Burrito (see steak knife for scale)
Honey Hill Café
Huckleberry Coffee
Tacos aztecas
More tacos
I recently visited Denver for the first time and thought I'd write up some of the highlights of the food. My friend Molly was gracious enough to host and show me around the Mile High City. The first night, we and another friend visited a speakeasy called Retrograde, ensconced behind a freezer door in an ice-cream shop. There I had my first and perhaps most baffling brush with the law, wherein the bouncer glanced at my driver's license and immediately told me that they couldn't accept identification of vertical orientation. Even more strangely was the fact that he did allow me to use a picture of my passport on my phone, which begs the question of the relative ease of falsifying passport photos over geometric variations of driver's licenses.
Idenfication snafu notwithstanding, we were ushered over the threshold
after a fifteen minute wait and into a dimly lit room with striking
lighting and a projector on the wall. Just as striking were the fancifully
named drinks ("The Amazing Bulk", "Vicious Lips") which combined several
unrecognizable ingredients, such as "chareau" (aloe liqueur), "switched
comoz blanc" (vermouth) with the baffling (acidified carrot). Nonetheless,
they excelled in delivering alcohol and pleasure, ultimately the point of
drinking at all.
The next day began at the diner Sam's No. 3 (of which there are three
locations, as expected, but all with the same number, unexpectedly). As
all good diners, Sam's No. 3 boasts an expansive menu constructed from
every possible combination of ten ingredients (programmatically generating
a 1024 item-menu by combinatorics alone). I elected to try the "Rockies
Burrito", consisting of a flour tortilla filled with not just the usual
breakfast burrito suspects of potatoes, eggs, and cheese, but also
That night, we prepared a simple dinner of panzanella and roasted
vegetables. There's not too much to say here, but I'll note again that
panzanella is another beautiful illustration of the "soggy fried" concept,
though more precisely the bread is just baked to dehydrate it rather than
fried. The key to a good panzanella is good tomatoes, just like many great
pleasures in life (BLTs, tomato sandwiches, caprese salad
A useful maxim is to never make a caprese salad with off season
tomatoes! Lest you be forever disappointed in your life choices.
). In an ideal panzanella, dehydrated bread is reanimated by the rich
liquid extracted from ripe tomatoes, imbuing every bite with both
concentrated tomato flavor and residual crunch from the bread. The
tomatoes themselves add further textural contrast.
As I've been alluding to already, one of Denver's great pleasures is green
chile, more in the
New Mexican
style, though perhaps less well-known. Like New Mexico's famed green
chiles (I'm referring here to the vegetable rather than the stew
Yes, I know that botanically chiles are fruits. The US Supreme Court
would
agree with me
when it comes to common usage, though.
), Colorado's local chiles (apparently called
Pueblo
chiles) are a mainstay in the local chile stew. My wonderful hosts,
Molly's parents, graciously offered to give a taste of their world-famous
green chile. I'll have to check on the specifics of the recipe once I get
them from Molly's dad, but the main components seem to be (besides the
eponymous ingredient) simply tomatoes and garlic for flavor. One can add
pork, but it's not at all necessary. Interestingly, compared with pozole
verde—what I assume must be green chile's ancestor—it uses plain red
tomatoes rather than the green tomatillo (same nightshade family, but
different genuses). However, the rich, complex flavors of the green chiles
are plenty to provide a great depth to the stew and the tomatoes provide
an unexpectedly pleasant acidity. Although you can certainly see the
family resemblance to pozole, the details have on been changed. But they
make for a distinctive eating experience, due to the lower acidity of the
red tomatoes with regard to tomatillos and the different flavors of
typical green chiles. Served with some hominy, fresh cilantro, avocado,
and lime, I have to admit that green chile absolutely
The next day, upon recommendation of Molly parents, I sought out the breakfast burrito at a local café Honey Hill. By now, you should be able to guess that it includes green chile (along with the requisite potatoes and eggs). Lots of breakfast burritos in Denver! Unlike the first one, however, this burrito was manageably sized and texturally homogenous for the most part. Although I've extolled the virtues of texture contrasts, textural homogeneity, especially when it comes to soft foods, can be just as luxurious (think tortilla española). In this case, the eggs and potatoes provided subtle shades of tenderness, with just the right amount of toothsomeness coming from the tortilla. The green chile lent its welcome acidic undertone, much like a good hot sauce does. Overall, a burrito that met its high expectations.
