Sundayyy, berry sundae

Where can you get this large cup of rich, creamy, frozen vanilla yogurt—swirled with strawberry syrup and topped with several large pieces of whole strawberries—for under two bucks?

Those of you who are bulk shoppers probably already know the answer: the food court of Costco. I've had good experiences with their chocolate and vanilla swirl, too, but the berry sundae is usually the one that wins. Geddit!

Exploring the Mile High Marketplace

One Saturday, ES and I were trying to figure out how to entertain ourselves when one of us brought up the Mile High Marketplace, Denver's year-round, outdoor amusement park, farmers' market, and flea market. We've both heard or seen a lot of the commercials (you probably have, too), and checking it out seemed as good an activity as any to while away a sunny weekend afternoon.

I wouldn't go to the Mile High Marketplace expecting to do any serious, high-quality shopping, as the place seems to specialize in cheap clothing and sunglasses, used power tools and toys, and just a bunch of overall junk. While we did find ourselves attracted to some enormous duffel bags selling for less than twenty bucks apiece, it might be better to simply think of the place as something like an oversized yard sale (and indeed, the marketplace encourages people to rent out a booth for the day in order to get rid of household items).

However, the place is good for cheap beers and carnival fare like turkey drumsticks, funnel cake, sausages, and corn on the cob. The temperature that afternoon was too high for ES and I to be enticed by the hot food, but we couldn't resist getting a cold beer and an enormous bag of freshly made kettle corn to keep us company while we browsed.

Aside from the flea market, Mile High Marketplace also boasts an extensive farmers' market, most of which is centered around Mexican produce. This grocery store, in the middle of it, carried rows and rows of canned and packaged imported goods.

The outdoor section of the farmers' market seemed to be less about variety than quantity, with identical arrangements of the same fruits and vegetables repeating at every other table. If I'd known what the heck to do with thirteen different types of chili peppers and endless rows of nopales, I'd have been all over this place. But since my Mexican cooking skills need a lot more work before I can tackle a meal, we simply picked up a few onions and avocados, brushed the kettle corn crumbs from our lips, finished the beer, and called it a day.

Chicken wings, cheap: Mo Jeaux's Bar and Grill

If ES and I are hanging out in Fort Collins instead of Denver for the weekend, the declaration of "It's Saturday!" is oftentimes not just the overjoyed cry of the weekday-weary, but our excited realization that the Cajun- and Southern-themed bar and grill Mo Jeaux's is serving up their smoked chicken wings for a mere 50 cents apiece, all day long.

Indeed, it was the 50 cent wings that first got me to step foot in the place the first time, though it took me a while. I had long perceived Mo Jeaux's as being primarily an undergraduate hangout, and until ES came along with his love of chicken wings in all forms, I had little desire to swill drinks alongside the same students who could very well appear the next day in my classroom. There were also other obstacles—the first night we went, the bar was packed with post-game revelers and there was nary a seat to be found. Unwilling to wait, we left and decided to return another time.

Another opportunity presented itself a few weeks later, when we found ourselves pondering our meal options after a tour of New Belgium Brewing Company. We made our way over to Mo Jeaux's, counting on the early evening to be more peaceful. Fortunately, we were right, and found ourselves a comfortable booth seat right away.

On Saturdays, along with the 50 cent wing special, Mo Jeaux's boasts $2 drafts of Coors and Bud along with their full menu of bbq, burgers, and sandwiches and everyday "pub grub" menu of $4 items. We'd just decided on an order of fried okra from this last menu when the enticing smell of another table's garlic and parmesan fries wafted under our noses, and we added on a basket of those, too. In truth, I wouldn't say either choice was particularly special, but they were still tasty and for $4, the portions were admirable.

Mo Jeaux's smoked chicken wings are sold in orders of five, and we started off with one order of the regular hot-wing flavor (pictured at top) just to test the waters. They proved to be juicy and huge—nearly twice the size of wings at, say, Buffalo Wild Wings—and quite delicious. With the classic wings a success, we quickly ventured into other territory: honey mustard, and naked. The honey mustard flavor was too light to make much impact, but ES thoroughly enjoyed the naked wings, which boasted a crisp, paper-thin fried skin around the smoky chicken meat. I liked that the creamy blue cheese dressing had big chunks of real cheese, too.

Another visit meant more wing flavors and more selections from the pub grub menu. The teriyaki wings were surprisingly complex, with a gingery kick to the sauce that did much to elevate their flavor beyond the sticky, palate-fatiguing sweetness of so many other versions. The sausage mac and cheese was a heaping pile of perfect, chewy-cheesy baked pasta topped with slices of andouille sausage. And I couldn't resist getting the menu's $1.99 "one rib" offering, after spotting it on someone else's plate when I went up to order: a wonderfully tender pork rib with meat that fell right off the bone.

