Even the simplest of plans can spiral into grandiosity — after all, Darryl Dawkins claims he was just letting players know he was somebody when he named his first dunk “Your Mama”, but eventually he had to inform them he was also a Chocolate Thunder flyin’, glass flyin’, Robizine cryin’, parents cryin’, babies cryin’, glass still flyin’, rump roasting, bun toasting, thank you wham ma’am I am’…man. Building a rump roaster of their own, St. Anselm.
Featuring an ultra-lacquered front bar, a curvy, jigsaw-esque slatted ceiling, fixtures made of table saw blades, and walls of exposed brick/barnyard wood covered with photos of the owners grandpa and more vintage saws, Anselms’ a wildly rustic hat trick from the owner of nearby Fette Sau and Spuyten Duyvil, originally conceived as a simple hot dog joint that quickly streamrolled into into a temple of meat excess rivaled only by Lex Steele’s pants. Things start weird with the “nasty bits” menu, which features beer battered brain, marrow poppers, fried gizzard confit, veal heart steak, and Skin 3 Way (cotina, cracklin’, & chicharron), while hot dogs are avail griddled & topped with gravy/kraut/peppers/onions/cheese sauce, or deep fried, wedged into split pizza bread, and topped with peppers, onions, and fried potatoes, a style as popular in Newark as not murdering people isn’t. The everyday menu’s rounded out by gravy burgers, egg plates, fried meatballs, and corned lamb hash w/ fried bread, but blue plates offer variety like Wednesday’s Neck Bones a la Venitian, Friday’s fish fry, and Sunday’s Chicken a la King, fitting, as eating it’s a total beatdown on your stomach.
In addition to a heavy selection of bottles both brew and vino, the 8 identical taps are each capable of spouting beer or wine, the latter of which’ll be covered by Red Hook Winery’s Chardonnay and Brooklyn brusco, which is a mean sparklin’, teen sparklin’, chest burnin’, woman yearnin’, copulatin’, fridge raidin’…wine.
355 Metropolitan Ave. (at Havemeyer St.), Brooklyn, NY, +1-718-384-5054