Food & Drink

Sushi Sasa is located as close as you get in Denver to a beach: Confluence Park, at the intersection of Cherry Creek and the South Platte. And that’s appropriate, because even in this landlocked city, eight-year-old Sushi Sasa is swimming in incredible sushi. Even the simplest tekka maki is a work of art, lavished with the kind of attention that other places don’t even give to expensive rolls; the emphasis is on maximizing the impact of the fish itself — the tiny moves that could elevate a simple piece of skipjack, shrimp or bonito into something you might remember for the rest of your life. But don’t dive so far into sushi that you forget to occasionally order one of chef-owner Wayne Conwell’s imaginative omakase menus, which offer the best in modern and traditional Japanese cuisine.

Revered for its innovative and stunningly composed raw fish and rolls served (if you ask) with freshly grated wasabi, Land of Sushi — whose unfortunate name belies everything that lifts this restaurant to sea stardom — is also a spectacular restaurant for traditional Japanese-intensive cuisine. Besides sushi, the kitchen turns out everything from udon and soba noodle dishes to Japanese hot pots, grilled fish plated with sculptured Asian vegetables and draped with sauces that sing like songbirds, and even lamb carpaccio, lightly seared in hot sesame oil and drizzled with a sauce of citrusy yuzu and soy. At a Japanese restaurant, you expect the delicate slivers of raw fish to be treated with care, but Land of Sushi extends that same respect to everything else on the plate.

There’s now a trio of Jax Fish Houses — and a fourth opening soon in Glendale — but the newly remodeled LoDo location is the front-runner stunner. The nautically funky interior showcases whale-tail cutouts suspended from the ceiling, white subway tile, a gorgeous marble-finished bar that stretches from one end to the other, and an interactive raw bar, from which fresh oysters, clams, shrimp, mussels and crab legs are dispensed by a crew of seaworthy captains who can shuck, peel, scrub and debeard at high sailboat speeds. And the kitchen still sails just as smoothly as before, turning out unassailable dishes like sea scallops paired with fried pig’s ears; miso-grilled salmon bolstered by smoked soba noodles; and Dungeness crab clusters bobbing in piquant panang curry.

Denverites take their breakfast burritos as seriously as they do their bicycle laps around Washington Park, and given the hundreds of burrito trucks, burrito carts and burrito shacks sprinkled throughout the city, it’s not easy to choose just one as that marvelous eye-opener. But morning, noon and night, Jalapeños delivers in spades — and spice. Soft-scrambled eggs, melted cheddar, fried cubes of potatoes — enough to alert you to the fact that they’re there, but not so many that they overtake everything else — and a fevered, fierce and fiery green chile studded with habanero chiles are tucked into a griddled flour tortilla that sells for a mere $1.99. Bacon, ham, chorizo and even Soyrizo — the vegetarian equivalent of swine — can be added for a small price, and it’s available Jalapeños style, too, with grilled onions, tomatoes and jalapeños. No matter which one you order, it’s a wrap.

Steakhouses are all about unabashed high-roller gluttony, and when you’re paying a head and a hoof for their beef, the cow better damn well be worth the price of its hide. Luckily, the steaks at swanky Shanahan’s, while ludicrously expensive, make the cut. Mineraly, chewy, dribbling with crimson droplets of blood and beautifully crusted, these are the steaks of cow-craving hedonists, who plunge their knives into the prime-aged flesh, shimmering on stark white plates, and then happily pull out the credit card. The side dishes — the usual suspects, including creamed corn, creamed spinach and potatoes au gratin — are excellent too, although as with everything else here, you’ll pay through the barn for the indulgence. But as we all know, luxury has its price.

Here’s the primary problem with ultra-cheap steaks: They’re annoyingly thin — too thin to prepare mid-rare — and for those of us who prefer a mooing cow to a muffled cow, that just doesn’t cut it. But you don’t have to pay upwards of $30 for a great piece of meat. For a bargain-priced steak that’s thick, beastly and full of beefy flavor, head to the appropriately named Bull & Bush, which serves a twelve-ounce baseball center-cut sirloin that’s liberally rubbed with salt and pepper and then grilled to the exact temperature requested. Included in the $17 price tag is soup or salad and a choice of mashed potatoes, wild rice or a loaded baked potato. This is a steak you can bank on.

