Bernard Whitmore

1160 West Boylston Street, Worcester
(508) 853-0789 | oconnorsrestaurant.com

This year marks five years since friends and neighbors gathered for Saint Patrick’s dinner under the gathering storm clouds of the pandemic. With each passing hour the CDC was lowering the number of people allowed to gather socially. As we sat around the table it was impossible to foresee the changes coming. It seemed inconceivable to me that venerable traditions such as the Boston Marathon, St Patrick’s Day parade and post-parade gathering at O’Connor’s – the only Sunday Brendan and Clare opened their Irish bar for business – would be disrupted. 

All that’s behind us now and we’re adjusting to whatever ‘normal’ is coming at us. But occasional reminders of how much things have changed from pre-pandemic times persist. Such as when we were recently seated in a deserted dining room at O’Connor’s. Admittedly, it was early in the week and Collin, our server, reasoned that there were other customers but, spread about in different dining areas, it only felt empty.

Perhaps. But O’Connor’s without the commotion of a friendly crowd, any day of the week, in any corner of the place, felt a bit spooky. Especially as St. Patrick’s Day approached.

Shrugging that off, we got on with our meal and I ordered a Dougal’s Braveheart Scotch Egg appetizer. It’s an unusual menu item, but we’d enjoyed Scotch eggs at Samuel Slater’s Restaurant in Webster and were ready to sample O’Connor’s.

Minutes later, Collin returned to apologetically inform me that the kitchen was out of Scotch eggs. “How about Shillelagh Sticks, instead?” he suggested.

O’Connor’s Shillelagh Sticks are one of their more shareable appetizers, but corned beef hash wrapped in puffed pastry had never really worked for me. I was ready to skip the appetizer entirely till Collin recommended clam chowder. Perfect!

My friend had already ordered his favorite, their ‘Famous Butternut Bisque’. Served in a heavy ceramic mug with a bag of oyster crackers, the color of his steaming-hot bisque was as radiantly orange as the autumn sun setting over a pumpkin patch. Its flavor was sweet and nutty, reminiscent of my favorite Thanksgiving meal side dish swirled with a shot of heavy cream.

Many Bay Staters demand their chowder pudding thick. I prefer it brothier; more like how they make it in Rhode Island. O’Connor’s was perfectly poised between the two; creamy-rich and studded with plenty of chunks of soft potato. In terms of flavor, though, salt dominated. True, most spoonfuls turned up a bit of clam meat, but the clam flavor we crave and, indeed, the other ingredients in the classic chowder recipe had been overpowered by salt.

Chowder disenchantment was soon vanquished by my entrée, Dublin Lamb Pie. Served in a round baking dish topped with a golden-brown pastry crust garnished with a pastry flower, it was shiny and gorgeous. And when I cracked it open with my fork, rich brown gravy, piping-hot, was packed with large chunks of tender lamb meat, soft onion and celery chunks, parsnip and mushrooms. All remarkably delicious, but that gravy! The menu called it a ‘savory herb wine sauce’; in the capable hands of this chef, it was an alchemy of perfectly balanced flavors that supported the perfectly mild lamb.

I don’t consider myself the ‘meat and brown gravy’ type. But this meal had me dipping forkfuls of mashed potato into my bowl to get every last bit. A further indulgence was my glass of Samuel Smith Chocolate Stout. This British brew was more Hershey-chocolaty and thinner than our local stouts, keeping it subservient to the flavor profile of the lamb pie and, perhaps, providing a hint of dessert.

My friend continued his meal with another of his O’Connor’s favorites, their ‘Famous & Enormous Beef, Mushroom & Guinness Pie.’ Enormous? Think puff pastry personal flotation device. It’s a classic stew of carrots, onions, potatoes in a Guinness infused gravy strewn with chunks of beefy stew meat. All cloaked under an acre of crisp flaky filo dough baked golden brown. No doubt, there are folk who could finish the entire pie. But half of his went home in one of their take-out boxes.

After cleaning our table, Collin told us that he had just recently started waiting on tables, and enthusiastically related O’Connor’s lore; the annual expansions grew the place from tiny to sprawling and of the one Sunday per year that they open for business. 

This reminded me of all the dinners and friends we’ve enjoyed at O’Connor’s Restaurant in past decades; Brendan O’Connor was always able to find us a table when the place seemed impossibly packed. He might be gone from his post at the control booth, but the restaurant is still crammed with all the memorabilia lovingly cared for, the menus mostly the same, and the food and drink are as good as ever.