Ah, O'Connell's: lit low, as if it were one of Stanley Kubrick's candlelight scenes in Barry Lyndon, lovely exposed brick on the south wall, and the booths' dark wood paneling. Foursquare, reliable as rain in the springtime. An umber state of mind. O'Connell's doesn't need to serve food to maintain its lock on top-drawer-saloon status; that it does only enhances its claim to greatness. Of course it's the fabled O'Connell's hamburger that rightly garners the highest praise, but the burger's natural side dish is equally aces here. O'Connell's' fries are perfectly rendered -- never greasy, never fried in old oil, never one left on the plate when you leave.