Boom! La Guarida Cubana Cafe in Park Hill

While nothing like the food truck boom, the now-dissipating burger boom or even the under-appreciated cupcake boom, Denver is experiencing something of a boom when it comes to Cuban food. If we are talking pure numbers, it might not seem that impressive: two new restaurants this year. But if we are talking percentages, I think we may have about doubled our Cuban-ness in that same time. And if we are talking family-run, home-cooking-like Cuban cafes, the growth is exponential. Boom.

The Guarida Cubana in Park Hill makes for the second of Denver's family-run Cuban cafes, something of a dream come true for me and my voracious Cuban sandwich appetite. I recently wrote about the other (Cuban) family-run joint way over on the West side of town, so it is nice to see the Cuban scales tipping back East, because while I don't ever mind driving across town for a good meal, the closer the better.

La Guarida is a small storefront on the South Side of Colfax near Jasmine that, like many other great restaurants, you could drive right by without noticing if you didn't have a good nose for Cubans (sandwiches, that is). Unlike many of my other senses that are dull, clumsy and largely useless in my advancing age; my Cuban sense is still strong, and I had this place sniffed out even before it was open for business. Imagine my disappointment when I walked up only to find that it wasn't opening for several more weeks. Then, as is often the case these days, it took me several months to make it back and at least another to write about it.

The night we finally made it in, we were greeted by the quiet but cordial Rosell family, owner's of La Guarida, and they motioned for us to choose a table from the small, empty dinging room. Despite the table service, the vibe at La Guarida was that of few frills. The interior was simple: red-checked table cloths and a few pictures of Cuba hanging from the otherwise bare brick walls. I tend to like simple and straightforward in my restaurants, so everything seemed just about right to me so far. We sat and I got busy ordering my Cuban.

When my Cuban came out I was happy to see it stacked with thick-sliced ham. The bread glistened in the late afternoon light and a line of bright yellow mustard popped out from amongst a pair of sliced pickles. A thin-but-not-too-thin slice of grilled pork stuck out from the top. It looked quite lovely.

And it tasted lovely too. Much of what I liked about this sandwich was that it was thick with meat. The bread was decent as well, grilled and pressed to a delicate crisp. It was a more-than-worthy Cuban and reason alone to return.

I got excited when sitting down to write this and neglected to mention that prior to my sandwich I was served this:

This was a chicken empanada. While innocuous as it may look in the picture above, it was undercooked pastry dough (though flaky and light) filled with some of the driest and blandest semi-ground white meat I have ever eaten. In fact, I wasn't even sure if it was chicken or pork. It didn't necessarily taste bad, it just didn't taste. Dipped in the garlicky sauce it came with helped some, but there was not much good to say about this empanada. 

My wife's dish, however, turned out to be quite good. She ordered the completa del dia, which was a heaping plate of Moros (black beans and rice), fried plantain and a nicely cooked pork chop. 

Though extremely simple and in many ways nothing spectacular, everything was right about this dish, and it was a fine example of Cuban comfort cooking. The pork was moist, the Moros were flavorful and the plantain was fried to perfection. Something I could eat every night of the week.

The boiled yuca we ordered was also good. Again, a simple dish of Cuban comfort. What, in fact, could be more simple that a boiled root vegetable. But it was excellent dipped in the same garlic sauce that could not save that worthless empanada.

We finished the night by splitting a small but richly flavored flan. I skipped the cafe con leche as, I have alluded to in other posts, I really can't stand milk or sugar of any kind in my coffee. I'm sure it's good if you like those kinds of things, but I decided to pass and let the sweet flavor of flan linger all the way home. 

La Guarida Cubana is a welcome addition to East Colfax and while it might not measure up to the warm welcome and all-round quality of its cross-town counterpart, it is certainly worth stopping in and sitting down for a helping of Cuban comfort--and, most importantly, a good Cuban sandwich. 

Finally: Frijoles Colorado Cuban Cafe

I once wrote about a small Cuban joint in Sunnyside and mused, among other things, on how I secretly hoped it was owned by a Cuban family with recipes passed down over generations. I also was hoping it was home to a worthy Cuban sandwich. In the end I was disappointed--not because it was owned by some non-Cubans--but because for the first time in my life I didn't care all that much for my Cuban sandwich.

