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.