Seeing Friends and Eating Seafood at Thai Flavor of Aurora

A few weeks ago, my family and I had the pleasure of once again sharing a dining table with Mark Antonation, who now has a public forum for his food eating opinions at Westword.com; Denveater, who writes what I consider our city's best all-around food blog; and Denveater's partner in life, food and most importantly, film, the Director,  We broke bread-- or noodles-- way out in the heart of Aurora, at an East-side favorite of mine, Thai Flavor. Here are some snippets from our subsequent email conversations about that night. For some more on Thai Flavor, check out Denveater's post, and for all your adventures on the Peoria Street of Denver, check out Mark's blog on Westword's Cafe Society, A Federal Case.

Me: I cannot recall the name of my entree. That is not to say it wasn't memorable, but I was distracted at times from my meal and otherwise stimulating conversation by the throwing of broccoli, tossing of rice and an admirable go at ripping to shreds an entire phone book. Yes, as you may recall, my boys were there, who are in the full throes of their terrific twos. So what can I say about my entree? I remember liking it. And I remember the big chunks of calamari, the 2 or 3 well-cooked mussels, the shrimp and the sweet sear of my not-too-spicy sauce.

DV: I agree we were all a bit distracted...not just by little squirmers! It was also that we were sitting at a table near the entrance in the middle of the room in broad daylight. It's always hard for me to concentrate when I feel like we're circling our wagons on the prairie. I definitely get that old urban myth about mobsters insisting on sitting with their backs to the walls. And there was lots of back-&-forthing with the adorably gregarious old guy who, I assume, was the owner.

Me: I take responsibility for all that. Eating at 5pm is now the standard for my family, and we were headed to a nice booth in the back, but I thought the boys would be best entertained sitting by the fish tank up front-- they were, for about five minutes. 

MA:  The giddiness of the two toddlers who shared our table may have rubbed off on me (Me: That is the nice was to say, "Your babies are fucking nuts!"). Concentrating on food took a vague second – or even third – place to catching up with Denveater, the Director, and the Denver-on-a-Spit family. The other customers and the good-natured proprietor further distracted me.

Me: I liked the first couple of shared appetizers best. It may be that at that point my boys were happily tearing through a plate of fried rice which left me free to indulge my attentions to the dishes at hand, or it may be that that eggplant salad, with its soft, not-bitter-at-all Chinese eggplants, steamed shrimp and fried egg was just a fabulous and unique plate. I have to say, I love a salad where the only greens are a few sprigs of basil.

MA: What stood out to me above the sauces and proteins were a few unique preparations and ingredients that I’d never experienced before. Was the eggplant in that salad pickled, or just cooked to bring out the crisp freshness of a vegetable that generally flaunts its dull, spongy, and mushy attributes? It certainly had the firmness and verve of a farmhouse pickle. 

DV:  The marinated-eggplant salad with shrimp, strips of sweet omelet, red onion, & basil is the masterpiece here. It's so colorful & unusual: by turns tangy & delicated, sharp & soft, crunchy & silken-textured.

Me: And the same might be said for the fish cakes, though in a different way. The crunchy, thick fried fish mash was balanced perfectly by the fish-sauce-laden spicy cucumber-peanut-cilantro salad that accompanied it. I loved that dish.

DV: I don't think the fish cakes themselves or the fried catfish were quite as successful, simply because they weren't quite hot enough to remain ultra-crisp for long. The potential was there, though—both dishes were put together well, the coating was deft, the flavors clear & bright. 

Me: Quite so. I didn't love the catfish for that reason, and in times past, those fish cakes have packed more crunch.

MA: Those quartered bites of Thai green eggplant in the fried catfish also had a little snap, more like a lightly sautéed green tomato, but with just enough meatiness to absorb the heat and pungent flavors of the sauce.

