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The menu is tiny-- one fish option, one pasta, a rocking burger, two salads, etc. The decor is minimal, which serves to lovingly recognize the beautiful old bar and dark woodwork that Tavern on Dean never quite understood. The apple pie is outstanding, and the fries still resemble potatoes. The staff is green, to say the least, but they will get better.
Smith's menu seems to reflect the new Brooklyn standard of good food made well-- a simpler dining option, consciously removed from the decedent and overly sauced Spotted Pig. (He brought along the deviled eggs though, and thank goodness for that.)
The best part? Dean Street is eons away from anything else. It's a little gem just off Atlantic (the dodgy end) that aims to serve locals without pomp. Let's go back soon.
**That salad photo is not from Dean Street, but I didn't bring my camera and there isn't another photo to be found! Why is no one writing about this place? Lovely Day: on the pulse.
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