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Stop and think about
the name of this place for a second. Does this sound appetizing to
anyone? I think of a giant, hump-backed beast with bristles lining
its back and those yellow inverted teeth sticking out of its lower
jaw. But maybe that's just me. All retarded allusions aside, this
joint, which is somehow related to Mario Batali and his sensitive
red ponytail, is like walking into a British eating pub, complete
with the cask ale and the random crap (mostly pigs) strewn all over
the place. It's like being in England with a much better looking crowd
and a lot less smoke. And boy do those crowds just keep on coming.
Trying to get into this place between the hours of 7:30 and 11:00PM
is tantamount to wiping your ass with a small square of mylar. Granted,
you will get in eventually (after dealing with the somehow calm guy
taking names), and then you WILL order the Roquefort burger. And,
along with the abundant and awesome shoestring fries, your drunk ass
will be so happy, you will want to come back the next day to order
it again. This place is quite the scene, but it's somehow mellow and
friendly in a way that some other popular downtown spots aren't. Maybe
I'm just unobservant, and didn't notice like a large tourist contingent
or something, but even the hipster with his half-grown beard and green
New Balance guarding the door is down to earth. It really is no wonder
everyone and his sister wants to crowd into this joint on a daily
basis. And, remember, just eat the burger--the $15 burger. [MF]
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