Even though I discovered Mo Jeaux's late in the game—I'd lived in this town for over two years by the time ES and I finally tried it—now the place is a firm part of our dining-out rotation. At this point I don't have a lot of time here left, but you bet we're fitting in at least one more visit to Mo Jeaux's before I go!

Woody's Wings & (Asian) Things

Can't decide between Asian or American for dinner? The answer is Woody's Wings & Things—a smallish chain of Denver-area restaurants specializing in hot wings and other fried items, but with one exception. Walk into the Westminster location, and along with the standard wing menu you'll be greeted with a thick hardbound volume filled with pictures of Cambodian, Thai, Chinese, and Vietnamese specialties.

ES and I had dinner there after returning from Black Hawk and Central City, and started with this dish of mussels and assorted vegetables in a green curry. I loved the tender mussels, and the thick, slightly spicy curry, rich with coconut milk and ground peanuts, was delicious over rice.

Delicious, too, was a creamy and soothing chicken-rice soup, as well as a Thai beef salad. We had originally intended to order the Cambodian beef salad, but the waiter insisted that the Cambodian version was bitter and that the Thai one was the best on the menu.

There was also a dish of pad see ew, with that wonderful slightly charred and smoky quality that I'm always looking for in this dish. It also struck the perfect balance between not-sweet-enough and too-sweet, and was less oily than usual; though I might have quibbled with the usage of what seemed like dried rice noodles instead of fresh ones, the flavor was so good that I didn't quibble for long.

From what I observed, neither menu at Woody's Wings & Things goes ignored; in the restaurant that night there were an equal number of tables ordering from the American menu and from the Asian menu. Some tables even boasted platters of hot wings alongside noodle soups and rice plates: those who couldn't decide which way their tastes were leaning, or those who decided that heck—they just want a little bit of both.

An elevated gamble: Ameristar Centennial Buffet

On a bright Saturday afternoon at the end of my spring break, ES and I drove a half hour out of Denver and up into the mountain gambling towns of Black Hawk and Central City. While mellower than Atlantic City and certainly smaller and quieter than Las Vegas, these two towns boast a number of large casinos interspersed with humbler ones, all set along a gulch that had once been a hub for gold mining and processing.

Upon arrival, we stepped outside and breathed in the cold, crisp air. Behind the casinos tree-speckled mountains rose in the background, and the sun shone high overhead. Since we had arrived around noon, our first stop was Ameristar—one of the newer casinos to arrive to Black Hawk—to eat lunch.

Ameristar's Centennial Buffet is pretty standard "international buffet" fare, with the notable addition of a pho station amid the steam tables of American, Mexican, Chinese, and Italian offerings. ES got himself a bowl and declared it actually okay.

This, by the way, is also where I hatched a renovation idea for pho restaurants: installing a buffet station for the garnishes—sprouts, limes, mint, jalapenos, cilantro, etc.—instead of having servers bring over a pre-plated portion for each table. I don't know about you, but whenever I eat pho the garnishes never seem to match what I want; I rarely put in as many sprouts or herbs, and I always end up asking for more limes. A serve-yourself buffet station would allow everyone to get exactly what they need, and decrease waste for the restaurant, too. Brilliant…no?

Err, anyway. Back to the buffet. Pictured here are mac and cheese, corn souffle, meatballs in gravy, a king crab leg, breaded mini hot dogs, a spring roll, a piece of country fried steak with cream gravy, and a piece of smoked salmon with capers. All of it not bad, all of it not great.

The same could be said for the desserts, where one bite of each was pretty much enough. But that's how it goes with buffets, isn't it? You don't go for the high quality of each and every dish, but rather for the unfettered ability to sample your way through as much as you can.


We spent the rest of the afternoon letting our stomachs digest by taking a stroll down the main strip of Black Hawk. Afterward we drove a mile over to the much quieter Central City, where we found tiny casinos set up in houses and former bars and restaurants; it was delightfully strange to walk into a kitchen or a living room and to find it lined with working slot machines. All in all it was a wonderful day excursion, a unique little part of Colorado that I was happy to explore.

Also, one day I'm going to save up my money and buy these ten acres. With views, privacy, access, power, and its own gold mine, surely this is the perfect purchase?

A giant, juicy burger with many hats at Cherry Cricket

So what makes a good burger?

At The Cherry Cricket in Denver's Cherry Creek area, it's an extraordinarily juicy half pound beef patty on a squishy sesame seed bun, along with whatever you desire from a long list of add-ons. In addition to the standard cheeses and vegetables, you can request to top your patty with salsa, peanut butter, guacamole, or sour cream; drown it in green chile; or toss it in spicy blackened seasoning or wing sauce. Standard practice among ES and his friends, too, is to never skip adding a fried egg. But it's easy to overload, so on my visit I went with a more classic version: swiss cheese, sauteed mushrooms, and grilled bermuda onions.

