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.