Colin Farrell tastes good (and comes cheap)

I fell in love with Colin Farrell sometime between Minority Report and S.W.A.T. His rugged-yet-charming bad boy charisma won me over, and my appreciation for the Irishman has endured despite movies like Alexander, Daredevil and Miami Vice. (The more-recent In Bruges has helped.) So, when I found out that Murphy’s Law Bar & Grill had unveiled a new breakfast menu featuring items named after famous Irishman, including Colin, I knew I had to taste this delicious man for myself.

My boyfriend forgives my lust for Colin Farrell. His female equivalent is Olivia Wilde, who plays 13 on House and ironically has dual citizenship between the U.S. and Ireland. So, armed with hunger and our lust for the Irish, we traveled to Murphy’s Law on Flamingo Road, just east of Maryland Parkway, for a little afternoon breakfast.

The revamped breakfast menu features eight items, all named after famous Irishmen: Bono, Van Morrison, Pierce Brosnan, Liam Neeson, Aidan Quinn, Gabriel Byrne, Peter O’Toole and my man Colin Farrell. (Unfortunately, they add an extra L to his first name, which might be enough to cause one hell of a bar fight, if the bad boy ever finds out a small bar in Vegas is using his name to sell breakfast.)

Arguably, there are more famous Irish people they could have included. Say, James Joyce, Michael Flatley and the leprechaun on the Lucky Charms box. If they opened up their menu to include items named after females, Sinead O’Connor would surely be worthy of a meal – a veggie burger on a sesame-seedless bun, maybe. Celtic rockers The Cranberries would also make a great seasonal item in the fall.

My man Colin Farrell is pineapple, banana, cottage cheese, granola, raisins and brown sugar wrapped in a tortilla. The concoction proves to be delicious, but not at all fitting with Farrell’s image. The man has had a sex tape, been to rehab and littered tabloids with his female exploits. Colin Farrell is not supposed to be good for you.

Perhaps Colin’s item should be switched with Bono’s. The philanthropic U2 frontman, born Paul Hewson, is a thick layer of crunch peanut butter and banana between two slices of white bread hand-dipped in batter, fried golden and drizzled with chocolate syrup. The item won’t save you from a heart attack, let alone save the world - much more fitting for the Phonebooth star.

Our Murphy’s Law waitress agrees that the edible Colin Farrell isn’t quite a match with the living, breathing one. “It should be drenched in whiskey,” she suggests, before adding that she prefers my boyfriend’s breakfast of choice: the Aidan Quinn.

Grilled ham, fried egg, Swiss cheese, grilled turkey, bacon, fried egg and American cheese served on a hamburger bun. The waitress tells us its nickname is “the hangover cure.” Meanwhile, I wonder when the dish will appear on the blog This Is Why You’re Fat.

The lesson in excess proves too tall for my boyfriend to easily wrap his mouth around. He splits it in half to make two open-faced sandwiches. He says the sandwich is filling and tasty. I guess he really likes meat. Neither one of us can figure out what Aidan Quinn’s been in or why his breakfast item should be piled so high. (Wikipedia tells us he’s Benny from Benny and Joon.) Hm.

The only complaint, really, is that the Aidan, Colin and friends are a bit hidden. Murphy’s Law’s lunch items are more expensive, less delicious and not nearly as humorous as the breakfast ones, so both our noon and 2 p.m. trips involve us asking to see the breakfast menu. It’s a minor inconvenience, but unfortunate for anyone not already familiar with the menu.

Plus, this is Vegas. Two in the afternoon on a Saturday is breakfast time. At least, for me and Colin.