Fast forward two-and-a-half years, a few dozen Cuban sandwiches later and enter Frijoles Colorado Cuban Cafe in far Western Lakewood. Frijoles Colorado is owned by the Negrin family-- a family of Cuban descent not-too-far-removed from their most recent home, Miami. I have heard nothing but good things about their food (starting with this great Westword review) and by opening their doors in Denver earlier this year they have filled a niche long-vacant in Denver: A casual, Cuban-owned Cuban Cafe making Cuban food from scratch.

As it has been a while since my last serious Cuban foray, let me keep my new readers up to date by reiterating my stance on this pork-filled sandwich: I love it. When done right there are few sandwiches that come close. I think I once referred to it as a "minor obsession", but I think that it has only slowly become "minor" over my eleven years in Denver out of necessity. I have reduced my Cuban intake dramatically since moving to Cuban-sparse Denver from the relatively more Cuban-dense Chicago, based on simple supply and demand. There is one Cuban I really like in town, and while I do go back with some regularity--and it stays consistently good--I need variety in order to keep any of my food-related obsessions going.

That brings me back to the Negrin family opening up a Cuban cafe in Colorado. Allow me to clarify my stance on this event: I couldn't be happier.

The Frijoles Colorado family sedan

The Denver On a Spit family finally happened upon Frijoles Colorado after spending a long morning in the nearby foothills outside of Genesee. Our babies were tired and it was a risky call dragging them out of their cozy car seats, but I did like any good dad would do, and I couldn't rightly let them miss out on their first Cuban meal. "Trust me," I told them as they were rubbing their eyes from fatigue, not understanding any words coming out of mouth, "You'll thank me for this later."

Frijoles is decidedly casual, with its counter service and informal dining room. It is also incredibly welcoming and refreshingly busy. The vibe is friendly and the Negrin family is endlessly bantering with its customers (many of whom seem to be regulars already), sharing their passion for the cuisine, and patiently--even enthusiastically--explaining any and everything on the menu to anyone who asks. And while the space is small, the menu is relatively extensive; offering an impressive variety of sandwiches and main plates along with a special or two. They also have a full assortment of fresh-made Cuban baked goods and desserts.

While a lot looked really good--especially the arroz con pollo special that seemed to be on every table that afternoon-- I was here to complete a mission and have myself a much-anticpated (and needed) Cuban sandwich.


Our food was out shortly and the short of it was that my Cuban was wonderful. The bread, which is baked in house was perfectly crisp, yet soft and dense on the inside. Layered between them was thick-sliced ham and a thin grilled pork loin. Melted Swiss, pickles and yellow mustard--all smashed together by the grill press--rounded off this rather impressive Frijoles Cuban.

As much as I loved my sandwich, my wife's pulled pork was even better. Shredded, slow-roasted pork between the same great bread. It was a pefect example of how the most simple foods--when done right-- are often the best.

Next up were empanadas and coffee. I love a strong shot of espresso (I even don't mind chewing on coffee sludge) but I am not one to ever put sugar in my coffee (or milk for that matter). Being full aware of this inevitability when I ordered my cafe at a Cuban restaurant, I was prepared to begrudingly sip my little cup--because I really needed a cup of coffee. Nothing magical happened. I didn't suddenly love sweet coffee. But I could see how if you like your coffee sweet this would probably stand out as a very good cup of coffee. I kinda liked it.

The empanada desserts, however, were another story. I love my dessert and especially anything in the pastry family. These sugary, but not-too-sweet, flaky pastries full of guava and cheese were absolutely delightful.

I would like to mention that my boys did not cry once while inside Frijoles--mostly thanks to the large TV (they don't really get to watch TV at home) they sat under showing a baseball game (this place really is Cuban)--but also thanks to the excellent moros-- black beans and rice-- and papas fritas that had them stuffing their chubby little cheeks the entire time. It turned out that father did know best for once in their 16-month existence. If I can keep that up until they leave my house that means I might be right about something 15 or 16 times over the next 20 years. I'd call that a success, but then again, I like to aim high.

The Negrin family has brought Denver exactly what it needs by dishing out Cuban comfort food--in a comfortable atmosphere-- with tremendous respect for the cuisine and care for its preparation. With daily specials like paella, picadillo, arroz con pollo, ropa vieja-- and standbys like lechón and the classic Cuban; Frijoles Colorado has quite literally blown the Cuban doors right off of Denver's Cuban dining scene. Or better, it has allowed us to begin to proudly say that there is a Cuban food scene worth talking about in our town.

