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It is the goal of every reviewer to write a piece so glowing, so unabashedly one-sided, that the establishment itself is irreparably damaged.That it will be doomed to cater to every gawking foodie and trendhead clutching the review in their clammy hands, ready to surrender themselves to gastric nirvana. They tip 10 per cent and push out the locals, leaving a husk of wistful memories.

A really great review is not unlike the edamame-sized spiders that crawl into your ears and deposit eggs at the top of your spinal cord that will eventually hatch and feast on your insides like a palling, sallow buffet. With that in mind, open your mind and ears my friend.

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The first thing I noticed upon entering Hawkeyes was the protean, neo-boho chic atmosphere. It had all the fixtures of your typical upscale dining location, such as tables, chairs, and kitchen. However, the lighting, neon VLTs, and pool table all playfully suggested that my dining experience would be more akin to a sojourn to the friendly neighbourhood pub rather than the lavish slathering of hospitality one receives at The Keg Steakhouse and Bar, the Sawmill Steakhouse, or the Housesteak Millsaw. As is the trend, there are no reservations, so arrive early. Take lunch a little early and show up around 11 a.m. to beat the rush. Your boss will understand. After all, you’re going to Hawkeyes.