Now that's just old-school Saint Paul classiness.

This is not a bar you go to for ironic bingo (VFW), and it doesnt have a hip bike rack packed with fixies out front, or a cicerone who has a finely waxed mustache.
This IS your dads bar.
In a good way.

The also have surprisingly good bloody marys in the shanty.

Bonus points:
- Check out the Snoopy wall (Charle's M Schultz' Dad's barbershop used to reside there), or
- the excellent belt driven fans by the bar.