With plates of aquavit-cured salmon, poached shrimp on brioche, and the deliciously caramelized Norwegian cheese known as ekte gjetost, Trillium is the place to get your Scandinavian groove on. But unless you visit with a fish-shy friend, you might miss the real star of Ryan Leinonen’s stylish restaurant: the “Never, ever” New York strip. Named because yucky stuff like antibiotics and hormones never, ever touch the meat, the steak is thick, tender and beefy. And with pickled mushrooms, arugula, leeks, blue-cheese cream and apple-horseradish potato salad accenting the plate, you’ll never, ever miss a steakhouse’s tired creamed spinach and spuds.

In some cities, naming a restaurant the best vegetarian eatery is faint praise, but in Denver — which is blessed with vegetarian and vegan options at almost every turn, plus a handful of all-herbivore restaurants — it’s an honor. And WaterCourse Foods is deserving of that honor once again, partially because of its consistently delicious regular menu and partially because of the imaginative offerings that chef Rachel Kesley whips up throughout the year in seasonal multi-course blowouts paired with wine. The interior is accommodating and welcoming for both couples on anniversary dates and families out for a bite to eat; there’s a coffee bar with decadent baked goods (not to mention a decent tea selection); and the wine and beer selections are lovingly chosen. WaterCourse is a venue that pays attention to all aspects of dining, above and beyond what’s sent out of the kitchen on a plate — and plant-based eaters of all stripes can appreciate that.

Biker Jim’s seems like the last place you should be able to get a vegan meal — let alone a damn good vegan meal. The spot is best known for its array of sausages crafted with exotic meat, ranging from rattlesnake to reindeer. Don’t let its reputation fool you, though, because Biker Jim’s serves a spicy vegan dog, a plant-based dog doppelgänger with a perfect balance of herbs and spices and a rich, meaty texture. The fixings bar has plenty of vegan options, too, and there are several dairy-free sides at Biker Jim’s that you can order to supplement your dog.

The menu at Tarasco’s has a dizzying number of award-worthy dishes; in the past, it’s won accolades for its mole and posole. This year, though, what caught our attention was a small item under soups: a traditional Michoacán bean soup called sopa Tarasca that has fresh tortilla strips stirred in and (if you like) queso fresca and crema adorning the top for extra flavor. Without the cheese and crema, it’s a fully vegan dish — and, frankly, you don’t need those toppings. Order the soup as a side to accompany the grilled cactus, or even one of the meat-laden dishes on the menu (and there are plenty of those). But if you want to make a meal of it, a single bowl of this should fill you up nicely — and we guarantee you’ll crave it year-round, soup season or not.

Let’s face it: There isn’t much for non-meat-eaters on the menu at Sam’s No. 3. Not at the oldest one in Aurora, not at the downtown one, which opened a decade ago right where the first Sam’s stood in the ’20s, and not at the new spot in Glendale. And perhaps that’s as it should be, considering that no matter what its location, Sam’s has been catering to meat-lovers for close to a century, and certainly long before “vegetarian” or “vegan” were common words in the restaurant lexicon. But Sam’s does appreciate herbivores, and proves it with a thick, spicy veggie green chile — a green so tasty that a bowl makes a satisfying meal. But it also works well in a supporting role: smothering huevos rancheros or topping a breakfast burrito. However you enjoy it — and you will — Sam’s shows that you don’t need pork in the mix to make a great green chile.

Boone’s Tavern — a member of the Pour Kids bar group — claims that its green chile is “famous,” which may be a stretch, but, whoa, is it destined to become that way! The joint’s verde, which is actually green — not red, not orange, not neon, but green — is prepared mild, medium or hot, and the latter is purgatory on steroids, a medium-thick, invigorating blast of blistering jalapeños, cumin and garlic that’s peppered and salted and swamped with tender cubes of pork. And Boone’s isn’t even a Mexican joint: It’s an all-over-the-map catch-all of this, that and everything else that just happens to devote a portion of its menu to Mexican staples, including a Pueblo slopper, which is the optimal canvas for that tasty green chile.

If you’re in search of the city’s most transcendent taqueria — the one that makes you raise your fist to the heavens, having just discovered enlightenment on a plate — then the entrance to La Calle Taqueria y Carnitas is our pearly gate. Taquerias are an omnipresent fixture on Denver’s food landscape, and a religious experience for many of us. Especially this one, where the tacos — more than twenty versions are offered — come in both common and unexpected forms. You can wrap your jaws around tacos al pastor pelted with charred pineapple; steamed tacos stuffed with tongue; tacos de cazuela slapped with slow-roasted pork; and fried tacos filled with cheek meat and thrust in a cazo pan. A smashing salsa bar is the ultimate benediction.

