Eating Out Tulsa - Everything's Coming Up Dives

Tulsa, you sweet little motherfucker.  I love you and I hate you.  So beautiful and green and lush and so riddled with violent crime. Flirting with me, pretending that your teensiness makes you so easy to maneuver, but you are full of lies as every goddamn street is under construction. You are a city of detours that become endless mazes which refuse to let me leave.  Like Pleasantville, as soon as I reach the end I find I am entering again.  A few years I followed a detour that lead me to an on-ramp that didn't go anywhere.  It just stopped.  I could see the highway in front of me, mocking me.  And while I don't like being fucked with, I respect your brass balls. I could go on an on about how gritty yet cultured you are but we are here to talk food.

Fuck me gently with a chainsaw this is delicious

I have often said that Tulsa succeeds better than most cities in its dives.  Most people do not see this as a compliment because they are stupid and do not understand the complicated mathematics that surround this statement. It must be both severely delicious and extremely cheap without losing it's "keeping it real" ability. A delicate yet precise equation that dances on such a fine line, it is almost impossible to perfect.  But Tulsa does it. Like no other.

Ron's.  Best motherfucking hamburger you will ever have. Period.  My little Denver burger dissertation would be pointless if Ron's was in this game because nothing can compare to it.  Beef meet sausage and cheese. Then meet my mouth.  I would die for you.

Cancun. Best chili verde burrito ever.  There is no place in Denver like it.  No place.  I think about it often.  I miss it. I wish we could get down on some good mexican food in the Denver - but it doesn't happen.  My tongue shames you Denver.

Coney I-lander.  A line forms at 10:30am each morning and continues until it closes.  The best li'l hot dogs you can find. They are different from all the fancy schmancy dogs in big cities, they are little, yellow and different in the best way. The only way to soothe your sorrow, as I know all too well these past few weeks.  Thank you for helping me through my baby mama drama with your processed meat product that comforts as is slides down my gullet.

There are many many many more.  But I haven't the space or the time or the linguistic skills necessary so I will end this little run with the greatest fast food chain this world has ever known.  

Taco (Motherfucking) Bueno.  Dear Jesus, thank you for making Taco Bueno. It is the first place I go when I am in Tulsa. The mexi-dips and chips, the muchacos. The fresh pico bar with onions and jalapenos.  You are my everything when it comes to fast food.  I once heard a rumor that a Taco Bueno opened in Colorado Springs and I was willing to drive the 70 miles just to feel that muchaco sit in my belly like steel for a day. But alas, the dream died when it turned out some motherfucker decided to name some shithole mexican restaurant Taco Bueno when it was in fact not bueno at all. More like Taco Pendejo. And my life was ruined.  Until I went to Tulsa again.  Then it was saved. Thank you Taco Bueno.  You own my soul.

If you happen to read this and think - oh, she likes these so called "dives" because it is all she has ever known in this city and thus, the nostalgia of these places overwhelm her and she cannot see past her own memories, you are a fool.  I did not learn about most of these beautiful bastards until I was an adult. I grew up eatin' fancy.  Why do you think I love me some restauranting so much. I love fancy restaurants.  And yes, I regret that I was 18 the first time I tried Ron's and 24 when I first learned of the greatness that is Cancun.  The point of this is not to tell you what I like best but to tell you what Tulsa knows best and that is how to dive appropriately. Sure, I love the shit out of the Wild Fork - I have made their breakfast hash every christmas morning since 1998.  It is what Jesus and I like to DO together, but any restaurant can be middle of the road or fancy and be divine - it takes a certain kind of special to make a restuarant cheap and delicious and for reals so thank you Tulsa.

Japoix, I have seen you in 10 years and...well, you don't want to know

Japoix - 975 Lincoln Street, (303) 861-2345

Dear Denver, 
Let's get something straight. I have grown tired of your fusion business.  It should not be taken lightly, and like the slider, is everywhere I fucking turn, in this city. Unless you really have created an innovative method of cookery you just look like you were all, one time I worked at this sushi place but got fired so then I got a job at some frenchy place and now I am doing a little of this and a little of that and calling it fusion. Please stop insulting my intelligence by rolling up some steak frites into seaweed and calling it fusion. 

STOP FUSING ME ASSHOLES.

Secondly, Japoix, even though I begin this by saying that your name annoys the shit out of me, I totally dig on your happy hour specials. 

More importantly, I totally dig on your happy hour times. 

4:00 pm – 7:00 pm and 9:00 pm - Close

As much as I would like to say "I'm TOO BUSY READING", 9pm on Saturday = date with me, the couch and Magnum P.I.  Without going into unnecessary explanations,  I think we can all agree his sexiness is ontologically transcendent. From my deceased grandmother to children of the corn, Magnum, (puts the peen in) P.I. I just want him to hold me.  Just for a moment.  PS- I am not talking about Blue Bloods, ratty old Magnum, I want young and short shorts Mag.  All over me.  Anyway, My point is that NORMALLY I AM BUSY on a Saturday night, however, these incredible deals have made me question my rigid yet worthwhile schedule.

For example,  I don't know what an electric french kiss is - but I want it for 50% off!

50% OFF  ALL BEER, HOT SAKE, ELECTRIC FRENCH KISS, THAI

BUTTONHEAD SMASH

50% off all beer isn't some bullshit statement like Linger with its 25% off beer that really means they pour you 25% less beer and whatever I WILL NEVER GET OVER YOU LINGER!

50% off beer is for reals and super great in the deals. 

But this place still saddens me greatly. 

I know what you are Japoix, you are somehow related to Opal.  Like her younger and sluttier sister, who hasn't started showing the signs of aging yet, so much as neglect.

I know that the building Japoix is housed in, the Beauvillon, is notoriously falling apart and the "alleged" luxury apartments were constructed out of adobe and have minutes before they crumble.  The sad condition of this building is obvious in the construction and the design details of Japoix are no exception.  The bathroom door creates the illusion that once open you will be enveloped by glamour and luxury but it is a LIE.  No one cares about this lonely place.  Not one person.  The toilet paper holders have fallen off the walls and no one has bothered to pick them up off the floor.  The locks on the bathroom stalls restlessly dangle as you open and close the stall doors but they are useless. 

So that makes me angry.  To see a multi-million dollar building constructed so fucking carelessly - and to see that carelessness as it travels all the way to the consumer.  It just makes me sad.  Sad for motherfuckery.  I want to punch the owners, architects, project managers, civil and electrical engineers, interior designers, the restaurant owner and even the waitresses and bartenders.  Not one person has the decency to say, we are how we look.  Instead, like the immortal words of Snoop Dog, they whisper, "Ain't no pussy good enough to get burnt while I'm up in it." And yes, that is realer than real-deal HolyField. 

And now you hookers and hos know how I feel.  Good deals but sadness.

