Spotted this via EV Grieve, and it predictably made my blood boil. I'm not that familiar with the work of food critic Sam Sifton, but his frothy-mouthed handjob review of Daniel Boulud's lamentably-named eatery, DBGB has just enough lame and lazy allusions to vintage punk rock to make me want to pry out his eyeballs with a butter knife. Maybe the food is indeed sublime at this place, but I'd sooner eat out of a toilet bowl.
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