DV: The key difference between mediocre & quality Thai, in my book, is that the latter is surprisingly subtle. People often refer to the importance of balance between the elements—sweet, spicy, salty, sour, bitter—and while I agree with that, I'd add that the ideal result is above all refreshing; the brushstrokes aren't as bold as they are in, say, Malaysian/Indonesian/Singaporean cuisine. Seemed to me Thai Flavor nailed that distinction in almost all the dishes we tried: from the steamed mussels with a vibrant dipping sauce—not the ubiquitous, neon-pink, sweet-chili stuff but just a simple blend of fish sauce, citrus, & fresh chilies—to Mantonat's jungle curry & our seafood stir-fries, which were all exceptionally light, fresh, crisp, & peppery. The seasoning showcased the main ingredients rather than the other way around. 

Me: True, though I wasn't overly impressed with the spiciness at Thai Flavor. I did only order "hot" and not "Thai Hot", Nevertheless, the man who seemed to be the owner did give the typical Thai-friendly polite-though-scoffing laugh of caution about ordering too hot, so I expected a little more burn and nasal clearing from my dish. But the jump up to Thai Hot might be exponential. And for an extra fun kick, the one condiment with the mix of red and green sliced peppers was tremendously hot, and so I did get that familiar Thai burn that builds and builds past heat, through pain and to a sort of numbed pleasure-state that I so often strive for when I eat Thai.

Overall I like Thai Flavor a lot, and I still feel like there is a lot on that menu that I want to try. Clearly the specialty is seafood, but most of what we had was so good it would be worth checking out as much as possible on that menu. I have a feeling we'll all be back in this part of town sooner than later, because the allure of international eating variety in that neighborhood is too much to resist. 

Dining Out with Denveater at Zengo's Next Door Neighbor: Al Lado

For a couple years now Denveater and I have been bantering back and forth about restaurants we visit together with our respective significant others in tow. If you don't know her blog or her writing, then you owe it to yourself to check her out. If there is someone in Denver I consider a go-to for food recommendations and general knowledge, it is her. The other night we found ourselves once again with drink in hand and food on table at the opening of Richard Sandoval's latest (and almost certainly not last) restaurant foray in our fair town. 

When I heard about Al Lado opening, I said to myself: "Another Richard Sandoval restaurant? This guy has more restaurants than all the Food Network stars combined." I like some of his Denver ventures very much, while at others the quality seems to waiver.  What are your thoughts on this restaurant mogul's Denver footprint? 

Here's my feeling: a chef with imperial aspirations had better be a damned inspiring teacher and employer if his worldly outposts are going to succeed in his absence. I've never known a one to expand beyond four or five restaurants in multiple cities without some risk to the reputation for quality that allowed him or her to expand in the first place. For me, Todd English is the ultimate cautionary tale, almost single-handedly putting the Boston dining scene on the map back in the 1990s with Olives and Figs before getting too big for his chef's whites and becoming a kitchenware-hawking, bride-jilting, rent-ducking tabloid joke. 

Sandoval doesn't appear to have been bitten by the fame bug to the extent English was; he seems to be a stand-up guy with a work ethic that, as I understand it, keeps him on the road most of the time, doing quality control at his operations all over the globe—I believe there are about 30 from Denver to Dubai. Even so, any given restaurant is only as good as its chef de cuisine, and the really good ones tend to move on quickly with ambitions of their own (case in point: Troy GuardTK got his start with Sandoval). I've had decent but never memorable meals at Tamayo. I've had absolutely swoony experiences at Zengo—and utterly disappointing ones. The one time I was at Venga Venga in Snowmass, the food was killer—but Sandoval was on-site; whether the kitchen is as deft when he isn't I can't say. (Haven't been to La Sandía.) Ultimately I consider Zengo the most stimulating and distinctive of the bunch; it's his statement on Latin-Asian fusion that's definitive, I think.

After finally getting a chance to meet him he seemed like a genuinely likable guy and a consummate restaurant professional. You did an interview with him a couple years back. What was that like? Where can we find it? 

Yeah, I included him in the Meals That Made Them series that I do with a longtime Boston colleague, Louisa Kasdon, for Zester Daily. That interview, which took place on the terrace of Venga Venga, was super-easy—he was very gracious, relaxed and yet focused, which I appreciated. It was nice to get a glimpse of him as a kid growing up with a formidable-sounding abuela in Mexico, and to hear firsthand his genuine passion for the cuisine of his homeland. 

