Mulligan’s Irish Pub

267 Madison Ave., Manhattan (Murray Hill)

If you were overwhelmed with hunger, the pangs producing booming atonal shrieks from your gut like a bad Ladysmith Black Mambazo cover band, what’s the worst thing that you would eat?

Well friends and neighbors, The Nachos Brothers found the answer to that question at Mulligan’s Irish Pub.

You know you’re in for a craptacular plate of nachos when you see the following:

  • They call the dish “Supreme Nachos” yet it has less than 5 toppings (including cheese)
  • The meat options are burp-through-burlap-flavored chicken or gastro-mangling chili
  • Multi-colored chips. As welcoming a sight as a rainbow of used condoms on your hotel room pillow
  • Jalapeños promised, jalapeños not given. (a total dick move if there ever was one)
  • Salsa and guacamole come in orphanage-sanctioned plastic condiment cups…PLACED ON TOP THE NACHOS!
  • And to make this curry fart in the elevator ride of an order worse, much of the cheese went uncooked.

If your handsome heroes weren’t so famished that we weren’t looking at each other’s noses like exotic deviled eggs, we would’ve walked away. But we didn’t. We ate it. Almost all of it. And it was bad. Simply put, these weren’t nachos as much as they were HATEchos. Constructed with hate. And digested with hate.

Can we say anything nice about this experience at Mulligan’s? Well, the stools were sturdy and held our meaty frames with aplomb. But as far as nachos goes, they sucked donkey balls and should be avoided at all costs.

Nachometer: 2/10


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