El Boricua at the Puerto Rican Festival in Stapleton

Last weekend, for all things Puerto Rican in Denver, one had to travel to of all places, Stapleton. I can't say for sure, but I somehow doubt that Denver's newest neighborhood has an overwhelmingly high census of puertorriqueños. And just for that reason, it was good to see the streets around Stapleton's Central Park full of boricuas and people of all different backgrounds coming together to celebrate the lovely Isla del Encanto.

Officially called A Taste of Puerto Rico Festival, this Puerto Rican-centric party is held on the second weekend of June to coincide with National Puerto Rican Day. It was all centered around a stage with live salsa music and dancing, but also included a spattering of vendors, musicians and other entertainment including this circle of congas:

It put me in such a boricua state of mind that I was tempted to buy something with the Puerto Rican flag on it, but I just couldn't decide between the mesh or plain cotton sleeveless t-shirt. In addition to being able to buy the Puerto Rican flag emblazoned on everything from tank tops to key chains to bikinis, there was a tent with a barber who would, for a nominal fee, shave it into your head. Enticing as all of that was, I was, as you may have expected, on the lookout for some comida puertorriqueña.

There are no Puerto Rican restaurants in Denver as far as I know, which is a shame. Puerto Rican food is for the most part delicious, simple and I imagine it would appeal to many more than just homesick puertorriqueños. While rice and beans, or arroz con habichuelas, as it is called on the island, is a ubiquitous staple, there is a lot more to the cuisine. I am no expert, but from what I know, there is a lot of use a lot of plantains and other tropical fruits, as well as unique variants of dishes found in other Latin American countries -- and then of course there is the famous lechón.

As a half-Filipino, where roast pig-on-a-spit is also called lechón, any cuisine that features a crisp-skinned suckling pig slow cooked over fire on a spit is a cuisine I am going to like. I didn't expect to find a lechón asado roasting at the festival that day, so I wasn't disappointed when I got there and didn't see one. But what was surprising was that upon arriving to the self-proclaimed "Taste of Puerto Rico" festival, was that I couldn't immediayely see a Puerto Rican food stall. There was one easily spied stall called "Spicy Mexican Food", and another boldly advertising "Sno Cones and Lemonade", but it was a nameless tent tucked behind a Puerto Rican souvenir stall (everything, for that matter, was tucked behind a Puerto Rican souvenir stall) that held the festival's only comida puertorriqueña.

While there was no sign advertising the business (a good sign), there were a few small signs laying out the day's menu options, all with some variation on rice, beans, pork and plantain. There were also empanadillas, which is Puerto Rican for empanada--not to be confused with the breaded steak you will get when ordering an empanada while there.

We did order a few empanadillas, which were filled with beef, deep fried and absolutely fantastic. I imagine most people can imagine how good crisp-fried dough filled with juicy ground beef tastes, so here, in lieu of a description, is a picture:

Besides the empanadillas, there were really only two dishes not "X'd" off the menu board, so we got those. Both dishes featured pernil, which if there is no lechón, is in all likelihood the next best thing. Pernil is slow-cooked pork seasoned with a Puerto Rican adobo, which as far as I can tell has things like garlic, vinegar, oregano and maybe something citrus-y. This pernil was succulent and flavorful, with a deep flavor that comes from careful preparation and slow, slow cooking.

Dish 1

Both dishes had tostones, which are smashed and fried, or fried and smashed, plantains. Actually I think the proper order is fry, smash and then fry again. Either way when there are plantains involved with frying, the results are generally good, and these tostones were no exception.

Dish 2

And of course there were the rice and beans. On one plate was the aforementioned arroz con habichuelas (dish 2), and the other plate featured pigeon peas, or gandules. I am a great aficionado of simple foods like rice and beans, and I appreciate when they are not just thrown on the side of plate as an afterthought. Therefore I thoroughly enjoyed my Puerto Rican beans and rice from this nameless stall, which obviously took pride in their execution.

We did end up going back over and asking what the place was called, and after some discussion amongst the vendors, we were told "El Boricua", with a giggle. So it is. Be on the lookout for El Boricua at Denver street festivals this summer for a rare slice of Puerto Rico in Denver that won't disappoint. If you don't find it this year, then make sure to block your calander for next year's Puerto Rican Festival in Stapleton's Central Park.