I am telling you what this place is becoming.  Like the beginning of those horrible meth commercials - NOT EVEN ONCE GURL. This is Opal's little sister. And Opal looks like shit.

Footnote, I am not confident of the grammatical goings on when making the plural of ho so my apologies.

Masterpiece Deli – Finally, A Masturbatorium For Your Mouth

Masterpiece Deli
1575 Central Street Denver, CO 80211-3920 (303) 561-3354

Sooooooooooooo, I love you Masterpiece Deli. I would marry you, if you weren’t such a slut, serving so many other people than just me.  The first time I ate you, I had what I often refer to as the greatest fucking Cubano in the history of the world.  I have said those words enough that a person or two has dared to beg to differ with me.  I understand. The world does not revolve around my mortal opinions so, to those of you who do not believe that Masterpiece Deli is the greatest Deli in all the land I say to thee: Why don’t you go FUCK YOUR FACE with another sandwich.  I prefer the delightful combination of slow roasted brined pork, genteel ham, aged swiss cheese, dill pickles, yellow mustard, garlic aioli on a shhhhhhh, delicately hearty brioche bun.  I have had the one experience, where the pulled pork wasn’t as pulled as I might prefer. And I understand that is a major problem. The sandwich is so grand, only when everything presents itself perfectly, so that the gorgeous mustardy garlicy saucy stuff permeates through each and every strand of pork, HOWEVER, I still defend this as the greatest Cuban pork sandwich that as ever made love to my lips. 

The Braised Brisket sandwich is pretty bitchin as well. Melt in your mouth bitchin.  This is the kind of sandwich that you savor.  You might find yourself saying something like, “Yes, I have taken a bite, but I cannot simply chew, destroy and swallow. Instead I prefer to allow the brisket ample time to soak into my tongue so it can penetrate my soul through each taste bud.” You might say that. Or you might say something totally different. I don’t speak for you. But I should tell you this.  Each sandwich is a different experience. A momentous flash of exaltation and pure happiness. Or what the kids are calling “totes fuckable”.  I have myself a bestie who knows sandwiches as well as I. And she lives in the city of lost souls, and has taken me to many of the most glamorous of sandwich shops and authentic of delis.  She basically creams her pants every time I mention that she might have another opportunity to eat the Italian sooooooooooooooo I think that says something.

GO THERE


THE END

Rioja - I wanna li-li-li-lick you from your head to your toes

Rioja
1431 Larimer Street
Denver, CO 80202

Wasn't that weekend of the 21st the most perfectly beautiful 3 days of 2011?  Denver, when she wants to, well, she can just blow your balls off can't she?  And she did.  So I thank her. I thank her for giving me one last weekend of glory before filling my backyard with snow.  I thank her for reminding me how much I love her and for giving me the most perfect backdrop for a weekend of dining and drinking and drinking and dining with my super awesome best friends from Black Gold Country.

To recap in as few words as possible. That weekend was perfection, and I took my SABFs to all my favorite places, Z Cuisine, Snooze and Lou's Food Bar. I should review Snooze sometime - but everyone loves it so there is really no need. Here is a short version. I LOVE IT but there is always a 2 hour wait, unless you arrive at 8:30am and it is rare that I find people willing to dine at such an early hour, because the world sleeps. I guess the world does not lie awake each night, trembling in silent anticipation of the next sunrise, knowing that once mother nature shines her warm and comforting sunlight, well that means that goddamn murdering granny/clown/baby disappears again. Yes, I am obsessed with American Horror Story. I cannot stop thinking about it (partly because that Dylan McDermott put the FIT in 50!.  Dear Mr. McDermott, your sobbing while masturbating on camera has given you street cred of which I did not know you deserved, although you are and forever will be my Jackson). And I cannot start thinking about it. Like year-round school it is a never ending cycle of fear and satisfaction that can never be broken. And thus, I am forever fearful, that the clown baby granny ghost that must also live in my house, has plans to fly from the corners of my basement and eat me with its sharp clown teeth while I do laundry at night.  So I am forced, as any rational being would be, to launder during the hours of natural light. Thanks George W. for pushing back Daylight Savings you asshole! There are only like 4 hours of natural light a day right now so THANKS dick. Anyone who denies me, remember this – those gingered twins in the first episode ruined it for the rest of us SO the rest of you can just run along into the abyss of happiness, you brunettes with your silky heads of hair and you too you soft locks of golden sunshine the lord calls the blondes.  Redheads beware! 

Anyway, what was I talking about – Oh right, Rioja.

It was quite glorious.  Glorious in that way where you go somewhere thinking – yeah, this will be pretty good and then you sit down and you are all – what the fuck is Eric’s doughnut and then you bite into one of his nuts and you realize that simple pleasure of the fried bread ball can be quite elegant when coupled with some kind of strawberry business and Chantilly cream – which at first you are all – what kind of asshole has to say chantilly cream. But then you taste the cream with the strawberry and the doughnut and you thank Eric for being so pompous  and thinking he has some divine right to snooty breakfastry because that cream is pretty fucking good and you don’t even like doughnuts, really you just like an excuse to order an appetizer with the first meal of the day.  Then you cannot decide if the duck confit hash will give you what you want – so with a bit of hesitation you ask the waiter, which is better and he assures you that the duck confit is better and you think I know this can go horribly wrong because I have seen it happen, with those who think that bringing duck to breakfast is going to make them seem hip and fauxhemian and in it to win it but it makes you want to punch them but these guys at Rioja fucking win it when it comes to duck before noon because it was the best and yes, there was some kind of pickled beet number on top which I thought was so over the top with these fucking beets but it was the perfect addition to my fork.  Duck, potatoes, eggs, beets, when did you decide to lambada on my fork as I shove you down my gullet?  Do I like to moan at the table? No I don’t. In fact I hate it because it is an involuntary reaction and I do not like to lose control but I am lost in the eyes of you Rioja. I will let your duck make love to my tongue whenever it wants. I have no self control with you.

Opal, ummmmmm something is different.

Opal 

100 East 9th Avenue 

Denver, CO 80203 

(303) 861-7999

A conversation betwixt myself and Opal, while washing my hands in the grodiest bathroom of what was once the loviest restaurant.

"Hey Gurl......uuuuh you ok? The last time I seen you - you was real pretty and full of life and you had big plans and you were all - HEEEEEEY GURL, come eat my kobe sliders, I'm so fancy huh? Now you look like the restaurant version of those meth commercials and you are the girl shivering in the shower all scabby, as you stare into my soul through the camera and say to me - NOT EVEN ONCE.  What the fuuuuuuuuck?"