I like wine well engouh (though I am much more of a beer and whiskey person) and Al Lado certainly seems to have picked some winners on its list. I had a Tempranillo that was silky smooth and a Rioja that was, well, very good. Good and smooth are about the breadth of my wine-modifying adjectives. Please drop some knowledge on us regarding the wines you had and what you liked (or didn't) about that wine list.

Ha. Well, like you, I appreciate the fact that it's succinct and conceptually appropriate, in terms both of its dedication to Spanish and South American bottles—only 2 of 20 bottles are otherwise—and its format, with all offerings by the half- and full pour as well as the bottle. I also think that it's sufficiently progressive, taking some chances with lesser-known varietals like Viura and Montrasell (at prices befitting a tapas bar to boot).  

The menu is tapa-like. Some in a traditional Spanish way, others in the broad sense of being a small plate of food. What worked for you? What didn't?

It's fun to compare my reaction to your response—we totally agree about the bacon-wrapped, cheese-stuffed dates, which may be ubiquitous, but they don't always stand out. These were especially luscious due to the quality of each ingredient, starting with those fat dates. However, I really liked the patatas bravas, all the more for being kinda weird; I'd have sworn they were tater tots, and only now that I look back at the photo I see they weren't! Just unusually soft and fluffy somehow. To me they didn't seem underseasoned, though the chorizo-crumbled chipotle romesco certainly enhanced them. Even weirder, I don't even remember eating lamb meatballs! Did I like them?

Everyone likes lamb meatballs, so yes. After four glasses of wine and a cocktail, however, anything can be amazing and then completely forgotten. (But these were a standout.)

My favorite thing, though, was the fluke crudo with rhubarb, strawberry, and pickled garlic vinaigrette. Crudo preparations are often too gingerly; I understand that you don't want to impinge on the delicacy of the fish, but you're not doing it any favors by showcasing it against a bland backdrop either. This had some oomph without seeing any less pristine.

Will you go back? And if you had to choose: Ondo's or Al Lado? 

I'll definitely return for some of the funkier-sounding plates we didn't try, like the anchovy, quail egg, white bean, and peppadew panzanella or the short rib en cazuela with parsnips and olives. And Al Lado is much sexier than rather homely Ondo's. Whether the output will prove as special or memorable remains to be seen, but I suspect there's room for both.  

Yes, Ondo's is stuck with a most unfortunate location but I wouldn't call it homely. For my spin on Ondo's, Al Lado and more, please visit Denveater's site where she was brave enough to post my thoughts on this new restaurant. 

Around the Table at Phoenician Kabob

I first dined at Phoenician Kabob in 2009, not too long after it had opened its doors. I enjoyed it and returned a few times but I thought they took too many shortcuts for the prices they charged and I hated the fact that the pita was of the store-bought variety. Then recently I stopped in for a falafel sandwich to-go, opened it and found it surprisingly wrapped in a delicate, house made pita. I was intrigued by the pita upgrade and convinced the prolific Denveater (DV) as well as my most recent food-loving chum, Mantonat (M), to join me for a full meal. What follows is our two cents on what I am calling "the new and improved" Phoenecian Kabob. And for more lovely photos, please visit Denveater. 

We ate a lot that day, what was your favorite?

M - The stuffed grape leaves seemed to have been pan roasted, which gave them added dimensions of flavor and texture. This dish can tend toward mushy, slimy, and tinny, but these were tightly rolled, firm, and compact like little cigars. 

DOAS - Those were unique, and I am partial to the slimier version, but I can never get enough of stuffed grape leaves. My favorite was the Manakeish Bizzatar—the bubbly, pizza-like flatbread absolutely covered in thyme and sesame seeds and dotted with wonderful fresh pickles. I don't know if they changed how they make it but I remember it as clearly better than the last time I had it there. 

DV - I haven't met the garlic dip I didn't like, but this one's special. It bites you first and tingles all the way down, but it's also silky, ribboned with olive oil and brightened with parsley—and, of course, it comes with those rounds of pita, puffed like sopapillas, straight from the oven. And totally agreed about the grape leaves—they were clearly housemade, which isn’t often the case, and the exterior was unusual, almost crisp.

