Like any good Irish, (lapsed) Catholic, the tippy-top of my personal food pyramid consists solely of beer.  My poison of choice has always been Guinness, also known as the Grandfather of Stout. I’ve consumed swimming pools of the stuff, and in doing so have acquired an obsessive-compulsive system of judging what goes into a good pint, and what could make Arthur Guinness spin in his barley-laden grave.

So, on a mission straight from God, I seek to find the absolute best pint in New York City.  I’m including all boroughs except Staten Island (due to my ferry phobia) and I pledge to keep drinking until I find perfection, or my liver explodes – whichever comes first.

I will report my findings in the form of a point system broken down into 5 categories worth 10 points each. Perfect pint = 50.   

Glass: Must be a 20 oz pint glass, thick and heavy enough to hit or drop accidentally several times without actually breaking, or to use as a weapon if the situation arises.  If someone ever offers you Guinness in a bottle or God forbid a CAN, slap them with your glove and storm out with a flourish.

Pour: The glass must be held at a 45-degree angle directly under the tap. Guinness should be poured to fill three-quarters of the glass, and then allowed to settle – a crucial step that allows the nitrogen bubbles to shimmy up the sides of the glass and build the head of the pint. Once settled (usually 2-3 minutes will do), top off the glass. 

Head: Should extend one millimeter above the edge of the glass, without spilling over.  Also, major points deducted for any cutesy drawings of shamrocks or smiley faces, even on St. Patrick’s Day.  No one’s finger should be in your Guinness but yours, and it’s kind of like dressing up your dog in a bunny outfit: humiliating, unnecessary, and a waste of time.

Taste: Guinness should taste creamy, slightly espresso-y, and a bit burnt (due to roasted barley).  You should be able to imagine adding a scoop of vanilla ice cream and the result tasting good (it does).  A bad tasting Guinness, due to improper storage, pouring, or karma, will taste a bit like watered-down regret.  You’ll know it when you taste it.  

Bartender/Bartendress:  Guinness is only as good as the person pouring it.  If, during the ‘settling’ time, you haven’t learned about the barkeep’s hopes, dreams, astrological sign, family, and hopes for the future, go elsewhere.  I am lifelong friends with every person who has poured me more than one Guinness. That’s how it should be.

My first victim was Failte Irish Bar, 531 2^nd Avenue (between 29^th and 30^th). 

Glass: The correct 20 oz-er.  Appropriate thickness/weight.  10pts.

Pour: Could’ve given The Settle another full minute.  6pts.

Head: Spillage. 3pts.

Taste: I enjoyed immensely.  My companion kept referring to it’s similarity to stale raisin bread, but he was half in the bag by the time I showed up so his opinion is taken with a grain of salt.  9pts.

Bartender: I never got his name, political beliefs, thoughts on the afterlife, etc.  Not unfriendly, but not my new bff.  5pts. 

Total for Failte:  33 out of 50.   Nothing you’ll want to slap your mama over, but good for one pint….on your way to another bar.

Stumbling on….