Much has been made of the hype surrounding the latest endeavor from the folks who brought us both Family Supper and clarklewis. And most of the comments about this "gastropub" have been in the favorable column. If there's a gripe, though, it's GBT's failure to live up to and enliven the tavern motif (in the sawdust-on-the-floor pub, Bud-on-tap sense). But if the name is dead cheeky, the food is dead serious. Chef Tommy Habetz (of ripe reputation) delivers a muscular menu rich in earthy contrasts—succulent salads studded with figs and sour cherries, velvety gnocchi in a pork-seasoned sugo. And the kind of steak that's so taut and chewy you want to pick it up with your bare hands and gnaw, gnaw, gnaw. It's a feast for the senses, but not for the faint of heart or PETA-friendly: Don't be surprised to find duck-liver mousse, blood sausage and venison on the menu. The woodsy-modern decor underscores the kitchen's clear ambition—to wrest Northwest cuisine from its regional cuteness and, in short, give it some balls. (ED)