I visited Opal a few times in the early thousands, before the recession, when expensing fancy lunches was still common. I remember treasuring each bite of kobe beef as it slid slowly and effortlessly down my gullet.  That was the beginning of the end of sliders and that was 8 years ago so remember that people who keep forcing sliders on your menus. The sushi was just fine and in general I would say that my experience was positive.  But, once I no longer worked in that neighborhood, I really didn't think about it again. Until a few weeks ago when received the following email......

Happy Hour

Daily 4:30-7:30 and Late Night 10:30-1:30AM 

• 2 for 1 Sushi
• 2 for 1 Hand Rolls
• 2 for 1 Hot Sake
• $2.50 22oz Kirin Bottles
• $3.00 Imported Champagne
• $4.00 Premium Martinis
• $1.00 Corona (4:30-7:30 Only)

Obviously, this caught my attention.  And by attention, I mean the part of my brain that gets hot for cheap dranks.  I did not try any of the sushi because 1) Anthony Bourdain once said NEVER EAT DISCOUNT SUSHI - It's DISCOUNT for a REASON and 2) I had just been to a fancy menu tasting and was so full that you could hear everything sloshing around in my stomach. 

But, the drinks were delicious savings and my friends, well we all had a lovely time, in our little loungey area, which while super dorkus, kept us somewhat isolated from the rest of the place, which was rough. I don't know if this place is under new ownership, or if it just let itself go or couldn't keep up with all of the clubbing going on there, but it is not aging well.  The bathroom walls are covered in mirrors and remind me of an underground club I worked in back in my younger days.  Underground does not equate to cool or a route to freedom, I mean literally it was underground and there was no place for the precipitation from the hundreds of sweaty dancers to travel so it rained inside of this club every night. RAINED sweat. You could see the perspiration dripping down the walls. No joke.  A thirty-something year old me would tell that place to fuck off, well, so did the 20 year old me but I also said thank you kindly for the pay check.  Oh, to be young again and carefree and to have the world by the balls. Wouldn't that be the most? 

Anyway, the mirrored bathroom mirrors looked exactly like those walls of the underground club, as if thousands of sweaty teens spent the past 24 hours moshing, or krumping or beibering, whatever the kids are doing these days in this teeny tiny room.  Give me one hour and a gallon of class cleaner and I will fucking own this bathroom. Lets not forget I saw this place at 6:30pm meaning this is what it looks like when they open.  In addition, the floor is peppered with holes and the once cool asian area rugs in the dining rooms have gone totally rags mctattershanty.  Somebody needs a makeover.

But back to business. The happy hour specials are great and I promise you will not be bombarded with boys, weighing in under a dollar, galavanting around in their child molester glasses and their handlebar mustaches soooooooooooo that is a plus.

The moral of the story is that you can get drunk for cheap and that = yes.

Linger - Are you fucking kidding me?

Linger

2030 W 30th Ave Denver, CO 80211

Let's start with the positive. Linger has the most incredible view of any restaurant in Denver.  Amatos wishes it could suck the teet of this view and sell it to its customers for no less that $10 a suckle.

Secondly, as you can see from a photo that I didn't steal for once, (hooray for LV!) it has a super duper awesomely cool looking sign.  In fact, the rooftop bar  is so beautiful and fabulously glamorous that all of my senses feel satiated with glamour.  Which is great.  If only I could give Linger a 10 on looks alone.  Unfortunately, this most lovely looking "eatuary" which is still better I guess than eatery? And I totally get  the whole, this place was once a mortuary aren't we cute thing......but here is my problem with it.  The sign still has the m in front of eatuary which means they could have totally gone MEATUARY and then I would be powerless to it. I would go on missions across the city to convert America's vegans to see the light that is the cured meats.  "How do you do it?" people would ask.  "One house at a time," I would say.  I'd buy a little suit, something simple that breathes. I would put on my bike helmet and pack my meats bag and I would begin the single most amazing one-lady meat conversion this city, nay, this world (that might be a bit much) this city has ever seen.  And then on my death bed, when my grand children ask me, grandmama what is your greatest accomplishment? I would say shhhhhh my sweet grandchildren of whom I have never met......it was the meats...


Moving on.  So looks 10 dance 3.  That is where we are on this rooftop.  This gorgeous rooftop that I recommend solely based on having a nice view of Denver. And I guess the tables and chairs and architectural touches are pretty lovely as well.... and everything is sustainable and environmentally friendly and shit which I totally appreciate and Linger should be proud to be part of this movement.


HOWFUCKINGEVER!  Do NOT insult my fucking  HH intelligenstia by pretending to have amazing happy hour specials when YOU DO NOT!  I HATE YOU FOR LYING TO ME AND MY FRIENDS YOU MOTHERFUCKING ASSHOLE SHITFACE BITCH!!!!!  Is that too strong?


Then how about this.

GO FUCK YOURSELF YOU FUCKING LIAR!


I think we both know that I have attended a happy hour or two in my day.  And I have picked up a few things. For example, my eyes can deduce the difference between a cocktail that is 8oz AND ONE THAT IS FUCKING 4oz!!!! So do not tell me that your drinks are half price during happy hour when they are also half the size.  THAT IS NOT A HAPPY HOUR!  THAT IS GET ON MY FUCKING NERVES HOUR!  Oh, and if you think for one little second that taking a $1 off beer by serving 4oz less of it in some enviro-friendly plastic cup is going to fool me, then you are the dumb one.


And here's a tip! Tell your little rat-tailed Dali-mustachioed bouffanty fro'd hipster waiter, to FUCKING STEP on it.  I have no more patience left for these kids who are too busy thinking that their single handed awesomeness somehow overrides my desire to have two drinks in a 3 fucking hour period.  Go fuck yourself li'l Dali!  I hate your tude.  And I hate your service. It is the worst.  America needs some kind of scared straight program to teach some fucking respect to teens in the service industry who think they are too cool to fulfill their job requirements.


Now, I  know it seems that I might be rather harsh on this Linger  as I have heard it referred as ball ticklin' delicious.  In fact, there is a gentleman who swears to me that one day he will write (a classier take) on this very blahg about the amazingness that is Linger, so I know that the food has the potential to be incredible which is why it angers me to such degree.   I ask you this Linger.  If your regular dinner is so delicious then why is your happy hour food el sucko?  I can come to only one conclusion. You motherfuckers are under the misconception that cheapskates who want a little view and a little drank and a touch of food do not deserve the same quality and service as those who sit only a few floors below. You are fucking assholes for this.  And while I am at it, please stop with the fucking sweet potatoes. I get it, they were super neat 5 years ago - and you thought you were so innovative because you thought you put some interesting twist on the french fry.  I got news for you, you didn't.  Sweetpotatoing something, no longer makes it interesting.   Good in theory....crap on my plate.  And while I was taken for a moment at the thought of your saag paneer fry, which is also interesting in theory, I should have known that it too would be flavorless (with the exception of the neverending weird aftertaste of the fried sweet potato that surrounds it).  And I remembered - or was reminded that Linger is owned by the same people as Root Down and I have had the exact same experience there which leads me to believe that 1) No two restaurants need this much sweet potato.  Do they not know that 2011 is the year of the beet?  Try to french fry that motherfucker.   2) The people who own these 2 restaurants don't give a shit about the happy hour crowd.  I have both happy houred and dined for a real meal at Root Down and the two experiences were  exactly opposite from one another and yet very similar to my happy hour experience at Linger.  The happy hour was a bunch of sweetpotatoed crap and shitty drink specials while the dinner was fantastic.  So, I  feel confident assuming that the full-priced meal at Linger will be exquisite. But at this point does it even matter?  I feel so violated by your lies Linger.  I am so mad at you right now so do not expect to see me again....until probably next Friday when I am jonesing for the one decent view in this city.  Go Fuck yourself.

