Best By-the-Glass Wine List 2011 | Lou's Food Bar | Best of Denver® | Best Restaurants, Bars, Clubs, Music and Stores in Denver | Westword
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If you're certain to save more than a few bucks off your total check by ordering the bottle, then why would you ever choose to order wine by the glass? A few possible reasons: a) You're afflicted with a rare, intense case of Wine Attention Deficit Disorder; b) You're dining alone, and therefore only capable of consuming three glasses of wine in a single sitting (God forbid you waste the fourth); or c) You're at a restaurant with so many tempting by-the-glass selections that you simply can't resist snatching sips from all over the list. If you chose C, there's a good chance you've been drinking (and eating) at Lou's Food Bar, which is exactly where you should go when you're searching for that elusive perfect glass of vino. Wine director Lynn Whittum did more than just pick good juice that goes with the restaurant's eclectic fare; she made sure the pricing was right, too: The average glass runs just $9. Pinkies up!

There's more to making cappuccino than pulling a shot, steaming a little milk and adding a great big dollop of foam — and the baristas at the Cup recognize that. They start by pulling a perfect shot of espresso topped with caramel-colored crema — and then the real work begins. They know the secret for creating perfect foam at a perfect temperature, they understand why you can't make a cappuccino from skim milk (without milk fat, the foam just falls away), and they're aware of the importance of latte art, which is not only part of the tradition but displays the integrity of the craft. They effortlessly pour perfect cappuccinos, each adorned with a heart, rosette or something more artistic, served on saucers with a spoon and a chocolate-covered espresso bean.

Making cassoulet, the bean-and-meat stew that's chock-full of sausage and duck confit, is a days-long undertaking, and that's why it only graces the menu at Masterpiece Delicatessen as a special. Still, the sandwich shop makes a near-perfect version of the stuff: toothsome white beans bathed in a thick, buttery broth, topped with a couple of crisp strips of bacon and overlaid with a crunchy, fat-roasted duck leg, tender meat falling off the bone. The kitchen finishes the dish with a handful of crisp greens to balance the heavy meat binge. It's all so good that we want to eat bowl after bowl of the stuff until we've cleaned out the stockpot. Please, sir, may we have some more?

Down south, they know how to tame this ugly-ass bottom-feeder. They fillet it, pan-fry it with light seasoning and serve it up with hush puppies, okra and other comfort foods. Shead's keeps the Southern tradition alive in its clean, well-lighted strip-mall location; save some room for a juicy peach cobbler as a chaser. The fried tilapia isn't half bad, either.

Best Central/South American Restaurant

Cafe Brazil

Summer Powell

When the original owner lost Cafe Brazil in the early '90s, Tony and Marla Zarlenga took it over and saved the name because Brazil has a great culture, a great spirit and a great reputation — and they wanted to channel that. But instead of a strictly Brazilian restaurant, they created a novolatino place that offers a contemporary interpretation of the cuisine of South America with influences from the Mediterranean. It's a unique world of the couple's own creation that influences everything from the menu to the artwork (which Marla paints when she's not working in the kitchen). There are a few bona fide Brazilian dishes, like the xim xim and the feijoada, but many of the menu offerings are Colombian with a Brazilian touch. The Peixe de Angola, for example, with Malagueta chiles tossed into the creamy fish stew made with sweet and spicy coconut milk and lime; the crispy, sweet fried bananas gracing many plates; the cazuela Colombiana, a savory stew of tomato and chicken breast and prawns; the dulce de leche ice cream, creamy caramel gelato topped with espresso. Whatever the origin of these dishes, each provides a beautiful window into a rich Latin American world.

Cassandra Kotnik

Denver chefs are going to have to do more — much more — than toss a few slices of prosciutto on a platter with a fistful of olives if they're going to go nose-to-tail with Sergio Romero, the executive chef of Argyll. Romero's charcuterie program is done 100 percent in-house and features an all-star lineup of all the things we hold sacred: chicken-liver pâté, rabbit rillettes, foie gras mousse, duck prosciutto, gin-cured salmon gravlox, even pickled cow's tongue. He serves it all on a weighty slab alongside housemade condiments and spreads, including a potent beer mustard specked with caraway seeds, a Colorado purple-onion jam and an impeccable Niçoise olive tapenade.

Scott Lentz

Many restaurants offer cheese courses, but none as tantalizing as the board at Osteria Marco, where every cheese on the plate is crafted in-house. There's milky, pure, hand-stretched mozzarella. Soft, slightly chunky ricotta, kissed with sweetness and a tinge of clover. Smooth, slightly sharp goat's-milk ricotta. And, of course, an orb of sinfully rich burrata, the firm, mozzarella-like edge encasing a luscious, creamy center. The kitchen builds plates of one or more selections, supplementing generous helpings with relishes, honeys and delicate housemade crackers. We can't start — or end — a meal at this Frank Bonanno restaurant without sampling at least one variety.

The Squeaky Bean may very well be Denver's most wickedly irreverent restaurant, which is just one of the reasons it's such an alluring escape when you need a mood-lifter that's legal. Owner and head bean-counter Johnny Ballen has a wonderfully warped mind that's resulted in the erection of a Farrah Fawcett shrine, a bingo billboard and the flight of helium-filled balloons through the room, ensuring that no one walks out in a cloud of bitterness. But while all of those things add to the Bean's magnetism, it's executive chef Max MacKissock's sensational cooking that really seals the deal. A healthy dose of playfulness — and provocation — prevails in everything he touches, from his modernized TV dinners and duo of grilled quail squatting on a Coors Light can to his Italian wedding soup, prepared so brilliantly that you want to weep. And then there's the profoundly innovative — and completely refashioned — "green chile" lofted with foie gras and downplayed with Fritos. MacKissock isn't afraid to drop culinary bombshells, and his risk-taking tendencies thus far have resulted in enthusiastic reviews from foodniks near and far. Few chefs understand exactly what it takes to make a palate soar like MacKissock does, and for everything he does, and everything he will do, we give thanks.

We like to live dangerously by hopping on a stool and taking in the controlled anarchy of an exhibition kitchen, specifically one that's as up-close and personal as the copper-topped chef's counter — the only thing separating the cooks from the customers — at Deluxe. It's pockmarked, scratched and a tight squeeze, with only a half-dozen seats, but it's also the best seat in the house for bantering with the crew, headlined by executive chef Dylan Moore, whose appreciation for peepers is apparent. A sign above the chef's counter reads "EAT" — and if you sit in Moore's domain, you'll eat beautifully, with the added benefit of observing a classy cast having as much fun as you are.

Considering the absurdly high number of chili cookoffs that take place in Denver, it doesn't make sense that it's next to impossible to find a butt-kicking bowl of the stuff at a restaurant. What's even more wacky is that the one chili that does bowl us over comes from the kitchen of Elway's Cherry Creek, a white-tablecloth steer palace that slings a $48 porterhouse, Japanese sea bass for $39, and a half-dozen oysters for just under twenty bucks. And yet for less than a tenner, you can swell your belly with chef Tyler Wiard's sensational chili, a cast-iron crock brimming with a brick-red stew thumped with oregano, garlic and cumin and shocked with the heat of numerous chile powders, whose blaze slowly sneaks up on you like a silent thief. It comes with all the requisite sidekicks — ribbons of cheddar, red onions and sour cream — but this is a chili that stands righteous without any embellishment.

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