What It’s Like to Eat at Every Restaurant on Aurora’s Havana Street

Once a week over the past year, I’ve made the drive from the south end of Havana Street in Aurora north towards Sixth Avenue to visit a different restaurant along what has been called the most diverse street in Colorado for Westword’s Eat Up Havana series.

On my last trip up this stretch to visit the final stop in this culinary adventure, shortly after Hamden Avenue turns sharply north to become Havana Street, I passed the same Olive Garden near the intersection of Havana and Iliff as I have every week. Its parking lot full as always, people entering and exiting with the same regularity.

I used to shake my head at them with disappointment and judgment as I drove by on the way to my next adventure. But today, I can only feel sorry for them. For they do not know what they are missing.

Night Market selfie — Left to right: Havana Business Improvement District executive director Chance Horiuchi and Seoul Hospitality Group CEO JW Lee with Antony Bruno and his wife, Lisa.

Chance Horiuchi

Over the course of this assignment, I’ve had the opportunity to visit nearly fifty restaurants serving the cuisines of over a dozen different countries, all packed into a four-mile stretch of busy road, neglected parking lots, and potholes.

Each one now holds a different memory, a new discovery, a lesson learned. In some cases, of course, the highlight was the food. In others, it was the people. And many times, it was the hard-to-define revelation you get when a little corner of your worldview gets blown away by exposure to an entirely different way of thinking.

Seoul Korean BBQ — Needless to say, Korean BBQ is best enjoyed with a group!

Antony Bruno

The Food

Oh, the food. Most of it was good. Some of it was even great. Very rarely was it bad. The highlights come more in the form of specific dishes and bites than with the restaurants as a whole, because each spot has something special to offer.

The spicy pork shoulder made from ground spices shipped from the owner’s mother in Korea at Shin Myung Gwan Korean BBQ. The crisp, tender strips of marinated al pastor pork at Taqueria Corona. The perfectly charred ground beef kababs and silky hummus at Yemen Grill. The black garlic tonkotsu ramen at Katsu Ramen, which continues to haunt my dreams. The spicy cold chicken at Chef Liu’s Kitchen’s triumphant return.

a plate of ethiopian food — The vegetarian combo at Nile Ethiopian is a perfect start to your meal, pictured here with the lamb derek tips.

Antony Bruno

That’s just a sampling. I consider myself a seasoned, adventurous, and well-traveled eater, but I still found many new discoveries along the way. The loroco flower featured at Pupusas La Salvadoreña. The spiced crunchiness of the fried lamb dish called tibs at Nile Ethiopian, contrasted by the soft unctuousness of the raw kifta. The protein-on-protien-on-protien foundation of Columbian food at +57 Bar & Restaurante and La Sazon de Irene. The theatrics of Asian desserts at Snowl and Milkroll. The quiet restraint of hot pot strategy. Pig feet.

Discoveries like these require taking chances, sometimes ordering from menus written entirely in foreign languages with no idea what might result. Taking bites of dishes without any understanding of the ingredients they contain or the flavors to expect. Even entirely new ways of eating — like hot pots and flat top grills built into the table, or eating with your hands using spongy bread — where the question, “what is this,” is quickly replaced by, “how do I eat it?”

man holding bag of flatbread — Watan’s owner Abdulaziz Azimi holds a bag of his Uzbek non bread.

Antony Bruno

The People

Each of these little culinary moments has to be placed in the context of the people who served them and the places where they were enjoyed. If I sat you down and provided a tasting menu of my three favorite dishes outside of their respective establishments, I doubt you’d have the same enjoyment as being in the space, with the people.

In many cases, I’ve been fortunate to meet and learn the stories of the proprietors, nearly always either an immigrant or first-generation owner, sharing their culture and cuisine for both countrymen and visitors alike.

El Tequileño hosts a 6-piece mariachi band every Friday.

Antony Bruno

The revelation that the boy in the refugee poster hanging on the wall at Watan Restaurant & Bakery was, in fact, the owner I’d been speaking to. The courage of the owners at Chopsticks A GoGo, staying open late because that’s when the competition is asleep. The formerly homeless owner of Golf Ethiopian, serving customers with a wry smile and dry humor. The hustle of born entrepreneurs like the owner of El Tequileno, who came to this country with nothing and built an empire.

More than once, I’ve walked into restaurants where every other person inside stopped and stared, wondering if I was lost, but I was met every time with a kind smile and welcoming assistance.

The tofu lab at Tofu Story, where the magic happens five to six nights a week.

Antony Bruno

The Moments

Somewhere between the food and the people is a collection of moments that occur when you put yourself into new situations. Snapshots of cultural realities that bubble up when you pay attention to new surroundings. After all, many of the restaurants here are not just businesses serving food. They are community hubs where expats from across the globe gather to share a small connection to home, or where their first-generation offspring can experience a fleeting glimpse of their heritage.

Food, in this context, becomes something more than just a meal. It’s a communion. As an outsider, I’m humbled to have had the opportunity to serve witness.

Kids hanging out late at Thank Sool Pocha, tilting back beers and spinning little wooden skewers of beef over a grill built into the table, reminiscent of Korean night market culture. A man rolling out his prayer rug in the corner of Maandeeq Restaurant & Cafe. The roasting coffee beans of a buna ceremony at Nile Ethiopian setting off the fire alarm every time they’re brought out. The server’s nonchalant reaction to a three-foot grease fire flare-up at Seoul Korean BBQ & Hot Pot. Learning how tofu is made at Tofu Story.

The Lesson

Before I started the Eat Up Havana series, I played it pretty safe with my restaurant choices. Like most people, I’d look for recommendations from influencers, read reviews from other writers like me, and if I peeked into a place that was empty, I’d skip it entirely.

We all do this because we don’t want to be disappointed. We don’t want to waste our money or our time.

But I realize now that doing this is playing it just as safe as those people at Olive Garden. It’s just another cocoon of familiarity, slowly eroding our sense of adventure and shrinking our sphere of attention to what the algorithm serves up. It’s being told where to go or seeking validation of what we already think. It’s flattening culture.

Now, at the end of this experience, I’ve gained a new appreciation for not only taking the risk in visiting the outlier restaurants unseen or overlooked by the herd, but in fact seeking them out. Using that little voice of doubt in my head as not a warning, but an encouragement to create an opportunity to be pleasantly surprised.

If there’s any takeaway to be had from the Eat Up Havana experience, it’s not a list of recommended restaurants or dishes. It’s a call to action to take the journey.

All that’s required is the courage to open an unfamiliar door and walk into an unfamiliar room serving unfamiliar food, in some cases using an unfamiliar language in a space filled with people who may not look like you.

Yes, you will be disappointed at times. Perhaps embarrassed. Definitely a little nervous. But that’s the price of making your own discoveries, carving out your own path, and taking back control of your own discoveries.

Because if there’s one thing I’ve learned after these weekly excursions down Havana Street, it’s that any door has the potential to lead to a transcendent experience that will stick with you forever. All you have to do is have the will to open it.

If not, well…there’s always Olive Garden.

a bowl of ice cream — Ice cream, pretzels, and fish-shaped waffles in a cup at Snowl.

Antony Bruno

Check out all the Eat Up Havana stops:

I Ate at Every Restaurant on Aurora’s Havana Street: Here’s What I Learned

The Food

Editor's Picks

The People

The Moments

The Lesson

GET MORE COVERAGE LIKE THIS

Thanks for Joining!

THANK YOU!