The chicken mole, soft corn tacos filled with marinated meats, and a lamb shank the size of a small bulldozer are just a few of our favorite eats at El Trompito Taqueria. But before digging in, after we snatch our food off the counter, we make a beeline for the salsa bar, a freestanding contraption in the middle of the bright dining room. The contents are a romp through the mild and crazy-wild, although most of the salsas inspire a knee-jerking or tear-jerking reaction, thanks to the preponderance of chiles. But beneath the heat is also depths of flavor, and there are plenty of other items to counteract the flame: pickled carrots and onions, radishes, lime wedges and cilantro among them. The salsas are also available for purchase, and you’ll want a vat of each one.

Zócalo, which got its start just off Broadway in Capitol Hill, added a sibling on South Broadway last year — which means there are now two places where you can get Denver’s best free chips and salsa. The basket of fresh, salty chips arrives at your table a second after you sit down — accompanied by an incredible salsa that tastes almost meaty, thanks to the roasted tomatoes and chiles that form its base. It’s thick, deeply flavored and delicious. You could make a meal of the chips and salsa, but don’t make that mistake: There are many other things to try at Zócalo, including great grilled meats and the most decadent chile-cheese fries imaginable — topped with jalapeño slices and bacon.

There are rules when it comes to nachos: The chips (corn, of course) need to be sturdy; otherwise, they’ll become soggy under the weight of the real reason you ordered nachos in the first place: all that stuff that comes heaped on top. These chips should be baked so that the outer edges emerge golden, and never piled on top of one another. And most important, nachos shouldn’t be fancy or tampered with. Save your pork belly, your foraged wild mushrooms, your ahi tuna and whatever other foodstuffs you find tempting for something else — never nachos. There are few places that manage to follow all these rules, but the Pioneer, a watering hole and Mexican joint, does nachos right. The chips — salty, thick and stiff — are arranged in a single layer (this kitchen realizes that an order of nachos isn’t meant to emulate Everest), each one smeared with black beans and topped with either grilled chicken or beef, melted asadero cheese (a welcome change from cheddar), scallions, fresh jalapeños, pico de gallo and zigzags of Mexican crema. Every single chip receives the royal treatment, and each bite is better than the last.

Little Anita’s is an institution in New Mexico, where its locations spread across the state and its history stretches back forty years. In the Land of Enchantment, foodies in the know generally consider it a destination of last resort; they respect its longevity, yet think of it as a place to stop if you want to kill an afternoon making fun of tourists. But in Denver, where authentic New Mexican fare is hard to find, Little Anita’s is a must-stop for sloppy breakfast burritos slathered in either green or red chile. This is the best red chile you’ll find north of Raton Pass: a serious, honey-sweetened red that’s fiery enough to convince Denver’s green-chile addicts to change their allegiance.

The Rackhouse Pub welcomes you with stews, casseroles and sauces served in metal measuring cups. This playful touch draws you right into the spirit of the kitchen, as if you were standing next to the cook while he offers you samples from a simmering pot of chili con carne. The spicy aroma of the whiskey chili grips you with cumin and red pepper pods, pulling you closer to the two-cup serving vessel surrounded by its diminutive partners brimming with sour cream, chives and shredded cheddar. This is thick, chunky Texas campfire chili, with Stranahan’s whiskey adding sweet and smoky notes to the coarse-ground beef and tender beans, all swathed in a piquant, brick-red sauce that sticks to the sides of the cup. Luckily, there’s a honey-glazed corn muffin to dredge up the last of it, because you won’t even consider taking home leftovers.

Just because gourmet hot dogs are popping up all over town doesn’t mean that all hot dogs are created equal. And Biker Jim’s links remain the wildest, most exotic and delicious pups around. The chubby franks, most of which are sourced from Continental Sausage, are hoisted hot from the grill, split down the center and tucked into a soft bun, then given a fat squirt of cream cheese and festooned with sweet onions caramelized in Coca-Cola. A handful of dogs — rattlesnake and pheasant, Alaskan reindeer, a steak brat prepared Wellington style, a smoked bacon weenie paved with avocado purée and tomato cream cheese, and the elk-cheddar-jalapeño — are always on the menu. And on “What the $#@^% Wednesday,” who knows what owner and sausage-slinger Jim Pittenger might come with? The “Jackalope,” crowned with blue cheese, fried onions, bacon marmalade and Kewpie mayonnaise, is a good guess. Next up: unicorns.

Nothing says breakfast (or brunch) better than a plate of eggs Benedict, and no one does them better than Devil’s Food, a diabolical morning powerhouse in Washington Park, where the kitchen cooks up a trio of these morning glories: one with ham, another crowned with fresh spinach and ripe tomatoes, and a third slapped with smoked salmon and arugula. Each version boasts two wiggly, jiggly poached eggs plopped atop fresh challah and draped with a lemon-smooched Hollandaise that raises the dead like the morning sun.

