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Packed with hangdog bankers, Todd English’s mediocre gastropub restaurant is a clichéd finance man’s haunt. While the pub pie, featuring a harissa-laced crust and fork-tender lamb, was simple and satisfying, other dishes felt like overkill. The signature burger was hyperaccessorized with too many toppings, and fried “carpetbagger” oysters would have been fine without the extraneous addition of raw beef. Regressive recession indulgences rule the dessert menu—see the very McDonald’s fried apple turnover—and not in a good way.