Did you not like anything?

DV - The hummus isn't my favorite; PK's style emphasizes ground chickpeas, whereas I like it creamy and distinctly laced with lemon juice and tahini.

DOAS – I actually didn’t care for my wife’s dish, makloubeh, I think it was called. It was saffron rice with chunks of beef and potatoes. It was just too plain and way too starchy. At first I was jealous when I saw the heaping plate, but I much preferred my meaty combo.

Anything else worth mentioning?

M - My order of beef shawarma was tender and well-seasoned. I don't eat this dish often enough to know the subtleties of preparation from region to region or chef to chef, but the combination of spicy beef, garlic dip (which also came with the shawarma dish), and fresh pita was well worth the lunch-special price.

DV- A close second to the garlic dip was the airy, naturally tangy-smoky baba ghanoush. I liked the manaqish too, but I prefer Amira Bakery’s, which is more luscious, whether with za’atar or a blanket of spiced ground lamb; they’re pretty liberal with the olive oil

DOAS – I agree with the baba ghanoush. It is my favorite in all of Denver. And true, Amira makes the best that I know of around town. But I was very happy with my lamb shawarma, which had a nice grilled char on the outside but was left just shy of well-done so that it was still nice and tender.

Top to bottom: chicken, lamb, kafta kabobs

When I first wrote about PK I wrote about the irony of the pita bread being clearly store-bought when literally across the street is a pita bakery. The fact that the pita is made in house now and so delicate and fluffy, with perfect little burn marks made me ecstatic. I love it when a restaurant gets better, which is what happened with PK for me since I was last there a couple years ago. Is PK the best Middle Eastern restaurant in Denver? If not, what is? 
M- I was impressed with the service here as well as the food. Our young waiter was polite, knowledgeable, and attentive and kept his smile and good attitude despite how long we stayed and how long the check sat there untouched before we finally paid. I have to give a restaurant credit when they get both right.

DV - It's certainly one of them, in my view; I also really like Amira Bakery, Mecca Grill , and House of Kabob. And I have soft spots for Ya Hala and Jerusalem too.  

DOAS – Yes, I suppose it does depend, but for a sit down table service Middle Eastern place—from service to ambiance to food—it is becoming my top choice.

And on that same theme- what is your "most improved" restaurant? 

M- Bistro Vendome has recently gone from good to great. I've always enjoyed the atmosphere, the drinks list, and the glazed French fries, but last time we ate there I was blown away by the attention to detail and the depth of flavor in everything I tried. With improved service and soulful cooking, I think it has finally become more than just a Larimer Street tourist spot.

DOAS – Good to know, my thrifty nature is always drawn to one thing there: $9 weekday mussels and frites.

DV - The transformations happened some time ago, but I’d vote for The Village Cork since Samir Mohammad came on board and Root Down since Justin Cucci brought in Daniel Asher; both found their culinary identity under those talents. Will Cisa's also brightly polished The Corner Office's edges.

What's up with the Sriracha in a Middle Eastern restaurant? For that matter, what's up with Sriracha everywhere? 

DV- It's the new ketchup. Personally, I could put Chinese black vinegar on anything and everything.

M- Are the Middle Eastern restaurants just responding to demand from customers or does Sriracha actually enhance the flavors of Middle Eastern cuisine? Seems like the heat and sweetness would overwhelm the subtle and complex spices of some of the dishes. I'm all for condiments, but with all the great sauces and dips - like that tangy yogurt-based sauce that came with the stuffed grape leaves - I don't feel the need for the additional cultural pilfering.

DOAS - I burned out on the stuff in college, though I am thankful for its subsistence when the groceries were otherwise scarce--it is surprisingly tasty (and filling) on a plain Saltine.

Having a couple drinks with lunch on a Saturday used to mean a nice nap or a long, long night. Seeing as how I can do neither anymore, did you either of you indulge in these coveted activities? Do tell, much of my enjoyment these days is vicarious. 