Venue Bistro -Pickle Me Softly

Venue Bistro

3609 W 32nd Ave

Denver, CO 80211

What an elegant and lovely little restaurant you are. So pleasant and lovely, and lovely and pleasant.  What a delightful little charcuterie plate you placed before eyes. Mmmm meats on my tongue.  I would also like to congratulate you for presenting me with the most delicious little pickled green beans I have ever tasted. I have never been a fan of the green bean. But my eyes are opening.  Isn't pickling the most?  Especially elegant pickling. I once watched as this old lady bartender slid pickled egg after pickled egg gently down her gullet.  That was not elegant. But Venue, is just perfectly pleasant. Just a pleasant little space with perfectly pleasant passers by.

Secondly.  Shrimp and grits.  Fuck me gently with a chainsaw.  I was completely blown away by the depth of flavor and the richness that was rationed perfectly into each bite.  Up until this moment I thought it was impossible to find a nice set of grits in this town.   After my painful experience at Beatrice and Woodsley, with their pasty grainy flavorless jalapeno grits brulee, I realized that most people think they know shit but they don't know shit when it comes to grits. Much like risotto so much easier to fuck up than to make well, people are over serving this and underwhelming my pants off.  I have grown so tired of grits disappointment that it was with great hesitation that I ordered this in the first place.  Thank fucking god I did. So fucking brilliant.  I think if I were to find myself in prison with nothing to do day after day, much like that Meursault fellow, I will remember each second of this meal.  I will think of how the first hit of thai chile, punched my tongue in the face. And how then the creamy grits gently washed over to soothe the intensity.  And the shrimp, cooked to perfection, created the perfect texture infrastructure for each bite. Jesus, I am boning for this meal as I write this.  I would love to go down on some shrimp and grits right now and since it is 8:30am I would love to finish that bitch off with a runny egg yolk to sop it all up.  Holy shit, talk about a tonguegasm.  Go there now. 


PS - My bestie had some pasta dish that I thought tasted like chef boyardee sooooooo not everything is perfect.

Burnsley Hotel Lounge, Well Hello Regal Beagle Meets Miami Vice, I'll take a table for EVER

Burnsley Hotel
1000 Grant Street Denver, CO 80203 (303) 830-1000

Welcome to 1987.  

I will tell you a secret, person who is reading this simply because you googled "eating out".  I have known about this place for many years but have kept it under lock and key in my memory box until now. A friend of mine introduced me to this little gem when he and his lady friend stayed here in the early thousands during their  Bat Boy The Musical, community theater trek across America.  I joined them for the Denver production which they said was quite impressive, comparatively speaking.  I don't normally do community theater, because it requires hanging out with the community, but obviously this was a necessary exception and totally worth it.  PS before you get all mad because I don't do community theater, let's just get one thing straight.  I am not intentionally shitting on your one true love.  I don't mind so much the theater as I mind the fucking intermission.  I don't do small talk under any circumstances and intermission is really just another word for - 15 miserably awkward minutes of small talk.  So suck it.


Back to the Burnsley.  It is amazing and glamorous inside even if, surprisingly dark. The mauve colored circular booths on one end are surrounded by tinted mirrors which remind me that the mid 80s really were kind of bitchin.   As a child, this is the kind of hotel bar I fantasized I would someday find myself drinking a Grasshopper with the Joan Wilder. Ambiance alone makes it worth your while, but there is so much more. I can promise that you will not find a better happy hour drink special in town.  Between 3 and 7pm each and every day of the year, The Burnsley offers all of their drinks at half price.

HALF PRICE YOU SAY!

It really does feel like 1987 when I only have to rip a couple of ones out of my pocket to purchase that strawberry daiquiri I have been dreaming about since lunchtime.  And how pleasant, to purchase a beer under $3 that isn't a fucking PBR or High Life.  Obviously this place isn't perfect, otherwise I would have never been able to slip inside, under the radar. The house is never packed.  It is rarely even customered.  In fact, the photo is pretty accurate as to what you will find when you walk in the door.  No one. Just an empty piano saying hey lady, you should get drunk and play me later, like you used to in college until you were run off by angry fraternity boys. I prefer to use fraternity rather than frat so I can avoid some dumb motherfucker commenting "I don't call your country a cunt so don't call my fraternity a frat".  People are gross.

Anyway, the food. The food is bad.  Maybe even the worst.  I have tried basically everything on the tapas menu by this point and I have yet to take a single bite of anything and said hmm, that is pretty good.  Because it isn't.  Not even a little bit tasty.  You might as well go to Applebees and order whatever artichoke dip crappetizer is looking up at you from the menu. Bland and terrible.  Terrible and bland. Those are the only two words I can think of to describe their tapas.  But, on the bright side they are only $3. So pros and cons.  Still, I fucking love this place and highly recommend it.

You Say Arigato Like We Say Arigato

Oshima  Ramen

7400 East Hampden Avenue

Denver, CO 80231-4884

The following video is a factual depiction of my recent excursion to the delightful Oshima Ramen.  

Maybe we should replace Uma with Roseanne Barr. And all that yelling from Hattori Hanso, well that is him yelling at me rather than his assistant.  Having never fallen prey to the world of noodles I really wasn't familiar with the ole ins n outs of such a place so I asked him what I should order off the menu.  His response was this:


"I DON'T GO TO BURGER KING AND ASK WHAT IS BEST BURGER ON MENU!  IT FAST FOOD!  ORDER SOMETHING!!!"  


At that moment I fell madly in love..... with him, with the restaurant, with life.  I knew that I was going to have an incredible experience. My friend asked politely, that her meal not include the pickled egg and he scoffed at her and mumbled something disdainfully under his breath. And he yelled at us later for asking too many questions, as my friend inquired if he had included the sauce with our dumplings, which by the way were fucking incredible. 


