The Toucan

Céad Mile Failte, my friends!

“Oh, while a man may dream awake, on gentle Irish ground…”

Having lived in exile for many years, I feel a deep affinity with my homesick Irish chums, who, in London’s concrete desert, must feel like fish out of water.

Indeed, a man can suffer a fate worse than homesickness – thirst. But just when the outline of an Irish inn hovers on the polluted horizon, the wanderer’s delirious senses are tasked with telling the mirage of the Irish theme pub from the true green oasis.

Worry not, my friends – you can trust your stout-seeking instincts. The Toucan, just off Soho Square, is a genuine (if a little murky) Irish watering hole. Alas, long gone are the days when my old friend, legendary landlord Buzz, entertained his thirsty flock behind drawn curtains until daybreak – when an enforcement officer with the zeal of the Black & Tans violated this innocent haven twice in quick succession, Buzz was banned from the premises and reduced to deliver beer kegs to the edge of his own door step.

These days, under landlord Colin, the opening hours are more conservative but the venue has lost none of its rugged charm (of which, I should add, none is more rugged than the toilets’). Venture into the tiny cellar bar and you will still discover the three things that make the honorary Irishman’s eyes (and mouth) water – Guinness, oysters, and whiskey.

Guinness, or as the Reverend Iain Paisley has it, the devil’s buttermilk, flows from eight taps at above average quality, and price (£4). Should you also have the proverbial luck to obtain a portion of the rapidly sold-out Galway oysters, a celebration really is in order.

For this purpose, the pub commands one of the finest collections of rare Irish Whiskeys this side of the Grand Union Canal. Whether you fancy a little of the old Connemara Peated, a Limerick Slaney or even some Knappogue Castle, Colin will happily oblige.

For an even more special occasion, better-to-do connoisseurs may try to impress their paramour by ordering a ‘very rare’. But hold your horses (advice that also applies in the whiskey-induced throes of passion, my friends!) – a single measure of the 42-year-old Tullamore Cadenhead will pilfer a hefty £50 out of the cavalier’s hedge fund, with no hope of a European bail-out.

Finally, for fans of rare rock music, the Toucan offers an attraction far beyond the fleeting charms of liquor: In 1966, at an impromptu performance in the downstairs bar (then called “Knuckles”), the undisputed King of Rock’n’Roll made his London debut – Jimi Hendrix.

Slainte, my friends

Your

Max Obolensky