There are some foods that become sacred through nothing more than fierce love and attachment. Your mother’s meatloaf, Sunday-morning pancake breakfasts, the roasted chicken your wife made the first time she cooked for you, pressed with the indents of her thumbs and speckled with fresh thyme. And there are entire…
I don’t know why it surprises me so to find good Vietnamese food outside the neighborhoods with which I am comfortable. Federal and Alameda? No shock. Aurora? The town’s spilling over with great Vietnamese restaurants. But even though I’d heard that the stretch of Federal Boulevard running through Westminster was…
While driving back from Boulder after visiting Radda Trattoria (see review), I got to thinking about the restaurant scene and how it relates to anthropology. Specifically, to “carrying capacity,” the term that anthropologists use to describe the size of population that can be sustained by a certain tract of earth…
It was long after midnight, and I was hours late for home, but it had been a great party — the tenth or thirtieth or fiftieth in a row; I’d lost count. We’d closed the restaurant, seen the last lingering tables out the door, then occupied the place like a…
At Big Hoss Bar-B-Q (see review, page 44), owner and Buffalo native Hoss Orwat does chicken wings – because every restaurant guy who’s ever spent time in Buffalo is bound by law and tradition to do chicken wings at his joint, no matter its official cuisine or location. But, being…
I love fried cheese. Of all the things that man has invented over the course of history — the wheel, zombie movies, Gary Busey, the interweb — fried cheese has to be in the top ten. I mean, penicillin is great: You go to Thailand, drink a few too many…
Like all purveyors of great barbecue, Hoss Orwat is a renaissance man, a fine storyteller and a little bit goofy in the head. I’ve never known a good pit man who didn’t come to barbecue sideways — who didn’t sneak up on it or stumble into it or (in the…
My meals at Jing (see review) convinced me that the problems at Charlie Huang’s other restaurants come not from the rigors of cuisine or the classic chef’s tug-of-war between art and commerce, but simply from age and popularity. And in the interest of science, last week I stopped by his…
When I was talking with Michael Bortz about his new City Bakery (“From Z to A,” January 17), he went on a ten-minute tangent about Under the Umbrella, a coffee shop and cafe at 3504 East 12th Avenue, and how much he dug the place and its baker-owner, Jyll Tuggle…
Driving through the new Landmark development in Greenwood Village is like moving through an incomplete Hollywood backlot. Eight out of ten storefronts are empty, but they’re varnished with promises: a salon here, coming spring 2008; a bar there, pledged for 2009. There are parking garages and street signs, lights in…
Z Cuisine, the best thing to happen to Denver’s Frog-humpers and charcuterie addicts since the now-defunct Brasserie Rouge made its debut, has finally expanded — sort of. Last Thursday marked the opening of À Côté, chef Patrick Dupays’s homage to the Parisian wine-bar culture of the 1900s, at 2245 West…
About twenty minutes into our first meal at Ali Baba Grill, I leaned across the table and whispered to Laura, “What’s the big deal? I just don’t get it.” For years, we’d heard glowing endorsements of this little Middle Eastern restaurant in a Golden strip mall from people who refuse…
There was a time when my favorite Korean restaurant was the one housed in the shell of a former McDonald’s on Parker Road in Aurora — a massive place that still had uncomfortable plastic McDonaldland seats in the dining room and big Ms embossed on things like the napkin dispensers…
Shortly before New Year’s, I went back to O’s at the Westin Westminster with some of my most trusted dining compatriots, where we put away several bottles of Piper Heidsieck champagne and had chef Ian Kleinman (“Mr. Wizard,” October 25, 2007) cook us a mind-altering meal. I’d arranged this foray…
Every time I go to Ha Noi Pho, I stop for a moment in front of the doors and look at the hours, painted in white on the glass. They say the place opens at 8:30 a.m., but I’ve never made it here anywhere close to that early. In fact,…
After a trip, my first meal back in Denver is almost always at Little Panda. Why? For starters, it’s always open. Christmas Eve, New Year’s Eve, Christmas Day, St. Paddy’s: I’ve never once called the joint when someone wasn’t there, waiting (though sometimes grudgingly) to take my order for steamed…
From the outside, Bar Americain looks like the storefront of an abandoned Sibley’s department store, and from the inside, like every winner of the Miss America pageant over the past twenty years: pretty, but only generically and broadly so, calculated to be satisfying to the largest possible swath of the…
Hanging above the entrance to Osteria Marco is a brass pig. It’s a smallish thing that you could miss if you weren’t looking for it. As a matter of fact, you could easily miss the entire restaurant if you didn’t know where it was — behind a dark door, down…
I’m looking back at the year from a twelfth-floor suite across from Carnegie Hall, on the quiet side of 57th Street. I’ve got a bellyful of ridiculously overpriced beer, cheeseburgers and Cuban chicken from the Brooklyn Diner, and have just returned from a nice digestive stroll through the Christmas market…
Some of the world’s worst restaurants come out of a restaurateur’s attempts to define a cuisine, a mood or himself. Some of the best come as an answer to a problem or a declaration of intent. When it opened exactly four years ago, Mezcal could have gone either way: become…
Jesse Morreale, owner of Tambien, called me at home last Wednesday night. “So, how is it?” he asked with no preamble, no hey-how-ya-doin’. “How is what?” I asked, feigning a sweet, downy and unsullied ignorance. “How is it?” “How is what, man? I have no idea what you’re talking about.”…
Mexico, Christmas 2001. Laura and I, in a fit of wild-goose inspiration, had quit the bright, dusty and idiot-ridden confines of Albuquerque, New Mexico, for a quick run through Truth or Consequences, Las Cruces and Vado, aiming the blunt nose of yet another in a long line of used $400…
