Lounge-tastic: Slainte

“I’m going to Slainte (pronounced Slon-cha).”
“What is that? I’ve never heard of that.”
“Have you heard of Slainte (pronounced rhyming with paint)?”
“Oh. That’s how you pronounce that?”

Yes, that is how it is pronounced. The word is a traditional Gaelic phrase translating to “cheers” in English. The name is confusing, but Slainte’s purpose is clear. It’s a place to kick back and get your lounge on.

Located on Preble St., Slainte operates in a world of its own. There’s little foot traffic, and if you were on Barf St. (sorry, Wharf) you would never think to hike up here. Visitors come specifically to visit Slainte.

At 7 p.m. on Thirsty Thursday a dozen people sat and lightly boozed at the bar and around the couch-filled lounge area. Even at this early hour, owner Ian Farnsworth was ripping around Slainte waiting on tables, pouring drinks and cooking food like he had 10 arms.

The liquor collection isn’t as extensive as most pubs and the beer cooler is way too small; our host replenished the $2 Grolsch bottles every few minutes. The strength of Slainte is its wines. It boasts over 80 different bottles and about 20 different wines by the glass. The wines are pricey, but this is old news to anyone who reads “The Wine Guys” column in the paper.

The menu has a handful of dining options along the line of fancy appetizers. I ordered six chicken skewers for $6.50, but almost felt bad doing so because Farnsworth was SO busy. The food was perfectly cooked and drenched in sweet and flavorful teriyaki sauce. The appetizer was impressive; especially considering the entire staff’s name is Ian Farnsworth.

Slainte is small, and including standing room the capacity tops out around 30. The walls are illuminated with small decorative lights, casting a hellish glow off the room’s red and black paint. There are comfortable couches to relax in, but seating opportunities are limited.

The sweet sounds of David Bullard filled the room with intricate guitar work and an acoustic cover of Bob Marley’s “Three Little Birds.” Then Bullard ceased to strum his Midwestern blues and announced open mic comedy was coming next.

I’d forgotten comedy came on Thursday, a huge mistake. Unlike a large venue, there is no place in Slainte to escape the jokes and endless bathroom humor. It’s just too intimate.

Open mics let comedians experiment with new jokes. As such, there were plenty of good laughs and plenty of “jokes” that filled the audience with crickets. As the show wore on, people mobbed Slainte as twenty-somethings began to overwhelm the place. The crowd started older, including middle-aged people, and got younger as the night went on.

Farnsworth says Thursday nights aren’t usually as packed, but he needed help on this night despite his good service. There is just too much to do when a place gets so busy.

Slainte is unique, with its own swagger that separates it from the countless other “Irish” saloons populating our country. But before you go, check their schedule, because whatever performance is on tap, there will be no escaping it.