It's always important to honor one's heritage, which is probably the real reason Mel Gibson keeps trying to get arrested. Honoring a slightly less-criminal lineage, Paddy O'Fegan's.
From a first-generation Irish-American, POF is a towering temple to the Emerald Isle's most notoriously awesome pastime, with Kelly green walls decked with hurling sticks and b/w photos of the owner's grandparents on the fireplace'd "Irish side", and old sports pages and stadium photos on the more sports bar-ish "Chicago side", which usually just gets you an extra tub of nacho cheese. The comestibles range from fried finger foods like corned-beef-stuffed reuben rolls, and green beans with secret "Paddy's Sauce", to Irish classics including lamb-studded shepherd's pie, and heaping plates of bangers and mash, also an upcoming Mark-Paul Gosselaar/Breckin Meyer vehicle about two sausage salesmen who play by their OWN rules. Refreshment ranges from certain ubiquitous Irish stouts to pours of Metropolitan Flywheel and Westmalle Tripel, plus there're specialty 'tails like a lemon/cucumber vodka/cilantro joint called the Jumpin' Round Da Garden, a subtle reminder that tomorrow you may be in a greenHouse of Pain.
An elevated area in the SE corner will double as a stage for tunes both Irish and not, and stay tuned for a shuttle providing transport to Cubs, Sox, and Blackhawks games dubbed the Paddy Wagon, not the first time one'll be filled with people who've over-honored their Irish heritage.