What a treat.  I am aware there are some major fauxhemians who are gonna be all - I totally rollerbladed there like 90 times already but I don't give a mother fuck.  I don't have to be first, I'm just glad to be a small part of this freakish little gem. Oshima showed up in the Denver in the mid 00s as part of Japan's fast food "takeover" of America.  It was supposed to be one of many, but instead, it is one of one. That might have something to do with the fact that 90% of the time the closed sign is up.  Or it could be that the carpet smells like someone mopped it with a sour mop. To which I ask "why would you mop carpet?" Let me just mention that sloshing around on soggy carpet while reading a menu is incredibly unappetizing.  But the noodles were amazing.  The broth was everything I ever could have hoped for.  Light and yet deeply flavorful. Spicy but not overbearing.  The pork was pretty fab as well, although obviously I am gonna drink the shit out of some pork broth, am I right?  So go there.  Just drive on over to Tamarac square, past the great big fat Whole Foods, and look for the little shop between a supercuts and a nail salon or wells fargo (or a wells fargo nail salon) and enjoy.  Ignore the closed sign. Don't worry about the carebears hanging upside down in wire baskets over the deep fryer. I am sure they are totally there for a reason. Right?  The food (or fast food) is incredible.  I miss him already.  I have never loved being yelled at by a man, more in all my life.

Annie's Cafe - The Opposite of Stapling Your Stomach

Annie's Cafe 
3100 East Colfax
Le Denver, CO 802somethingorother

So I have been thinking, and yes, talking (I would like to say attempting to have an open discussion with my fellow man) about the impending or maybe not impending just the possibility of an apocalypse.  I don't know what it is exactly that has prompted this train of thought, maybe it's all the fun rapture talk, or the fact that The Road has been burned into my brain, but once that faucet turns on, there is no shut off.  Much to the chagrin of all who know me, I am tunneled.  The good news, is that I have options. What concerns me, is that my dog and I are not quite at the ready, should America become engulfed in flames tomorrow. This little light of mine, has her own water glass on my bedside table, should she find herself parched in the middle of the night and wakes up every morning to the words you are so pretty. That doesn't bode well for dodging cannibals.  I feel like we need some kind of apocalyptic training course, like a militia camp maybe or at least some basic cannibal dos and do nots.  If you know of anything, please comment - and no, laser tag is not an option. I'm not renting out the whole goddamn compound. I need some training on the cheap and off the grid.

Anywhoo, what does this have to do with the lovely Annie's Cafe?  Well, this place is supposed to be a staple of breakfast dining in the Denver, however, I went there last weekend at 10:30 in the am and it was practically empty.  And I think this might have been what prompted all this isolated apocalypto business.  Maybe the place cleaned out because the most annoying people in America had chosen this day to grace Annie's with their presence. Luckily, we were seated next to them and had the pleasure of listening to the most inane conversations I have ever heard.  They were seriously out of control, asking our waitress where she was from, and were shocked by her response.....Denver.  What they said?  That is unpossible?   I thought you were from Georgia, said one girl. Well than you are even more of a fucking idiot than we thought you were.  This other guys follows with, we ALWAYS ask our.....pause.......pause........pause........wai, uh servers where they are from.  Do you? Well that makes you so interesting.   You seem like someone I would love to get to know.  What other exotic restaurants do you haunt?  Denver Diner?  I bet you would be shocked to know that your career waitress at that establishment also hails from Denver, or maybe the tropics of Aurora.

NOTE TO STUPID PEOPLE, if your waitress is over 50 and she works in a Diner, she is NOT traveling the world, living in hostels and soaking up the local culture. She is trying to earn a wage in order to compensate for the child support her deadbeat ex-husband refuses to pay her even though she gave him the best 30 years of her life.

So there, I still haven't even told you about the food. I might be stalling. I think we all know, as I have mentioned before, that my body is my temple. And as such, I only fill it with the highest quality ingredients.  So what did I eat?  Chicken Fried Steak and eggs with gravy.  So refreshing on a hot summer morn. It was definitely what I needed in order to shut out those idiots sitting next to me.   And at least I know where to go when I need me some decent country cookin.  Yes, CityGrille has an excellent chicken fried steak, but that place is kind of depressing and feels real Regal Beagley which is not the vibe I am looking for first thing in the morning. (Don't get me wrong, CityGrille is fantastic and I have been in an epic 8 year debate of which I will go into further detail at a later date when I finish my dissertation on why the best burger in the Denver is from the Cherry Cricket. A friend of mine with an equally discernible palette says I am dead wrong and that the only burger is the CityGrille Burger. Maybe we should all get together and go all pepsi challenge on this shit and see who comes out on top.  We don't need to. I will set America straight on this subject.)

So, I guess the moral of the story is that if you can stomach the most annoying people on the planet and some chicken fried steak at 10:30 in the morning you should check out Annie's.

I better motor if I'm going to mow my lawn in time to make it to La pesca de cumplidos party this afternoon.  Happy HolyDays America, you lovable curmudgeon.

R-Bar, Au Revior Les Incompetents (Now only awkward since I was returned shortly after being raptured a month ago)

R Bar
3209 E. Colfax Ave. Denver, CO 80206


The R Bar is the perfect little place to say good-bye to those of you I will be leaving behind shortly.  Here is what I love about this happy hour. 

1) It is teeny and there aren't a ton of people because you cannot fit very many people in the bar. 

2) There is always a draft beer special, a wine special and a fancy cocktail special.  The food is pretty good too.  It is definitely great for happy hour dining.  We had fried calamari (which again is kind of a WTF for Denver) but was good enough and fried green tomatoes, because obviously my body is my temple and I only put the finest ingredients of health inside it.  In the grand scheme of things, I really don't care since this was a pre-pocolypse party, I figured I would be a little drunk and well fed, and I have seen that Albert Brooks / Meryl Streep movie where they go to heaven and Meryl Streep is eating a shiltload of pasta and Albert Brooks is all "That is so unhealthy and Meryl is all - there are no stomachs!"  Or something like that.  I don't remember the exact details, but I was uncomfortable with the amount of public transportation in that film's portrayal of  heaven.  My heaven is one without small talk which means no public transportation thankyouverymuch. 


Ok, so we get it.  This place is pretty good but here is something I found very strange and I think you will agree that there is a strange pattern with motherfuckery waiters in this town.  So the website says happy hour is from 4-7 and the menu says 4-7 and there was a sign on the door that says happy hour begins at 4 and ends at 7 -which brought me to the conclusion that one could purchase happy hour beverages at the happy hour prices until 7pm.  My friend orders a drink at 6:35 and this waiter says that happy hour ends at 6:35pm. WHAT THE FUCK?  Why does everyone who works in the service industry have to be such a megabitch all the time?  ALL WE WANT IS WHAT WE ORDERED AT THE PRICES YOU PROMISED US - or what I refer to as the new social contract theory which states we are under an un-written social contract that I will not hurt you if you give me the booze and food you promised me at the happy hour prices on the goddamn front door you anus.  Of course I am being all complainy about it now - but when it happened, my first reaction was - maybe I read it wrong? on the website, on the door, on the menu.  No, I didn't.  Luckily we got it all worked out but this waiter needs to watch it.  If he tries to pull the old banana in the tailpipe trick again I will go apeshit.  I will be honest with you.  I won't.  I am so all talk.  I will probably sulk in the corner but I will never say anything.  I am a southern lady with southern lady manners, should the southern lady I be compared to be one of those southern ladies on the Real Housewives of Atlanta.