DV - We totally napped! But mostly we groaned.

M- I had a glass of arak over ice and a Lebanese beer (Almaza), which may have been one too many considering that we had to return home to finish painting our kitchen. Arak is the Lebanese version of the typical Mediterranean anise-flavored spirit. It's intensely herbal and the oils from the botanicals turn the drink cloudy when cold water or ice are added. I could actually see the oils form a film on the side of the glass. I would recommend it only for the most avid anise fans.

DOAS –  OK, that puts it in perspective. I would have much rather chased my kids around than paint my kitchen. 

We were late because we got distracted by the antique store across the street that is worth checking out. I ended up with an old Michele Shocked LP which was a lot more country than I remember and has left me creepily singing "When I grow up I want to be an Old Woman" all day at work on Monday. Did you end up going? 

M- That was a great little antique store. I think the owner was trying to sell us on an old hospital gurney, but we walked out empty handed. 


We also had some powerful coffee, visit Denveater's site for more on that as well as many more mouth-watering photos. 

A Culinary Three-Way: Axios, Axios and more Axios

Years ago, in times when my wife and I could travel freely throughout the world without worries, we spent a week or so visiting some dear friends in Astoria, Queens. Astoria is a great example of New York's incredible diversity, and has always been known as its Greek Oasis.  

Needless to say, Greek restaurants abounded in Astoria, but there was one in particular that my wife and I stopped in over and over again during that trip. We would pass by it walking home from the train and on some nights we would stop in for a nightcap of some perfectly executed Greek delicacy--not because we were hungry, but just because it was that good. At the time it made me realize how much I missed well-prepared, fresh Greek food and it made me a little sad to think that back in Denver were mostly diner-style Greek options--some good Gyros--but nothing truly great. 

So it was with great anticipation that I awaited a meal at Denver's newest Greek option, Axios Estiatorio, after making plans to eat there with Denveater and the infamous Mantonat--along with all our significant others. What follows is a part one of a two-part post of our three takes on a fun night at Axios. For part two, visit Denveater's blog. Ready, set, go!

Dish 1: Kalamari

Mantonat: I haven't eaten calamari in a restaurant in ages, mostly because of the lack of variety and originality in the presentation: flavorless, chewy deep-fried rings with a dipping sauce just have limited appeal. These were delicious though; tender and tasting of the ocean and covered in a beautifully complex broth rather than a layer of oily breading.

Denveater: I could've slurped down that broth even without the squid; containing both white wine and sherry, olives and capers, garlic and onions (as well as tomatoes and spinach), it had unusual vibrancy depth of flavor.

DOAS: My wife loves calamari almost as much as she loves pickled pig’s feet (I'm happy to say that I make her top five most days, depending on her mood). I wasn't all that excited to see it drenched in so much broth, but although it was too salty in my opinion, it did have a nice, rich flavor, and the calamari was well cooked.

Dish 2: Kolokithikeftedes

Denveater: From the description, "zucchini and feta fritters," I expected pungent little breaded and deep-fried orbs, not light, tender mini-latke-like objects that were all about their vegetal flavor, enhanced by tzatziki that was especially chunky with cucumber. In short, what I thought would be guilty pleasures turned out to be borderline healthful, which actually made them that much more pleasurable.

Mantonat: Yes, this was another dish I expected to be deep-fried. Instead, they were delicate pancakes with a tangy yogurt sauce. A nice appetizer with a starting beer—but I wish restaurants would just skip the pale winter tomatoes.

DOAS As you both commented, this was a pleasant surprise for not being a deep-fried greasy patty—although when I write that, I think to myself: "A deep-fried patty dripping with oil sounds pretty damn good." I agree that they were fresh and light—borderline healthy with all that vegetable flavor.

Dish 3: Dolmades

DOAS: This was my favorite. Dolmades of any kind are one of my many food loves. There is something about those slimy, slippery green leaves that I can't get enough of. These were the two biggest dolmades that I have ever eaten, which is something noteworthy in my personal stuffed-grape-leaf-eating life, but they were also excellent—both on their own and with the creamy, velvety lemon sauce.

