Best Last Supper 2005 | Luca d'Italia | Best of Denver® | Best Restaurants, Bars, Clubs, Music and Stores in Denver | Westword
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Molly Martin
There's this game cooks play when they get together. It doesn't have a name or any rules, but the crux of it is this: You're dying -- fatal disease, on death row, whatever. There's time for one last meal, anything under the sun. What's it going to be? No one wants to waste his last night on a tasting menu, wrapped up in a jacket and tie in some murmuring tomb of a fine-dining restaurant. You want something fun, something memorable, something incredible and comforting at the same time. And for us, that's Luca d'Italia, Frank Bonanno's amazing Italian dream restaurant where everything is good and nothing is forgettable. Start with an insalata of house-cured meats, a little fresh mozz, some prosciutto, then move on to the pastas -- the crab gnocchi, in particular -- and meats, like the kitchen's extraordinary "rabbit three ways." A meal at Luca would send anyone to the great hereafter with a smile on his face and the smell of truffles on his breath.

There's this game cooks play when they get together. It doesn't have a name or any rules, but the crux of it is this: You're dying -- fatal disease, on death row, whatever. There's time for one last meal, anything under the sun. What's it going to be? No one wants to waste his last night on a tasting menu, wrapped up in a jacket and tie in some murmuring tomb of a fine-dining restaurant. You want something fun, something memorable, something incredible and comforting at the same time. And for us, that's Luca d'Italia, Frank Bonanno's amazing Italian dream restaurant where everything is good and nothing is forgettable. Start with an insalata of house-cured meats, a little fresh mozz, some prosciutto, then move on to the pastas -- the crab gnocchi, in particular -- and meats, like the kitchen's extraordinary "rabbit three ways." A meal at Luca would send anyone to the great hereafter with a smile on his face and the smell of truffles on his breath.


Nate Day
Cafe Jordano doesn't take reservations, because if it did, there'd never be an open table for the neighbors, the folks who arrive a half-hour before the start of dinner and count heads to make sure they'll get a seat at that all-important first turn of the dining room. Over the years, we've learned the drill at Cafe Jordano and know that very nearly everything this strip-mall trattoria does -- from the smallest touch of service to the most labor-intensive entree -- is wonderful and well-considered. Perhaps the most surprising thing about the place is how it treats families. It doesn't matter if you walk through the door at the head of a party of twelve just in from a family reunion or leading a herd of squalling, snot-nosed rugrats: There's no customer, or group of customers, that the Jordano staff isn't happy to see.

Cafe Jordano doesn't take reservations, because if it did, there'd never be an open

table for the neighbors, the folks who arrive a half-hour before the start of dinner and count heads to make sure they'll get a seat at that all-important first turn of the dining room. Over the years, we've learned the drill at Cafe Jordano and know that very nearly everything this strip-mall trattoria does -- from the smallest touch of service to the most labor-intensive entree -- is wonderful and well-considered. Perhaps the most surprising thing about the place is how it treats families. It doesn't matter if you walk through the door at the head of a party of twelve just in from a family reunion or leading a herd of squalling, snot-nosed rugrats: There's no customer, or group of customers, that the Jordano staff isn't happy to see.

You may be someone's parents now, but you're still entitled to grown-up good food -- and the space to enjoy it. Hillcrest Grill is just the place for you. This neighborhood eatery not only has a decent kids' menu, but a fabulous children's play area -- a virtual kid corral -- where ankle-biters can go when they're done gnawing on their chicken strips. And while they're playing, you can get down to the serious work of eating the sort of adult entrees you deserve, everything from pastas and salads to steak and salmon -- with big, stiff drinks.

You may be someone's parents now, but you're still entitled to grown-up good food -- and the space to enjoy it. Hillcrest Grill is just the place for you. This neighborhood eatery not only has a decent kids' menu, but a fabulous children's play area -- a virtual kid corral -- where ankle-biters can go when they're done gnawing on their chicken strips. And while they're playing, you can get down to the serious work of eating the sort of adult entrees you deserve, everything from pastas and salads to steak and salmon -- with big, stiff drinks.

The Breakfast King is everything that a rust-belt boy, a trucker's son, an aficionado of greasy spoons or anyone with a little blue in his collar could hope for in a diner. First and foremost, it's open 24/7. Second, the waitresses know how to treat a regular and how to make those who aren't regulars feel like one anyway. Third, the place is ugly in exactly the way you want it to be when sinking into a booth on a Friday at midnight or early on a Sunday morning. With its orange-on-orange color scheme, straight-'70s wood paneling and white-polyester Coffee Angel waitress uniforms, the King is a working-class Neverland for diner junkies -- where time has been stopped for the last thirty years, and no one who doesn't want to grow up ever has to.

The Breakfast King is everything that a rust-belt boy, a trucker's son, an aficionado of greasy spoons or anyone with a little blue in his collar could hope for in a diner. First and foremost, it's open 24/7. Second, the waitresses know how to treat a regular and how to make those who aren't regulars feel like one anyway. Third, the place is ugly in exactly the way you want it to be when sinking into a booth on a Friday at midnight or early on a Sunday morning. With its orange-on-orange color scheme, straight-'70s wood paneling and white-polyester Coffee Angel waitress uniforms, the King is a working-class Neverland for diner junkies -- where time has been stopped for the last thirty years, and no one who doesn't want to grow up ever has to.


Danielle Lirette
Simplicity counts, and Mezcal's kitchen re-creates the simplest of Mexican street fare with its tacos. Owner Jesse Morreale and Sean Yontz (who consults in the kitchen) don't overreach, don't try to make a taco anything more than what it should be: an edible envelope stuffed with meat and greens. But the components -- soft corn tortillas, grilled meats, fresh salsas and shredded cabbage -- are top-quality, and the atmosphere adds all the extra flavor you could want. Sometimes the best things are the most basic -- and that rule was never truer than at Mezcal.

Simplicity counts, and Mezcal's kitchen re-creates the simplest of Mexican street fare with its tacos. Owner Jesse Morreale and Sean Yontz (who consults in the kitchen) don't overreach, don't try to make a taco anything more than what it should be: an edible envelope stuffed with meat and greens. But the components -- soft corn tortillas, grilled meats, fresh salsas and shredded cabbage -- are top-quality, and the atmosphere adds all the extra flavor you could want. Sometimes the best things are the most basic -- and that rule was never truer than at Mezcal.


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