Do you remember the days of 21-year-old bar crawls? I do. It began in sober excitement, a mellow Long Island in one hand, a Vodka-Cran in the other. Before you knew it, both glasses were empty and the giggles sloppy. Then on to another – with a name you can’t quite remember. Then a third, and a fourth, and … maybe a fifth?
It’s a sad truth that when one seeks out the press-coated stars in Denver and Boulder’s culinary spheres, they rarely seem to think of what lies between the two cities. And rather than take that surprise and create a swirling marketing scheme, Bistro 4 has chosen to lie relatively low, tucking into the corner of a strip mall off McCaslin Blvd.
Somewhere between the steak and the soufflé lies Forkly, the sometimes cousin of Instagram, twice removed from Twitter, and half-brother to Yelp. Its face may be new, but its concept is a deft merging of technologies we already know and love. It is the chance to create a photo journal of our gustatory lives.
Tamayo has enjoyed a bit of a makeover recently – in both menu and décor. The space, while still occupying the narrow corner lot on the edge of Larimer, has taken on a more fluid feel while deftly separating formal dining from bar-anchored happy hours.
To natives and foodies, however, there is – just occasionally – a happy mix of both. Enter Wazee Supper Club.
Here are some of my thoughts, and tips, on how we gals can, with elegance and ease, handle our booze and look good doing it
It’s worthwhile for Denverites to occasionally traipse up north and learn what makes Boulderites salivate. Happily mixed with college nosh houses on the Hill —including hole-in-the-wall Asian takeout staples, coffeehouses aplenty, and burrito masters like Illegal Pete’s — are high-end, high-profile spots like John’s and Arugula.
I ate at Kachina recently. And I ate. And I ate. And I ate some more. And with every savory, eye-popping dish that ushered from recesses of the kitchen, I sucked on a margarita. OK, two margaritas. And a Mexican coffee – treated with tequila.
Somewhere nestled in the jagged peaks of the Rocky Mountains, dusted with snow and marked by Austrian gables, sits a jewel of the Old World: Vail’s own Sonnenalp Resort.
I, still to this day, remember my first sip of wine. I guess I was about six years old and my sometimes-present-but-mostly-not papa was visiting from I don’t remember where. Just for the record – my papa loves his booze. I remember him, in a good-humored way, chugging something alcoholic at every opportunity and that [...]