Denveater: Agreed—a distinctive, elegant variation on the traditional version, thanks both to the wine-steeped and pinenut-studded rice filling and that rich splash of lemon cream.

Dish 4: Lamb Giouvetsi

DOAS: I don't say this too often about lamb dishes, but I didn't like this plate very much at all. The tomato sauce was way too much for me and overall it just wasn't, well, all that good. It was too bad as the orzo was nice, the lamb was falling off the bone and luscious, but that sauce literally drowned it all out.

Denveater: I only tasted the orzo in roasted tomato sauce enriched with lamb drippings, and for me it was just right—robust, tangy, nutty from the grain. The Director sided with you completely, however.

So there you have it, half of our meal from Axios. I must say that I had some wildly high hopes for Axios, and while it wasn't a perfect meal for me, it was still very good and the service was excellent, the atmosphere welcoming and there was Greek wine aplenty. For more on all that, read part two of this post on Denveater's blog.

El Estilo Jalisco Has Arrived in Denver: Carne en su Jugo at El Olvido with Denveater

El Olvido, which translates literally to "oblivion", is the newest business to occupy the building at 2200 South Broadway. You wouldn't be amiss to think this eatery was named for the restaurant-swallowing hole that this building has become over the years--maybe in an attempt to take on the jinx head on--and while that may be part of the intention, El Olvido comes from the line to a song Ella by the famous Mariachi singer Jose Alfredo Jimenez: "Quise hayar el olvido al estilo Jalisco" (I wanted to reach oblivion Jalisco-style). Indeed El Olvido is homage to great things from the state of Jalisco, of which three of the most notorious are tequila, mariachi and carne en su jugo.

My wife and I met Denveater and her beau a couple weeks back at El Olvido, tempted by the first restaurant I know of in Denver to feature this great regional dish which translates literally to "meat in its juices" (a wonderful name by the way). Being that I have two 4-month old boys whose mother would rather not have me show them my tequila-face just yet, and since Denveater and the Director had big plans of painting their house that day, we abstained from the tequila (though we did enjoy some lovely micheladas). And as far as the third Jalisco specialty, mariachis, it was only noon on a Saturday and there were none to be found.

In fact sadly enough, there was no one at all to be found in El Olvido save a server, a cook and a couple of kids running around on the patio. Let's hope that chef and owner Jorge Pingarron can be more sucessful than his predecessors and that Denver will come to embrace his carne en su jugo.

Here's what Denveater had to say about our day there, and for my words, go to her blog here.

Me: What was your first impression of El Olvido?
DV: In a word, hesitant. First of all, it seems to me an opportunity to redecorate has been missed; the dining room's as nondescript as it was under previous ownership. Given the revolving-door curse that's been on this space for the past few years, with restaurants coming and going, you'd think they'd want to inject some new mojo, give it some life. Second,  but for us, it was totally empty the entire time we were there. Third, what was with the opera screening on the two mounted TVs? At least a telenovela would've been more fitting. But I felt a little better upon sitting down to find that they'd started you off with chips and a giant helping of refried beans studded with corn kernels rather than the usual salsa. The stuff wasn't attractive, but it was good. 


Me: Yes, opera on TV and salsa music overhead was a strange and novel combination. I'd like to know why no mariachi?

Me: The name for El Olvido comes from the lyrics a classic Mariachi tune. In typical Mariachi style, it is mostly about drowning one’s sorrows in tequila (Jalisco-style) while pining over an unrequited love. Not exactly Saturday brunch material. Maybe that is why it was so empty. We should go back in the evening sometime, sidle up to the bar and open up a bottle of Herradurra. Then we might have a different impression of the place. You in? 

DV: Um, yes. We're in. Besides, I bet evening light softens the starkness of the interior.

Hopefully not a sign of things to come...

Me: The menu was interesting. Relatively short but rather diverse in Mexican regional specialties with random moments of fusion. What did you think? And how were the wings? 

