We're not fooled, DBGB. It's pretty apparent what's going on here. Someone, maybe even Daniel Boulud himself, rolled into The Spotted Pig a few months back and thought, "This is a great idea. How can I screw it up?"
If that doesn't quite paint the picture in your mind, allow me to elaborate. Imagine Restoration Hardware served food, and someone was handing out flyers all over the Upper East Side promoting this hot new furniture store/restaurant downtown where you can bring your second wife after she gets sick of Per Se. Lots of midlife crises on display in this buzzy new Bowery restaurant.
DBGB is definitely an attempt at the gastro pub model - a few burgers on the menu, twenty-some-odd beers on tap, and some fancy things with duck egg thrown in so you don't forget who's running the place. The beers are all micro-brews from around the world - again, very "gastro pub", but few are good, and even fewer are reasonably priced. The menu is way too big, and the food was a huge letdown. So much so, that we didn't manage to finish a single dish we ordered...not even the desserts they comped us as penance for the entrees showing up just minutes after the appetizers. There must have been twelve waiters assigned to our table, and I'm not sure there was one moment of peace without some asshole wiping down the table, re-folding a napkin, or erroneously delivering a third order of fries. What's that? There is a great beer I have to try that tastes like coffee? Get out of my face, I am trying to eat a tiny crab cake.
I'll walk you through it in the food rundown, but the only way I can explain all the rave reviews for DBGB is that by the time you actually sit, you've likely had five pints of beer with the equivalent alcohol percentage of jungle juice. After that, sure, the fourteen dollar asparagus and duck egg appetizer probably seems edible.
Another steak - this one a flat iron steak with vegetables. The meat was middle of the road at best, lacking flavor. The vegetables were soft and mushy. Another dish left unfinished at the table.
Fourteen bucks for fried egg and asparagus? Must have been all that duck prosciutto in there, and by "all that duck prosciutto", I mean that little tiny piece of duck prosciutto. Not good, not worth it.
This was the only thing that we ordered that didn't create rage inside me. It's a decent but small crab cake with a curry sauce and an avocado-mango puree.
Here we are again with a fifteen dollar item...a "banger" the size of a normal bratwurst. In fairness, it was tasty, but Jimmy Dean pulls this off at ten for a dollar in your local freezer section.
I don't speak French, but after having this, I am convinced that "au pistou" means, "in lake water". This was a wet piece of skate swimming in a pale green soup that tasted faintly like curry and algae.
The fries were actually good, the steak....whatever. Go to Raoul's if you're looking for a good steak frites.
This was one of the two comped desserts that came to the table after we paid -a peace offering since our entrees arrived at the table ten minutes after the appetizers. It was essentially a small donut that had been dropped in a bucket of Captain Morgan's and pulled out two days later. It was inedible and tasted like a straight shot of rum. Our waiter asked what we thought, and when we told him it was way too strong he said "I know! I love the boozy desserts". You are awful.
We were told this was an ice cream sundae made to taste like beer. It sort of tasted like Dairy Queen made a Blizzard out of warm Bud Light and gummi bears.