Despite going to Ireland a decade ago and having a number of very good meals, I admit that I still wonder if the term "Irish Bistro" is a positive for sales. If English cooking was until recently a flavorless joke, Irish cuisine was the same joke with even fewer luxuries. Until the late 80s the sum total of fine restaurants in the country must have been a dozen or fewer located in upscale hotels like
this or
this (both of which we went to, incidentally; the latter had been visited by my wife's grandfather 40 years earlier). And the newer restaurants we encountered in Ireland-- the kind opened by young people who'd gone off to school in England or America, had their eyes opened to world cuisine, and come back home to open the first good restaurant in their town-- were mostly aiming to be continental restaurants, maybe making an effort to reflect the local products (seafood and dairy, mainly) but also to show the same sophistication as comparable restaurants anywhere in the world, and often in the same ways, so that there was relatively little that was distinctively Irish about the meals we had.
Breakfast, usually fixed at our B&B by the proprietress, was a resoundingly Irish meal, real oatmeal and bacon and sausages (including black pudding) and Kellogg's Corn Flakes. It was generally quite wonderful, though it was a relief the time one of our hostesses announced "I figure you're probably sick of oatmeal and sausages, so I made French toast." But dinner could as easily have been in Vermont or Carmel, the cute little place in the cute little tourist town with the nice young couple running it, anywhere in the world.
All of which is by way of saying that Mrs. Murphy & Sons Irish Bistro seems more Irish than any dinner restaurant I ate at in Ireland, if the definition is a cuisine which does contemporary things with the kinds of ingredients you'd plausibly expect to find locally in Ireland (as opposed to Italy or Israel).
The location is a former funeral parlor, whose Disney-gothic touches are ideal for conjuring up the feel of one of those Edwardian hotel restaurants mentioned above. There's a large antique bar complete with fireplace (Ireland being a land obsessed with methods of indoor heating-- it's one of the first questions they ask a visitor, what form of heat you have at home), and then a slightly too-narrow but attractive dining room; there are also apparently much larger rooms upstairs replete with stained glass, and I suspect party business in this town of aggressive Irish-American and Notre Dame self-identification is a big part of the business plan, though it would be a shame if Mrs. Murphy & Sons only drew a conservative, sports bar clientele, the food is quite a bit better than that.
They started by bringing a basket of breads including a slightly sweet brown bread, a sourdough and little dill rolls (unnecessarily, and slightly oddly, precut in half). I skipped the obligatory Guinness-and-cheese soup (one of the few touches of excessive blarney on the menu) and instead started with a nicely balanced crab and corn chowder, featuring visibly real chunks of crab and potato. The bread was put to good use finishing this off.
For an entree I had slices of duck breast, served to an ideal pink medium-rare in a cardamom-clove sauce, with a tasty potato-prune galette and (the one dish that was a bit off) too heavily salted wilted swiss chard. Sweetish rather than savory, a little Olde English Christmas-y even, it all seemed plausible enough as where Irish cuisine could have gone in the decade since I was there. I didn't especially need dessert, and took most of it home, but an apple crisp with (very lightly) whiskey-flavored ice cream was pleasant enough. The primary dessert choice at other tables seemed to be bread pudding, which I needed at that point about as much as I needed a Malnati's deep dish with sausage or a Taco Town pizza crepe chili bag. (As it happens, they serve pizzas, too. Well, it is a bar as well.)
I didn't pay much attention to the wine list, but the beer list was quite good-- certainly larger than any beer list I saw in Ireland, which when I visited at least was still dominated by the big breweries (maybe the Campaign for Real Ale has reached there by now) and your choices were almost always limited to Guinness, Murphy's and one foreign lager which escapes me at the moment (it wasn't Heineken, but it was something about as common). (Of course, being "limited" to freshly tapped, not-excessively-chilled Guinness hardly counts as hardship.) I ordered a stout made by a brewery called O'Hara's which was very much like Guinness but with a slight extra hint of spice, and enjoyed it.
All in all, a nice place, better than it has to be, worth trying even by those allergic to Irish blarney in America, and contrary to the unfortunate headline with which this thread is saddled:
Mrs. Murphy & Sons - Reasonable