DV: Clearly, the kitchen's far less concerned with being all things to all people, offering something for everyone, than it is with getting a few things right for a specific set of customers: those who appreciate the opportunity to experience something new, to learn something about Mexican culinary traditions that aren't well known in these parts. That's what excites and impresses me most about the place so far. I can get burritos and tacos anywhere; not so the dishes on El Olvido's short menu. 

The wings were good—not great, but solid. Well-seasoned, though something about the texture made me wonder if they'd been precooked and reheated. They weren't served with the advertised avocado sauce, though there was already some on the table, so that was an acceptable oversight.

Me: The obvious draw of this Jalisco-themed restaurant is the Carne en Su Jugo. Did it live up to your expectations? 

DV: Well, I really didn't know what to expect. With the hindsight of online research, I  see that preparations can vary from soupy to chunky, more stewlike; ours was the former, but I think I'd prefer the latter, simply because it gets pretty messy, spooning soup into tortillas and then adding more liquids in the form of three side sauces. That said, I loved the overall effect of all those ingredients together—the mixture of broth-simmered beef and beans with the two excellent salsas, one based on vinegar and red chiles and the other on avocado and green chiles, as well as cooling, creamy ranch and a squirt of fresh lime juice.

Me: Our friendly server had improbably long eyelashes. Gravity-defying, mesmerizing and elegant eyelashes. You don’t have to say anything about that, I just thought it was worth mentioning again. 

DV: Ha. Yes it is.

Me: This is basically like a neighborhood restaurant for you and the director. You’ve seen places come and go at this location over the years. Will El Olvido make it onto your regular list? Will it make it at all? 

DV: I'd like to go back at least once to try the fish platter with the chile poblano con crema; if that's at least as good as the things we tried, I could see us stopping by now and then. Whether we'd become regulars is a different matter—although if we did, who knows what other, lesser known specialties we might discover that the chef makes off-menu?


Me: Me too, and I will say that both the red snapper tacos and the enormous Ceasar salad were very good. 

The salad, of course, being that it was invented in Tijuana was the more "traditional" Mexican dish of the two: 

One last question. You said something about painting your house that afternoon. How did carne en su jugo and micheladas affect those plans?

DV: Oh yeah! We went to Home Depot right after lunch, loaded up on supplies, got home, and decided it was pointless—too close to happy hour. So that was that. We are not very domestically ambitious.

A Last Meal of Sorts at Silla Korean BBQ

As you may know by reading the last paragraph of this prior post (OK, I know very few make it to the last paragraph) I have had my hands busy with the recent arrival of twin babies. For the most part when it comes to food and family, more is better, and these past three weeks--however exhausting they have been-- have proved to be no exception. But while my world now revolves around feeding, crapping and diaper changes (well, I suppose not much has changed except for the diapers) it is nice to poke my head out of the maelstrom from time to time and check in on the world through the lens of the internet. This time I thought it would be nice to post about the very last meal that my wife and I ate as a childless couple.

It was fitting that this "last" meal was shared with our good friends Denveater and her beau the Director. We broke bread (or dumplings) in a small booth of Silla, possibly my favorite Korean BBQ restaurant in the city. What follows are some thoughts she had on our night. For my words, go to her blog.

Me: You and the director were in hurry to get a few drinks down that night so you beat us there by about a half-hour. What was your first impression of Silla? 

Her: Okay, this may be TMI, but when we walked in, we couldn’t help but notice the elderly, disabled man seated at the table across from us. It was clear the employees knew him well; though he was with his family, it was they who were spoon-feeding him now and then, wiping his mouth. There were dribbles on his clothes, spills on the floor. When they left someone cleaned up the mess. It wasn’t pleasant, but that was the reality. I found it touching that he was being treated with such respect, like any other customer, not hidden away in a corner.

The overall vibe is very warm, despite the fact that the décor is totally nondescript. You could as easily mistake it for a pizza parlor or a barbecue shack if it weren’t for all the families and hulking teenage boys, mostly Korean, chowing down. Great people watching here.

And how was your sake?

As for the sake, it was your basic cheap stuff, served warm. Soju is of course what we should have had—but the Director’s goal was to thaw out his insides, and I was fine with that. I’ll drink anything except mass-produced American lager, and I’d probably even drink that if it were my only option, alcohol-wise.

