There’s a colossal amount of stuff I don’t know. Seriously. A lot. And I’m not talking about the specialized, esoteric knowledge that only a few specialized, esoteric people possess. I’m not talking about being able to translate dead languages, suss out the weight of distant stars, or speak at length…
The original Brewery Bar closed right around the time I was born. What information I have about its glory days comes mainly from historical documents, Web archives and the spotty memories of its habitués. It was a beer-soaked neighborhood watering hole that took up residence in the old Tivoli brewery…
I was sitting at my little two-top lonelyheart’s table at Brewery Bar II, nursing an afternoon beer and waiting to hear the perfect song. Something deep and meaningful. Tom Waits, maybe. A cut off Nighthawks at the Diner. Or maybe something from Springsteen’s Nebraska. What I got instead was Poco’s…
After spending an afternoon downing Old Fashions with the ladies who lunch at the Washington Park Grille, I was just like Rhett Butler: I didn’t give a damn about anything else I had to do that day. Rumored to have been created for a retired Confederate general who didn’t care…
In our continuing effort to improve the human race, we here at the Institute for Drinking Studies are eager to answer those questions that all of us have after seven straight hours of drinking. In the aftermath of a very liquid weekend at Govnr’s Park Restaurant (672 Logan Street), Dr…
Here’s some advice for all the aspiring chefs in the crowd. Want a cinch gig in the kitchen? Go to Switzerland, the home of fondue-style cooking. If there’s an easier path to cash for a chef than setting up a fondue joint, I haven’t heard of it. That’s because no…
Okay, so you’ve got this great concept for a nightclub — an Austro-Bulgarian hip-hop joint, some all-Japanese speed-metal sushi bar, whatever — but no place to set up shop. Well, I’ve got good news for you: a zillion square feet just opened up in a prime location at the Denver…
Harking back to my Irish roots (in case you’re interested, Dunn means “brown” in Gaelic) on a blustery fall evening, I headed to Fadó Irish Pub for a stiff drink and comfort food. After settling into a secluded booth not far from the blazing fireplace, I ordered a Screw the…
When purchasing a home, you must consider many points. The location needs to be somewhere you’ll feel safe — and must also have good resale value. When the time comes to sell, it’s difficult to cut a deal if your potential buyers are abducted from the back yard or clipped…
It’s Saturday night and it’s raining — long, vicious sheets of water not just falling, but slapping the ground as if the pavement had said something nasty about the rain cloud’s mother. I’d made the dash from my car to the door in a scuttling hunch — the way you…
They came in the dead of night, ready for war, in a rented minivan. They wore rubber gloves, hats, surgical masks and special-issue combat Birkenstocks, forsaking their customary Phish concert T-shirts and Guatemalan peasant dresses for basic black — the formalwear of today’s fashionable domestic terrorist. They marched in grim…
Fruitcake vendors swear by Christmas, and turkey sellers depend on Thanksgiving. But Phil Kellogg lives for Halloween, which is also National Caramel Apple Day. Phil and his mom, Linda Kellogg, are the folks behind the Daffy Apple, a caramel-coated fruit that’s tickled local fancies every fall for fifty years. But…
In swank locales around the world, it’s common to see distinguished-looking older gentlemen escorting young, buxom blondes. And high in the hills of Aspen last weekend, I found myself a benefactor that took great care of me: the Aspen Sugar Daddy. A specialty at the affluent, Western-style Range, this sweet…
Sitting at the Bull & Bush (4700 Cherry Creek Drive South) with several friends and co-workers, I indulged in my favorite stress-relieving activity outside of directly setting fire to taxpayers’ money: pondering all of life’s difficult questions. My thoughts were even more profound than usual, owing to the fact that…
Oh, I like this. It’s like having dinner in L.A. or something.” I blink, look around the room. “What?” “This place. I like it. It feels like we’re in L.A.” “Or something,” I reply, then lapse back into silence, feeling shifty and uncomfortable while trying — and succeeding, at least…
This just in: Griff’s Burger Bar at 742 South Broadway, for which I just professed my undying love (“Cheeseburgers in Paradise,” October 2), is no longer serving, well, anything. Early last Friday, just a day after my review hit the stands, Griff’s caught fire. It started in the kitchen, quickly…
With seventeen wines by the glass and a fully stocked bar, Max Burgerworks is no greasy spoon. Heck, if all burger joints were this inviting, maybe I wouldn’t be a vegetarian. But you don’t need to like meat to love Max Burgerworks. The other afternoon, I devoured a divine portobello-mushroom…
As if feeling like I had been hit by a Mack truck wasn’t bad enough, I had to wait for coffee on Sunday morning. I am not a patient guy by nature, but few things aggravate me more than amateur coffee drinkers clogging up the line with elaborate orders. For…
In the beginning there was the hamburger, and it was good. Back at the dawn of American cuisine (I’m talking the ’30s — the goddamn Paleozoic Era, foodwise) there was the hamburger, and all things sprang forth from it. Sure, we had our Betty Crockers with their apple brown betties,…
Friday is catfish day at Caro’s Corner (see review, page 71), where five bucks will net you a dozen nuggets. Besides burgers and the odd order of fries, catfish is the only thing that Jeffrey and Linda Patterson — Caro’s cooks, owners and sole employees — offer on their menu…
If you’re remotely familiar with Alcoholics Anonymous, you know that Jake Schroeder isn’t the first out-of-control drinker to trade alcohol for coffee. (There are more java-dependent people at an AA meeting than there are at a Starbucks employee convention.) But few reformed tipplers have taken addiction transferral as far as…
Having moved more than a dozen times over the past ten years, I can say with authority that the best way to settle into a new neighborhood is to visit a local watering hole, a place within walking distance that offers up cheap drinks in a friendly atmosphere. So after…
