Patrons who enter Llywelyn’s Pub (6995 W. 151st, Overland Park), are immediately immersed in a classic, Celtic pub, celebrating the food and drink of Ireland, Scotland and Wales. The restaurant’s concept made its way from Europe to Old Stanley, Kan., by way of Missouri’s Interstate 70. The first Llywelyn’s Pub was in the Central West End area of St. Louis. Two more of these pubs opened in the St. Louis area before Llywelyn’s opened in our town on July 17, 2007. Note to St. Louis: go ahead and send Albert Pujols up I-70, while you are at it.
Not just any restaurant space would support the Celtic pub motif, but owner Eric Pritchett clearly gave considerable thought to the décor. The place has a comfortable, intimate feel — despite the high ceilings and brass, saloon chandeliers. Dark wooden tables, dark hardwood floors, and rust colored walls underscore the cozy feel. The bar area takes up about half the place, and a dining area takes up the other half. As night wears on, Llywelyn’s often becomes a haven for live music, and a wilder crowd; but by day and early evening, folks of all sorts swarm the place. During one visit for dinner, we watched the Swiss Family Robinson enjoy a meal in the middle of the dining room, while the cast of Sex and the City drank their meal on the fringe of the bar area, three steps up from the dining area. The apparent membership of a Ramones tribute band wandered in just as we completed our meal.
Pub food is heavily rooted in appetizer fare. Pub Pretzels ($3, $5.50, $7.50 for one, two and three, respectively), were not monumentally different from the ball park cuisine, though they were fresher tasting and were brushed with a nice garlic butter. A creamy and flavorful pepper cheese sauce (laced with small bits of jalapeno), was served alongside. The skin on top of the cheese suggested it may have been sitting, for a bit, before it was served to us. Welsh Potato Chips ($2.99, $3.99) were a very good, crispy version of homemade chips (to which I was compelled to add a shake of salt). They were served with a choice of the solid pepper cheesensauce, or rarebit (a pale, yellow Guinness cheddar cheese sauce that was somewhat heavy on the Guinness).
Chicken wings are a “bellwether” dish for American bars and European pubs, alike. We tried the Dragon Wings ($7.99), a full pound served with original or extra spicy “Dragon’s Breath” Sauce. The original-flavored wings were of moderate size, and the small drummie was separated from the wing portion, as is common in most places. Coated with a rather basic and standard buffalo sauce, the original wings were fairly spicy. The extra spicy version likely packs a serious wallop.
Some folks still harbor the mistaken belief that the Reuben sandwich is somehow an Irish dish. The iconic sandwich was likely invented in the early part of the 20th Century by prominent New York delicatessen owner Arnold Reuben, though some believe it was created a number of years later in Omaha, by a Lithuanian grocer. Notwithstanding the sandwich’s contrary origins, this Celtic pub deemed the Llywelyn’s Reuben ($9.29) a restaurant signature dish, and with fairly good reason. The thick, lean and tender corned beef rested amid three slices of nice marble rye (one in the middle), with plenty of kraut, thousand island and (in an odd twist) white cheddar in lieu of the more traditional Swiss cheese. Though there was a decent helping of the superior corned beef, it was not piled high like it would have been in a prominent New York deli — like Arnold Reuben’s now-defunct place, presumably.
An excellent and hearty option was the Famous Steak and Cheese ($11.59), with delicious, tender, marinated chunks of flank steak served atop a giant hoagie-style roll, smothered with the pepper cheese sauce and a mound of fried onions. The waiter asked how I wanted the steak cooked — unusually astute for a casual pub. It came out a perfect medium, as ordered. The flavorful Llywelyn Burger ($8.29), a thick six-ounce burger, was also cooked as one friend ordered it (dead on medium well), and was topped with fried onions and a choice from a broad array of cheeses. The Famous Steak and Cheese and the Llywelyn Burger were also identified as restaurant specialties — again, with fairly good reason.
We ventured reluctantly into the seafood realm, as well. Fish and Chips ($9.99) — the better choice of the two sampled dishes from the sea — is an English pub classic. Llywelyn’s version included two long, hefty pieces of flaky white fish in a batter that was only marginally crunchy. The fish came with a house-made tartar sauce that was not overwhelmed with too much relish, like some versions. Traditional pub fare is not, by design, geared to the light salad crowd. Still one dining companion opted for a designated “new” menu item, a Salmon Sandwich ($9.95). The fairly unremarkable 6-ounce portion was grilled to about medium, with only a slight grilled flavor, and was served atop a toasted whole wheat bun. I understand the need and compulsion for restaurants (and pubs) to offer an array of culinary choices. But one should generally refrain from ordering a steak at The Bristol, or McCormick and Schmick‘s, if at all possible. And a wise diner avoids salmon (and other such light or misplaced fare) at a sturdy, Celtic pub.
As we left the restaurant one night, we noticed that the Swiss Family Robinson was ordering dessert. The Sex and the City group was paying its tab. Joey Ramone had just bitten into an enormous sandwich covered with cheese sauce, of some sort. And the “wild” crowd had not even arrived, yet, for the night.
Food: 3 stars
Atmosphere: 3 1/2 stars
Service: 3 stars
Out of Four Stars