The Institute had decided to close out the summer with a showing of Old School at Red Rocks. Unfortunately, to get to the Morrison Inn (301 Bear Creek Avenue in Morrison) in time to sufficiently prepare ourselves for one of the greatest movies of all time, we had to head…
I miss Mee Yee Lin — the old Mee Yee Lin on West Alameda Avenue, the little dim sum place where I first ate crispy fried intestine, where I could linger over a late lunch in a homey American cafe as envisioned by a transplanted Chinese family. But that Mee…
After dark, this stretch of 22nd Street can be rough. The sidewalks are unlit, every open space is a parking lot, and the storefronts are shattered, boarded up. On the walls, the tags run together like tribal voodoo — less artistic than furtive, a secret language spelled out in whispers…
I’ve got Chris Golub from Swimclub32 on the phone, just back from a trip to Spain with his partner, Grant Gingerich. Chris is in fine form, talking a mile a minute, excited by just about everything under the sun. “So we’re talking to the guy, and we’re like, ‘Man, can…
During college, I studied in Spain for a semester and then backpacked through Europe for a month with a ragtag group of ramblers from the university I’d attended. The trip included a lot of walking, train riding, museum/church exploring and experiencing the different cultures of Europe (e.g., drinking wine in…
It’s that most beautiful time of year when guys can disappear for up to 72 hours without too much questioning from the women in our lives. It’s that beautiful time when we can go to skin clubs or Hooters without even a bachelor party as an excuse. That time when…
The worst thing about barbecue is waiting for it. I hit Sam Taylor’s Bar-B-Q during a shift change last week, and I had to wait fifteen whole minutes — which is about fourteen whole minutes longer than I’m comfortable waiting for anything. I have what you might call an impulse-control…
There’s one thing you’ll never want for at Ocean: service. On a Thursday night, dozens of bodies are on the floor — servers and bussers and runners in pale-blue chambray and black, captains in shirts and silk ties, managers of every description. Three tenders and a barback in the pit…
Chef Troy Guard is holding forth on his restaurant philosophy. It’s pretty simple. “The way I look at it,” he says, “you do the same amount of work doing twenty dinners a night as you do doing 250 dinners a night. So why not do the place that does 250…
You’re not in Kansas anymore, honey. In a tourist town like Vail, how can service people who rely on tips afford to be rude? Not all of them are, of course, but when I asked the Tap Room’s bartender to add a shot to my drink (because the original pour…
The Blue Bonnet (457 South Broadway) and I have shared a few life-defining moments. The bar here was the scene of several early dates and setups, with results ranging from “Thank God guys don’t really need women” to “Where the hell are my pants?” And at other times, a loud…
From the outside, Pesce Fresco looks like just another strip-mall Italian joint shoved between nail salons and auto-parts stores. Even inside, it looks like so many similarly themed, similarly imagined restaurants: mustard-yellow walls and dark upholstery comforting in their commonness; reproduction Taittinger prints and posters advertising things that once were…
As if I don’t already have enough chef Troy Guard/Sullivan Group stuff kicking around in print, here’s another tidbit. In a recent conversation, spin mistress Leigh Sullivan let it slip that she’d just been on the phone checking on dance lessons for Troy, her husband.. “Seriously? Dance lessons? What for?”…
Word came down from Washington, D.C., last week: No more horse slaughterhouses in the United States. To which most people responded, “Are there horse slaughterhouses in the United States?” Yes, there are. Three of them. All owned by foreign companies that are slaughtering tens of thousands of horses a year…
Life is full of small pleasures and little joys. Sometimes, they’re all you get. The bad stuff is big, often overwhelming, frequently spinning madly out of control. Focus on it and you’d think the whole universe is going to hell. What with wars and disasters, tragedies both personal and global,…
There are a lot of very cool things about living in Denver. The availability of cheap tacos and Mexican Coca-Cola (see my review of El Coyotito #3). The ready access to excellent sushi and cheeseburgers and pho and menudo and kitfo and Chinese dumplings and tandoori — sometimes all within…
When I walk into a bar, I always ask the bartender for his or her specialty drink. This is the equivalent of asking a waiter to suggest the best thing on the menu, and most of the time, the tactic results in a very good cocktail. At a divier locale,…
The next round of Nobel Peace Prizes may finally be money for the Institute of Drinking Studies. Nearly every Saturday and Sunday morning, we find ourselves wishing to hasten the end of the world — which obviously is nigh, if you read those Left Behind novels or live in northern…
El Coyotito #3 (see review) is a real Mexican restaurant — all tacos and menudo, sopas de mariscos and sad accordion music on the juke. Lola, on the other hand, is a very fake Mexican restaurant that, in being fake, has earned the freedom to be so much more. In…
At first, the most surprising thing about Tables is the lines. Big lines that sometimes reach to the door, stretch past it and spill onto the patio, lines that break and become clusters of neighbors squeezed too tightly around four-top cafe tables, gatherings of friends on the sidewalk and nearby…
They’re already setting up the road signs, laying out the hurricane fence, rolling in the trailers and cordoning off huge swaths of Civic Center Park in anticipation of this year’s Taste of Colorado. And yeah, yeah — I know there’ll be music and art and culture and people selling custom…
When was the last time you had one of those days that made you wish you’d never been born? You know the kind of day I’m talking about. You get up early because you can’t be late for work. Despite waking up with a crick in your neck so bad…