You were set on ordering Naeng myun. We did and I thought it was great. Did it meet your expectations and how would you describe it? 

Naeng myun (here listed as  yu-chun chik mool nengmyun). It’s a cold buckwheat noodle soup, generally eaten in summer, but I had to get it despite the nasty weather because I love it so. The key is the broth, which is refreshingly sour—a combination of beef or chicken broth and rice vinegar. The mound of noodles in the center of the bowl is topped with slices of cold boiled beef, julienned cucumber and radish, and slices of hard-boiled egg. Silla’s version did not include the sliced Asian pear that’s also common, which was a slight disappointment because the crisp fruit contrasts so well with the meat, while its acidity softly highlights the tangy broth. But otherwise it hit the spot.  

How about that button? 

Hilarious. As awkward as we felt about using it, it definitely comes in handy when the place is packed and there are only two servers working the floor. You gotta wonder though if it gets to be a nuisance, with little kids and drunk teens pressing it all the time, to the point where they just ignore it, like a car alarm.

What about the rest of the meal? 
Of course, we ordered (and ate) way too much as usual—if we’d just had the kalbi (here galbee) with all those pan chan, the four of us would have been fine. Yes, the short-rib meat was positively silky, and I was especially fond of the marinated eggplant on the side. That said, I know you’re going to disagree with me on this, but I think the barbecue at Korea House is just as good as Silla’s. Someday, when you’re no longer so overwhelmed by new parenthood, I’ll drag you there for comparison’s sake.

Meanwhile, we learned a lesson regarding bibimbop: you have to scrape up the rice stuck to the bottom of the pan before it cools, or it’ll harden in place. Those crunchy bits are the best part! Still, it was beautifully done, with a perfect, molten yolk on top. Those jumbo dumplings stuffed with kimchi were the surprise hit, however. Despite their ridiculous size—no way you could pick one up with chopsticks—the dough was still thin enough that you could see through it to the filling, which was great, plenty spicy but tempered with, what did we decide it was, soft bits of tofu?

If we’d had another hour and more than one stomach each, I’d also have insisted on oyster pancake. Except then we’d probably have ended up at the hospital too, you guys emerging with twins and us leaving with a half-digested mass of fermented cabbage.

That meal at Silla was our last meal as a free and independent couple for at least the next 18-26 years (depending on how long my boys will end up living in my basement). As far as last meals go it wasn't too bad-- what would your last meal be?

Ha, that's great—I'm honored it was with us!

Well, if it could be anywhere, I'd fly to Boston to go to Neptune Oyster—which will always be my home away from home since literally the day it opened. It's a seafood-centric little neighborhood joint in the North End that, for all its laurels (it served as the setting for Ben Affleck and Rebecca Hall's first date in The Town), never rests on them, turning out the most surprising dishes, like fried oysters with pickled beef tongue, time after time. I'm hoping TAG Raw Bar will have half its mojo.

But if I were here in Denver, I'd probably empty my bank account at Beatrice & Woodsley.  From the moody, transporting decor to the inventive small plates, there's just no place quite like it—anywhere.

Good Signs with Denveater: A Collaboration

"...I try to encourage our collaboration and find the best way that will produce fruit. I like fruit. I like cherries, I like bananas."

-Jim Jaramusch

A few weeks ago Denver's own Denveater contacted me with an idea for a post. She asked me if I could put together some thoughts about signs that cue me in to a restaurant potentially being good. Well, despite the fact that putting together thoughts is something I do with great difficulty, I did manage to dig up some ideas and send them to her. I suppose in the end all that it involved was making sweeping statements of a general nature, and that is something I am actually quite good at doing.

I had a lot of fun writing this one, and Denveater also rounded up a couple of her Boston pals (Hidden Boston and MC Slim JB) to pitch in as well. So please go on over to her blog and have a read for what is my first collaborative post in my brief pseudo-journalistic hobby-career.

Click Here: Good Signs with Denveater

Thanks for checking in and hope you keep reading.