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This venue is closed.
There are a few places on the East Side with this name, each as small as your first-or current-apartment, each looking like it was built in two days, each routinely buffed to a high Formica shine, and each with a menu big enough to daunt the banquet kitchen at the Marriott Marquis. Ignore all of them but the one at this address. However, you don't really need a menu. Instead, ask for a vegetarian omelette with fresh turkey in the morning. At any other time of day, order one of the best "greasy spoon"—no slur intended—burgers you can find in this burg. In the last few years, one high beef palace after the other has played can-you-top-this?, stuffing beef patties, jamming them with foie gras, short ribs, mascarpone, keys to a Lincoln Navigator. Almost all are amazing to behold, startling to taste. But they are not hamburgers! This is a hamburger, as it was meant to be. On a toasted bun. Washed down with a fizzy Diet Coke. And you can afford to pay for it in cash.
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