But there were just so many distractions at the Titted Tilted Kilt ... more TVs than I am years old, for example and nary an empty inch of wall space, because they're all mounted with framed snaps of burly, red-faced Irishmen in kilts. Playing the bagpipes. There are nearly two dozen beers on tap and two bars. It's loud, it's big and the windows to 16th Street were open, so the poor girls were shivering. And you know what that means. Right.
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Anyway, the menu, as you might expect, is pub grub -- a plastic page-flipping board of nachos and clam strips; salads with chicken or steak; "big arse" burgers (and one "skinny arse" burger") and a double "arse burger"; chicken tenders and chicken wings; sandwiches stacked with pastrami or pulled pork or shaved rib-eye; individual-sized pizza; and things like Gaelic chicken, braised sausages with onions and peppers; and shepherd's pie, which arrived in a deep saucepan with a thick crust of mashed tubers. Lots of them, like the whole of Idaho's potato crop. And that was about it for the shepherd's pie. On the upside, the housemade potato chips were good -- really good -- and the burger was fat and juicy.
But, come on: This isn't the kind of stomping ground that you're going to frequent for the food.
Liar.
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