I don't know where to begin. Should I start with the girl in the full-length (faux) fur over her sundress in the dining room — the one I'd pegged as a Russian mafia princess until I heard her speaking flawless English — or the beautiful people on the patio discussing their recent returns from San Francisco, Manhattan and London, driven home to Denver by the failing economy and sucking down bottomless mimosas to soothe their jangled nerves? Should I start with the menu that I first thought was some kind... More >>>