For lunch, we returned to in fact the same corner, just across the street, where the reputed Spinelli's grocery serves a lineup of classic sandwiches. Although their typical sandwiches tend to encompass the more traditional deli makeup of cold cuts and cheeses, I decided on a special of the day with cochinita pibil, slaw, and habanero sauce. The sandwich was served on some kind of roll with a soft, slightly chewy texture that absorbed the juices from the pork admirably. The slaw provided a welcome tangy note and crunchy contrast, but I found the habanero sauce to be rather lacking in fire, given that it was supposed to be made with habaneros. Yucatec food, to my knowledge, is especially spicy given their liberal application of habanero chiles, so I was expecting more of a punch; although, certainly Spinelli's is not known for their Mexican cuisine.
On my final day, we decided one would be remiss in a food tour of Denver
without sampling the tacos. The ever-reliable food publication
Shameless plug:
the map has
recommended coffee shops, roasteries etc. throughout the US and
abroad.
that some friends and I maintain. The shop we visited is located on the
western side of Denver in a neighborhood called Sunnyside. On a side note
unrelated to coffee, we passed several so called
slot homes
in the area, which have apparently generated quite a bit of
hullabaloo
Who knew that it was spelled thus? I certainly did not.
(see the linked article) regarding their rather blatant disregard for
neighborhood atmosphere (and aesthetics, in my opinion). Having all the
doors to peoples homes facing inwards seems like an awful way to stimulate
the natural interaction that characterizes a healthy community, so I was
pleased to hear that the city was trying to place a moratorium on
construction of new slot homes. Digression on urban planning aside, the
coffee at Huckleberry was incredible, and the barista super helpful in
picking out some bags of coffee beans to bring home. These days, when I
visit a new coffee shop, I more often than not order a plain drip coffee
as a useful barometer the shop as a whole (one might also try their plain
espresso, but I don't enjoy that as much). The reasoning goes that making
really good drip coffee requires diligence—good beans and equipment,
obviously, but, most importantly, care in making sure the drip coffee
remains relatively fresh (not letting it turn stale) and as good as the
lattes. Moreover, drip coffee is
After coffee, we took a not-short detour to visit the Red Rock
Amphiteatre, a notable local attraction featuring a naturally occurring
rock amphitheatre purposed for musical events. As a brief note, I find it
incredbly fascinating how the geological topology produces such a
remarkable acoustic in the outdoor venue, and that such a formation just
exists in the mountains for us humans to avail ourselves with. The walk up
and around the amphitheatre helpfully built up an appetite before our
first taco stop at Garibaldi Mexican Bistro (in the southern part of
Denver near Englewood). Most charming about Garibaldi Mexican Bistro is
that it's located
Here are
more
links
(courtesy of Molly) in Spanish with information on the history and
production of cecina.
The first bite of the taco exploded with flavors of each of the
components: smoke and umami from the cecina, acidity from the nopal,
freshness from the vegetables, saltiness from the cheese, piquancy from
the salsa, and a bass-like earthiness from the blue corn tortilla. The
experience felt kaleidoscopic and yet each part felt integral to the
whole, as any good taco should be. To be honest, I am not generally a fan
of nopales due to their sour taste and rather mucilaginous texture, but
here they provided a wonderful bright contrast to the richness of the
meat. Altogether, a 10/10 taco-eating experience for me. Our second and
unfortunately final stop, because the Aztec tacos were so filling, was at
Tacos Tequila Whiskey, with a completely different ambiance—clearly
catering to the yuppie crowd with "an elevated take on street tacos"
(Google's words, not mine). We ordered one pork belly taco with a
crema-based sauce and a grilled mushroom taco with chipotle corn (I also
tried their paloma, which was delicious). The pork belly was succulent and
deeply spiced, almost reminiscent of five-spice pork, while the grilled
mushrooms taco was rich and layered with the corn and creamy sauce. Were
they both delicious? Absolutely. Would I eat them again? Absolutely. Would
I still rather have a banging al pastor taco from a food truck at half the
price? Absolutely. Alas, such is the existence of an upscale taco
restaurant.
So with that, it was time to leave Denver for the time being, but not without a hearty and satisfying introduction to the city's myriad food options. Thanks again to Molly for being such a wonderful host and Denver expert, and I certainly hope to be back soon to continue these delicious adventures.