At first glance, this Park Slope gastropub looks more pubby (the gleaming dark-wood bar takes up at least half the space) than gastro. Look beyond what’s offered on tap (it may be tough—the well-edited selection includes favorites like Blue Point Winter Ale), and you’ll find delicious, elevated pub fare. Every meal at this comfortingly masculine spot—with rough-hewn communal tables for dining, and a warm glow thanks to exposed filament bulbs—starts with a small bowl of piping-hot fried chickpeas, an addictive snack that’s a fine complement to your pint. In fact, lots of dishes are fried: Lightly-battered, meaty cuttlefish comes with a chorizo-mayo dip; fish-and-chips are upgraded with flaky skate wing and fingerling potatoes. We also enjoyed yet another unabashedly hearty dish: a starter of meltingly tender braised pork cheeks. The only misstep was the beet ravioli, which were just about drowning in cream sauce. Desserts, however, were surprisingly excellent, especially a moist, cakey puck of toffee-sauce-doused pudding (pictured), spiked with—what else?— Guinness.