Last night, we met some friends at Thirstbaravin (at 629 Classon Avenue in Brooklyn). It was recently reviewed in the New Yorker's "Tables for Two" section; though the review is largely positive, it does depend on observations that some might find offputting, like, "Thanks to its unfortunate location, on a bleak corner between neighborhoods, there is no wait for a table, no tense negotiation with the hostess. ... the place becomes an anti-destination destination."
Maybe so; for us, this was a selling point, but I can see why it might not be a universal lure. Still, given the rate at which New York evolves, it's hard to say how long the "anti-destination" business will hold. The food was good, rich yet simple (have the macaroni -- but not too much of it, because you should also try all of the desserts!). And as the reviewer notes, there's "something almost charming about the stray cats slipping in and out of the overgrown lot next door." The two pictured above were joined by three or four others that were camera-shy ... or perhaps it was that their attention was elsewhere, on the food: what looked like a serving of beef shank or lamb belly (or maybe just bits and bobs cast off in the creation of those meals?) had been plated in a white ceramic bowl just outside a door at the rear of the restaurant.