First, though, as part of an ongoing effort to understand Colorado's obsession with green chile, ES and I had Cherry Cricket's version, in the extra-large side portion (you're looking at about six ounces). Unfortunately, this green chile was nothing like what I expected; it was thin, lacked spiciness, and barely tasted of green chiles. (Then again, I'm not really sure what makes a really good rendition—anyone? Suggestions on where to find the best are welcome!) And there were also frings, a mixed basket of onion rings and fries, which were good enough to quickly disappear between all of us.

Then, the main event. I found my burger rather too greasy, the sesame bun so unable to stand up to the copious beef juices that the bottom half completely collapsed into sogginess. The meat seemed as if it could have been more flavorful, too, and as I ate the toppings slid this way and that, a problem of all multiple-topping burgers. Still, it's worth noting that I was alone in my struggle, being squeamish at times about getting grubby while eating; as demonstrated by the above photo, ES and his friends had no problem wolfing their burgers down—oozing yolk, running grease, glistening fingers, and all.

The happiest hour at Colt & Gray

The restaurant Colt & Gray has won more than a few accolades since it opened on Platte Street in Denver several years ago, and is also conveniently located right next to ES's workplace. But how do you eat at a high-end gastropub without dropping a load of cash on a full meal?

Enter happy hour. Colt & Gray has a particularly nice one, boasting a variety of specialty cocktails along with a small, low-priced menu of interesting nibbles.

All of this takes place in the restaurant's elegant and clubby-feeling barroom, full of tall, cushy leather chairs and extremely pleasant, white-aproned servers. So one afternoon ES and I settled ourselves at a corner table—and then proceeded to order nearly everything on the happy hour menu.

Our first drink order consisted of a Sazerac (rye, absinthe, and Peychaud’s bitters) for ES, and a Platte St. Sling (gin, rhubarb, lemon, basil, and club soda) for me. Though ES found my drink too sour, and though I wrinkled my nose at the taste of whiskey in his, we were both perfectly pleased with our choices. I loved the floral sweet-tartness of the cocktail, as well as the surprising saltiness of the olive garnish, and I wasn't a bit sorry that ES wasn't trying to steal sips.

The cocktails made a nice accompaniment to the food—or was it the other way around? The one-bite wings tasted like very tender pieces of barbecued short ribs, or some other kind of fatty, succulent meat; the sheep's milk cheese (whose name I can't remember) came with a delightful apple compote that made a strangely excellent pairing with its funk. And while the gougères were not what I expected—instead of small puffs of a savory pâte à choux, these were Utz cheeseball–sized nuggets dusted with what tasted like a slightly more complex version of neon "cheez" powder, and with an oddly grainy and pasty texture within—they were crisp and warm and made for good snacking.

The only one I wasn't impressed with was the crispy pig trotter, which ES had fondly remembered from past visits. I was imagining a whole, deep-fried pig foot, like something I'd get in a Filipino restaurant, but out came two breaded pucks of chopped and mushy meat in a pool of mild-tasting mustard sauce, the whole of which tasted a lot more like tuna than pork. Nothing against tuna; the disconnect was strange, is all.

And then along came the caramel popcorn. Not just any caramel popcorn, but a bacon and cashew caramel popcorn, each bite smoky and salty and chewy and sweet all at once. It was so good that we ordered it twice, our fingers having reached the bottom of the bowl too soon. Apparently we're not the only ones enamored with this popcorn's charms; the recipe can be found as part of Bon Appétit's 2010 "Best Bar Snacks" feature.

All the while we were having more cocktails, such as the Marguerite (gin, Dolin Blanc vermouth, and orange bitters), the Picador (tequila, lime, and Curaçao), and the Bees Knees (gin, lemon, and honey). I also ordered Colt & Gray's housemade Brandy Milk Punch, which according to the menu consists of "Smith & Cross Jamaican rum, applejack, Batavia Arrack, milk, Teatulia green tea, lemon, and spices." I expected the punch to be, I don't know, milky, but actually it wasn't at all—just clean and sharp with the taste of mingled rums and liqueurs and freshly grated nutmeg.

By the time we left, both of us were full and I was just a little bit tipsy. More than that, however: I was satisfied that I'd taken in not just food and cocktails, but also the pleasures of dining in an eminently civilized, stylish, and somehow still friendly atmosphere—all without breaking the bank. It is obvious that I'll be returning, right?

The tale behind the veal

A new post is coming soon, but in the meanwhile, I thought you guys might enjoy reading a guest post I wrote for the Colorado Review's Editor's Blog. There's a cooking story here, but it's not solely mine—it really begins with that of writer Floyd Skloot and his exploration of preparing a mysterious recipe that surfaced after his mother's passing. Get the full meal, here!