Summary - Please don't go to R Bar because I don't want it to be crowded the next time I have my Big Raptcha Pahty.

Parisi - Never Gonna Give You Up

Parisi
4401 Tennyson Street
Denver CO 80212

Parisi and I have been "going together" since I first moved to the Denver.  It was my first MOST FAVORITE PLACE EVER in this city and it has yet to let me down.  Four score and seven years ago, or like 8 or 9 years ago it was a teeny hole in the wall that served a few sandwiches, salads and hot items.  I fucking loved it.  Tiny and perfect and the best prosciutto my mouth had ever known.  A gorgeous and simple sandwich, the parma, was all I ever wanted in my life.   Some prosciutto, a hint of oil, provolone cheese, and a touch of lettuce and tomato. It whispers to me from the menu, "I am fucking awesome.  Eat the shit outta me." I was once asked the question that should I find myself on a deserted island what 5 things could I not live without.  I answered this question as follows:

1) Prosciutto
2) Prosciutto
3) Prosciutto
4) Prosciutto
5) Prosciutto

Obviously, that is silly, because I will need to wash the prosciutto down with a little white wine spritzer and I'm gonna need some greens....but you get the point.  Defuckinglicious.

I still visit Parisi at least once a month. It is so much more than just the house of the most elegant of sandwiches.  It took me about five years but I was finally able to discover other items on the menu.  The risotto is glamorous, the pizza divine and their specials are pretty spectacular as well.  Their in-house market carries tons of frozen pastas and some $500 a pound prosciutto and delicious-looking overpriced seafood salad and risotto balls.  I love anything that has been balled you know?

I cannot get enough of you Parisi.

Many years ago, I was at a snowstorm party, although in retrospect, it wasn't so much a storm as just snow.  Anyway, I was sitting at the dining room table chatting to a friend of mine of what shall become of us when some gurl or womyny type sits down next to me and says, you are a cunt and you love being a cunt.  You are a cunt who loves being a cunt.  Obviously this young woman was inebriated on a grand scale, however,  I think about that sometimes when I write what I am about to write.  I probably am one, TO ANSWER YOUR RHETORICAL QUESTION, but I don't think I love being one.  Sometimes I am ok with with it but I don't LOVE it.  Mostly, I would say I tolerate being one - and obviously tolerate this girl which I guess decunts me a little.  Shortly after exclaiming my cuntdom to the world, she tried to start a physical fight with a another girl, and ended up just lying in the snow and crying, so I wouldn't say this girl is an excellent judge of what is or what is not a cunt.   Nonetheless, I feel guilty saying what I am about to say, so I just want YOU to know that if what I say sounds cunty to you, I don't mean to and I certainly don't LOVE being one.

Here is my issue with Parisi.  You have to stand in a line in order to get a table, which is fine because I am usually ripping through a menu with my eyes trying to decide - should I get the parma or the risotto or what AAAAAACK!!!!? I am a total Cathy when it comes to this menu.  Anyway, you order your food at a counter and you sit down, much like Luby's if Luby's was glamorous with gorgeous food.  Although now that I think about it - you go through a food line at Luby's and plop your food on your plate so scratch that - this is NOTHING like Luby's but I love to say Luby's so there.  Anyway, here is my problem with Parisi.  I think the staff might be a little big for their britches, or maybe they just don't care about their clientele, but I went up to the counter to order myself a drink (after being seated obviously) NO ONE WOULD HELP ME.  They saw my big face at the counter and ignored it.  Several people who worked there, just stood around doing nothing. Like they couldn't be bothered because they were too busy not helping me.  What the fuck is wrong with people?  Why are you in he service industry if you cannot service this lady a beer?  There is a reason I don't serve people, well there are a couple of reasons, I don't like serving people and I have no concept of time. But that is ok because I do something else with my time.  So I am sorry Parisi but please get those teens behind the counter some in-i-tia-tive.  Other than that I love you.

Lou's Times Two - Electric Bugalooo

I know that no one wants to read the same restaurant review but I went back to Lou's last week and it was GLORIOUS. Like a teenager in love for the first time I want the world to know how I feel.

I don't need to tell you about the deliciousness of before so if you want to know about the first time, go fucking read it yourself lady.

(I am currently reading the menu to remind myself of everything I shoved down my gullet and my tongue is totally bonering up at the words on the page.)

1) Beef Carpaccio, Parmesan and Arugula - this was the last thing I ate - but I cannot stop thinking about it. What a pièce de résistance. The moment I placed this incredibly delicate yet rich and smooth beef on my tongue I was reminded of that scene in Boyz in the Hood, where that lady is all - you got some rock, you got some blow, Man, I'll suck your dick!  If you replace rock and blow with beef carpaccio and a little arugula with the ever so subtle hint of parmesan and olive oil, you might have yourself a deal. Just gorgeous

2) Mel's Mussels - Whoa.  Mussels are easy to fuck up and simultaneously difficult to perfect.  These were as close to perfection as I have had in the landlockedness of Denver. 

3) Cheese Plate - Fuck me gently with a chainsaw or a cheese plate.  That doesn't even make sense, but I will say, go eat a cheese plate at Lou's and you will probably speak gibberish by the end of the meal.

We ordered some happy hour items as well. As I said before, I don't normally like crabcakes but I couldn't keep my filthy paws off them and so we ordered a few, plus the sausages. Don't get me started on those delightful combinations of dignity and elegance.  Just eat them.  Seriously.

The cocktails are fucking gorgeous and CHEAP!  $5 for a sazerac people.  $5.  I should have said that in the beginning.  I mean - that is the happiest hour of all happy hours.

I cannot believe that this place wasn't crowded.  What the fuck is wrong with Denver?

If you live in Denver and you do not go to Lou's you are dumb and I will not like you.  If you do go to Lou's you will probably see me there.

Bagel Deli - You... Light Up My Life

The Bagel Deli
6439 East Hampden Avenue Denver, CO 80222

So yesterday evening this pain in the ass old broad and I got into an argument over which was better, The New York Deli News or The Bagel Deli.  This argument stems from her being given a choice where we would dine for her farewell lunch. She is retiring HOORAY and not dying, this isn't Soylent Green asshole.  She said her options were LePeep, New York Deli News and the Denver Country Club.  Sidenote, this fight lasted way longer than the old lady could stomach which meant I won AGAIN even though nothing was really resolved, but I will miss her staunch negativity.

