It was the boastful green shamrock declaring “The House of Irish Coffee” standing tall above Tom Bergin’s Tavern that immediately raised my level of skepticism to a fever pitch during my first few days in Los Angeles. How dare this bar in the middle of a less than remarkable block along Fairfax Avenue have the nerve to not only reference Irish Coffee in its sign, but actually manifest what I felt was a sacrilegious claim. What could LA possibly know about Irish Coffee? It is Sunny and 78 degrees everyday, and you can’t make an Irish Coffee with soymilk.

Having spent the previous 5 years in New York, Manhattan has a trademark on large and boastful; I was quickly learning that over-the-top proclamations in Los Angeles were also derigueur. This is a city where publicists have publicists, and bold, sweeping statements and glowing outward appearances are given more leeway than a Hummer barreling down Rodeo Drive, and usually carry as much validity and weight as a starlet on the WB. It is home, after all, to another sign that sends a romanticized message to the world. But one need only stand on the corner of Hollywood and Vine to discern the glamour and allure conjured up by those 9 white letters atop the hill has little to do with the harsh reality of the surrounding streets.

I grew up in the Bay Area, and for a time lived within striking distance of the Buena Vista in San Francisco, the Mecca of Irish Coffee. I had been schooled in the subtle art and science of this cocktail, by observing the systematic creation of rounds of the hot drink by waist-coated bartenders during post-Thanksgiving dinner visits. So the claim Tom Bergin’s made had to be investigated, debunked if necessary, for I was on a crusade, and while the proximity of the bar to my home would actually make it an ideal neighborhood haunt, I was willing to forego convenience for the sake of conscience.

Entering Tom Bergin’s I was immediately stuck by how dark it is inside. This can be a welcome change from the glaring Southern California sun, or a little off-putting, when walking into unfamiliar territory. Once my eyes adjusted, and bearings were set, I pulled up one of the small, high, wooden benches, that surround the beautifully worn wooden horseshoe bar and ordered an Irish Coffee. I quickly noted the slight differences in the concoction compared to the BV, but was relived when the drink was topped with real cream whipped into a foamy, thick consistency and not tainted by the canned variety. Taking the first sip, I was pleasantly surprised by its similarity to those drinks from my past, which relaxed me enough to soak in the surroundings.

The ceiling and walls of Tom Bergin’s Tavern, founded in 1936, Mr. Bergin sold the bar in 1973, are covered with hundreds of green paper shamrocks, bearing the names of loyal customers, along with a few pictures and other memorabilia of the Los Angeles Rams and USC Trojans. The entire visible surface is a deep, rich, and warm dark wood that has a certain transporting effect removing you from the highly polished, nipped and tucked Beverly Hills only a few blocks to the west. There are several televisions above the bar with accessible views from all angles, but this is not what I would call a sports bar, nor is it a soccer and suds pub, but it is a nice place to catch a game. Although you often have to compete with the better than average juke box in the corner, and the Rube Goldberg configuration of the cable system that can delay your viewing.

Lunch and Dinner are served most days, and the food, traditional Irish fare to Burgers and Fries is respectable, if not satisfying. There is a slightly more upscale dinning room in the rear of the tavern styled in a horse racing motif, although eating at the bar is perfectly acceptable, and for me, preferable, particularly on Saturday afternoons during college football season. The bartenders range in age and attitude, but all have been agreeable, and appropriately dressed in starched white shirts and ties. Although they may not always know your name, they usually remember what teams you like, and what beer you drink. The full bar has a nice selection of spirits, and the standard taps you would expect from an Irish establishment namely, Bass, Harp, and Guinness.

Many consider Tom Bergin’s their local pub; in fact, I have heard on more than one occasion that it is like Cheers. Well, here the pints are $5, and I have yet to be treated to one on the house, but there certainly is a familiar atmosphere to the bar. I will caution against most weekend nights, as Tom Bergin’s can get very crowded, and you’ll wish you had Norm’s prime position at the oak. As for the self-anointed title of “The House of Irish Coffee” I can only say that with the Mecca of Irish Coffee 400 miles to the north, “The House” serves as a nice home away from home. – C.M.