Even discounting the countless plastic-Paddy pubs that have sprouted all over Boston, our city boasts a wealth of genuine Celtic hangouts. But for all their fiddling, their crowds, and their shepherd’s pies, these places overlook a pub’s true function: to be a pleasant place to drink. The Brendan Behan is dark, wooden, and lovingly worn. There’s no food, meaning no obnoxious “dining-only” seating, and the Irish barkeeps pull a slow, well-constructed Guinness. Aside from the odd band or book reading, conversation is what draws the clientele—which is neither undergraduate nor overpaid.