Anyway, so first I said to her - LOOK LADY are you fucking kidding me?  You dare put LefuckingPeep (a crapfest) and New York Deli News(mid range at best) in the same category as the glorious and fabulous Denver Country Club?  Some day, I may write a comparison of the country clubs of this city (which I do not hang out in - I just sometimes eat there for " personal business" reasons) but it sounds real  - WELL LA DI DA of me and I certainly do not want to come across as pompous.  Well, frankly I don't give a fuck what you think because this is a RAGE blog that channels my anger through my love for good eatin, much like The Fonz made birdhouses out of popsicle sticks to temper his temper. 

Anyway, how is this about Bagel Deli you ask?

So, I am bullying an old woman into going where I would prefer we eat her final meal (we can only hope) when I say - by the way - you just went to New York Deli News last week, wouldn't you rather go to Bagel Deli instead?  It is better and basically right next door.  Well you would have thought that I shit on Elvis Presley's face (oh, she is the head of the local fan club) and she said OOOOOOOH NO it isn't.  I said, have you ever been there?  And she said, No, why?  I think that explains why I have secretly and by secretly I mean very publicly hated her for the last 5 years. 

So, this morning I went to Bagel Deli out of spite - because I am no better than she, worse in fact, as we are supposed to respect our elders. 

I love Bagel Deli.  I wrote a review of it in 2008 (because I have been trying to channel this rage for many years) http://mallorypicks.blogspot.com/2009/03/bagel-delicatessen-hopefully-where-i.html and I think that review is even worse than this one because it is overly peppered with the word anus.  Anyway again, Bagel deli really is that incredible.  So much so, or not so, that it was featured on Diners, Drive ins and Dives, which I know because they have every possible poster and advertisement for it plastered all over their restaurant and I am so sick of looking at that Guy's face which is the one draw back to Bagel Deli, having to look at that unpunk's face.

So this morning, I picked up a bagel with glorious lox  and showed it to ole whatserface and I said, look you lazy bag of bones, the Bagel Deli is far superior and you can watch me eat if you disagree.  Needless to say, she shut her trap up real good.  Another win por moi.

Moral of the story - this place has the best pastrami in Colorado so go there.

Lou's Food Bar - Guess who totally got raptured this weekend!

Lou's Food Bar - 1851 W 38th Ave - Denver, CO 80211

Lou's represents everything I have ever wanted in a happy hour. I have never felt so free and vibrant and should I die before I wake I pray the lord my soul to take.... on down to Lou's and leave it there for eternity.

How do I love thee, Let me count the ways.

1) Best happy hour food in Denver - by far, possibly America but I am only one lady with no jet pack so I will stick with the best of Denver for now.

Apparently, the happy hour food is not served on Saturdays - but our waiter was not aware of this until after we ordered so he gave it to us anyway. I am going to name my firstborn son Waiter or whatever his name was. 

2) Best cocktail happy hour in Denver - Aside from beer they have a pretty extensive list of super glam cocktails for $5.  I tried my friend's moscow mule which I normally hate because I don't like ginger beer but the ginger in this ginger beer was noticeably fresh and gorgeous and I will do anything for Lou's from now on.

3) Crabcake - In general the crabcake is up on my list of the most overrated crappetizers - so often dry and tasteless - but this was somehow creamy and rich and delicate and subtle and elegant and beautiful and my first bite began my hour long ascencion into the rapture of deliciousness.

4) Escargot - Dear Jesus, thanks for making snails.  I cannot wait to eat them again in heaven. (Not on the happy hour menu but made my hour super happy).

5) Pork Sliders - I know I have said that I disapprove of the slider with all of my being because I don't eat at White Castle for a REASON, but, a little pulled pork plus a little fancy slaw equals whatever the spankbank version of fantasizing about food would be.

Anyway, I am boring myself at this point, so I will say this. Lou's raptured my brains out and I feel confident saying this is by far the best happy hour in the city limits of the Denver.  The food is far superior to any other hh and at these crazy discounted prices - you would be an idiot not to love it.  I If you don't like this place there is nothing I can do for you so please move to another city.

Max Gill and Grill - How Does $1 Taco night turn into $100 Taco night? Real Easy

Max Gill and Grill
1052 South Gaylord StreetDenver, CO 80209

This place is fun.  A Bff and me like to go here whenever the lord, or government gives us working people a day off.  We like to think of it as our own little boozy staycation - because the back patio looks just like Key West, if Key West were frigid and snowy in the wintertime.   I love it partly because it reminds me of the greatest buddy / cop comedy of all time, Running Scared. You get the Key West warmth and the Chicago cold all at the same time. Lest you confuse this rather elegant comedy with some other annoying Running Scared - this is the brilliant film starring Gregory Hines, Billy Crystal and a hot young newcomer named Jimmy Smitts, and not the one with that Paul Thomas Walker person, or Paul Walker Thomas, or Jonathon Taylor Thomas, you know what I mean. 

Anyway, last night we decided to try out taco night because as L said - Hey-  its a dollar a taco!  Well apparently, we had 100.  I was very happy with the service and the food was pretty decent even though the tuna tacos were a little overcooked, the swordfish tacos were a little fishy and some painus behind us kept screaming about hockey.  As one who inherently strives to overcome adversity, I along with my team of happy hourers, managed to power through some oysters, tacos and beer.  You are welcome America.

Max's isn't going to win any most delicious awards (with me at least - who the fuck knows in this town - if Stuebans wins one more goddamn award I am going to start cutting myself). But I still recommend it considering that we went specifically to eat highly discounted seafood which is basically an unwritten rule of NO in the food industry. So Huzzah!

Z Cuisine - You are my everything

Z Cuisine and À Côté
2239 W. 30th Avenue Denver, CO 80211

Dear Z Cuisine, I love you.  I don't care what anyone says, you are prettiest.  You are also the most smartest and the best damn tapper.

