Yes, that's woodsmoke amid the pizza-joint smells and bus exhaust, a primal, arboreal aroma that feels out of place along this stretch of Greenpoint, Brooklyn.
Flames from a 12-foot-long open fire lick at juicy plucked fowl. Chefs wheel carts heaped with oysters and whelks straight from their work stations to the eagerly awaiting diners.
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