The food is perfect.  I say this, not because I love superlatives, which I do, but because it is true. Any person who disagrees with me needs to be shot, with a bite of their foie gras, which tastes as described, like butter.  It is so fucking amazing.  My tongue is totally boning as I think about what glory touched my lips on my last visit.  I had some beef bourguignony number (Hachis Parmentier de Boeuf Bourguignon to be exact -  ~ Colorado grass fed beef flat iron marinated and slow baked in a roasted spices, merlot wine, roasted beef marrow & oxtail broth slow braised with root vegetables on a bed of onions and topped with yukon gold pommes purée & aged parmesan cheese served with a salade vinaigrette).  Basically - it is the best Shepard's pie you will ever eat.  Also it is marinated for 4 days.  My waiter indulged or the opposite of indulged - because it was pretty boring and I zoned out most of it - but he gave me an incredibly detailed description of enitre process and I remember the 4 days part.  A few years ago, I had this lamb nicoise salad that I would have made love to if legal.  That sounds weird but that is how unbelievably pure and simple and elegant this dish was - and I am not a fan of salads because they are too busy filling me up with lame lettuce, but I remember the waiter mentioning the delicacy to which the lamb was cooked and I was sold.  I always feel like an anus when I eat there because I spend so much time moaning, and saying shit like oooooooh myyyyyyyy gaaaaaawd you have to try this.  Like I am drunk with lust for the food so much so that I lose all dignity, not that I was loaded to begin with but in retrospect, I am always embarrassed because I basically belt out eternally:

"where I was a Flower of the mountain yes when I put the rose in my hair like the Andalusian girls used or shall I wear a red yes and how he kissed me under the Moorish wall and I thought well as well him as another and then I asked him with my eyes to ask again yes and then he asked me would I yes to say yes my mountain flower and first I put my arms around him yes and drew him down to me so he could feel my breasts all perfume yes and his heart was going like mad and yes I said yes I will Yes!"

This place epitomizes romance and not in the "I am feeling romantic for sexy time" but in the "life is full of romance" and "everything is glamorous".  Plus there was some incredibly freaky and wonderful old timey movie with a lot of dancing and a midget dressed up as a baby - tap dancing - so the infotainment is also exquisite.  Why do the french enjoy dressing up like babies? 
Anyway, if you want to have the greatest experience of your life.  Go there.  If you hate happiness and joy then don't go and I will look forward to never seeing you.

Ale House at Amato's - You + Me = Frowny Face

Ale House at Amato's
16th and Central (or something like that)
their website is currently just popups - surprise


I love to Happy Hour on Saturdays.  Sun and beer and some sort of a cured meat are really my favorite tongue equation.  Since Denver has more sunny days than San Diego (I am still waiting for this to be our city's motto) Saturday happy hours give me the much needed excuse to take a break from my role as Sysiphus and sit in the sun and get a little drunk.

When I told a friend of mine that it was time to get happy houred, he suggested Amatos or whatever the stupid name is - because he heard it has a yuge patio, a shit load of beer and good food.  He was exactly right. It has all of those things. Apparently the patio seats 500 people and there is a super long list of Colorado beers and the muffaletta slider (which goes against my core beliefs of hating all sliders - full full report to appear on the shit I am sick of post coming soon) was pretty good.  So why don't I like this place?  If it has all of the ingredients in making my Saturday happy?

First of all they don't happy hour on Saturday. So fuck you for that. Secondly, they don't have a single lager or any lighter beer that isn't a fucking wheat beer.  Dear wheat beer, college called and said you can go fuck yourself.  I am very Sam I am about wheat beer.  I will not drink it anywhere.  After trying a couple of different "pilsnery radobeers" we ended up saying fuck it and getting drunk on wine.

We did enjoy ourselves but no thanks to Amatos.  It was too chilly to sit outside and while this patio was incredibly large, I am not sure why everyone raves about the view.  It overlooks I-25.  I already have that view on a daily basis.  I would in fact prefer that I have the opposite view.  Sure, there is a view of downtown in the background but it is basically like sitting on the highway, so no thank you.

Secondly Amatos whatever its called was created by the Breckinridge Brewery and I am pretty sure this is how their design process went.  Dude, what do Coloradans love most? RadoBeer, RadoSunsets and RadoSports.  Let's give it to them, fuck yeah!  We are so fucking Rado YEAH!  I really don't understand their need for profanity in this moment, but I totally can see them swearing a lot while fancying themselves over the top Rado. What they did not consider, in this very (one can only assume extensive) design process, was giving the facility for which to appreciate these very Rado experiences any kind of personality whatsoever.  It is the lamest looking TGIFridays I have ever seen. Aside from the little statue of David in the ladies room, which I assumed to be an homage to the original namesake of Amatos, (a crazy statue birdbathy place) it was horrendously boring.  Sans Ambience.  Sans anything. So technically the most interesting aspect of the entire bar was the shitter?  Thank you but I am busy hating this place.  What kind of assholes take the namesake of one of the most incredibly weird and interesting locations in the entire city and rape it of its originality?  If I could punch a bar in the face (or a brewery I would punch this bitch square in the mouth).  How could Amatos fix this problem?  Go back in time 6 months and instead of tearing the site to shit, leave it as is, string up some lights and throw in a crooked bar with a few too busy to be interested in serving you waiters and you will have probably the coolest little bar in the city.  Covered in birdbaths and statues, I bet this place exists in Austin somewhere so maybe it wouldn't be that original but it would beat the cock off of this Applebees 2.0.

L'Heure Heureux At The Horseshoe - What Do You Want on Your Tombstone? Pepperoni and Sausage

Horseshoe Lounge
414 East 20th Avenue
Denver, CO 80205-3201 http://www.thehorseshoelounge.com/

Horseshoe Lounge is perfect if you like the following:

1) Getting drunk and eating pizza on the cheap.
2) Avoiding painus Lodo-ers.
3) Relaxing with booze.

The cozy, hodge podge, loungy attitude of the Horseshoe isn't screaming I'm FANCY WORLD, to my face, like so many other places in this city.  Denver is confused, for the most part, what it wants to be.  On one hand, so fucking rado and outsdoorsy and laid back, and yet, simultaneously contrived in its desperation to look metropolitan, glamorous and fancy in hopes to be worthy a visit by Anthony Bourdain, who has said on many occassions that he has no intention of coming to Denver (even though I saw him on a two minute excerpt about Mizuna being the only super delicious place in town - and he is mostly right - which reminds me to tell you that I will post a dissection of "SHIT I AM SO SICK OF HEARING ABOUT - referencing my personal disdain for the amount of publicity and "best of" type shit that certain undeserving restaurants receive. But that is another story. 

My point is that I love the Horseshoe because it is exactly what it should be. Not fancy, just comfy. Not calling itself a gastro something or other - or an eatery this and that.  Just a bar - which gets tons of light in the afternoon to avoid the heavy and dark depressing feel of the winter months and enough regulars sitting at the bar, with plenty to say to one another that you can feel comfortly soothed in anonymity. Isn't that every girl's dream? Drinking anonymously during winter's abyss and eating the shit out of a little pizza.  PS, the menu claims that everything is "housemade" but I have a hunch this house is made by Tombstone. Nonetheless, it is good. I haven't had a Tombstone pizza in awhile because I am partial (with my incredibly sensitive palette) to the Totinos party pizzas. But the pizza was still very nice.  I love a thick little crunchy pepperoni as much as the next girl and appreciate it for what it is, sustenance for my inebriation.