There’s something about fried pickles — sometimes called “frickles” — that turns a sour mouth into a Cheshire-cat grin. TAG Burger Bar, which also pounds out bodacious burgers and adult milkshakes that make you quake, had perfected the fried pickle in a way that makes you want to pounce. The thick-cut cucumbers, pickled with coriander seeds, black peppercorns, garlic, sugar, salt, dill and white vinegar, are dredged in flour and breadcrumbs, then take a nose-dive in canola oil, and the results are fried pickle prestige. Pucker-proper on the inside with a crunchy and tawny exterior, they’re served in glass jars and paired with a ranch dipping sauce that packs a pinch of heat.

Grillin’ Wings & Things has really taken off since it opened last year; its wings soar above the rest. In one valiant sitting, you can stuff your face with traditional wings, deep-fried and hand-tossed in one of more than a dozen sauce offerings ranging from sweet to painfully hot, or wings that are char-grilled and liberally rubbed with spice mixtures. But we go hog-wild for the mini-, bone-in pork shank “wings,” meaty little pig squealers that make us oink all the way home.

While the dish’s origins are solidly steeped in the South, cooks far and wide have embraced the indisputable truth: There are few things as delicious as a juicy plate of fried chicken. And Tom’s Home Cookin’, an iconic soul-food shack in Five Points, is the incontestable bastion of the bird. Plunged in oil until the batter and skin meld into a crunchy, golden exterior that adheres to the tender meat, then punctuated with salt and pepper, the fried chicken here deserves its cultish legion of dedicated diehards, all of whom will stand in line for however long it takes to feed their soul. Just be forewarned: Tom’s shutters when the food runs out, and the fried chicken is almost always first to fly the coop.

Benihana is the Barnum & Bailey Circus of Japanese food, an unabashedly corny and often embarrassing centerfold of eye-rolling wisecracks, theatrics and occasional mishaps from the knife-wielding teppenyaki chefs who elevate (some would say disintegrate) food into an entertainment form. But guess what? The food here is nothing to sneer at, and the fried rice — allegedly a “top secret” recipe — is a dish that deserves a command performance. It’s a medley (as best we can tell) of fried eggs, soy sauce, garlic butter, sesame seeds and vegetables, and it arrives at the table long before the chefs toss your beef, chicken or shrimp on the plate — a ploy, we think, to ensure that you order another round. Most people do.

French-fry fans are unwavering in their preferences: Some like them matchstick-skinny, others covet the pencil-thin version, while still others prefer pudgy. And then there’s the issue of whether the french fry is intended to stand on its own, licked with nothing more than salt, or dipped in duck fat and blanketed with everything but the kitchen sink. The fresh-cut fries at Jonesy’s EatBar are thin — pencil-thin — deep-fried spuds of crisp golden crack, and they don’t require (God forbid) ketchup or anything else to make them perfectly palatable. Nonetheless, the kitchen here realizes that there are those who prefer their fries loaded up with more substance, so you can also order a version topped with bacon and cheese. Some regulars make this their daily meal.

Park Burger makes the (veggie) burger to beat in this city. All four locations stock the same patty, which uses egg to bind together rice, barley and other grains that give it a meaty texture without trying to imitate beef (always a mistake). The result is smashed on a grill and served up toasted golden-brown on a bun with lettuce, tomato, onion and special sauce. It’s tasty enough to work with no more than that, but you can also get creative with your burger, adding a slice of cheese, a fried egg, guacamole, jalapeños or anything else from the add-on menu. (Don’t forget Park Burger’s crispy, made-to-order fries, too.) The result is a messy delight that falls apart as you eat it — no meat required.

Even in this era of carbonated mojito spheres, caviar bubbles and beet cheesecake, the hamburger remains America’s favorite food, and burger fans — of which you are undoubtedly one — are insanely opinionated about what the consummate burger should look and taste like. Highland Tap & Burger gets to the meat of the matter, serving its plump, char-grilled patties every which way: from classically naked to blanketed with cheese to whimsically fancified with feather-light shavings of foie gras. The beef, all Angus and 100 percent natural, is judiciously seasoned, cooked to temperature (if you want your beef to be bloody-red squish, the kitchen is happy to oblige), and the buns — white, whole wheat or gluten-free — are soft but sturdy. Tear into it, make a mess, and dribble ’til the cows come home.

Here’s a meaty subject: Why is Denver so shy of good barbecue spots? There’s no easy answer for that — but there’s an easy answer for the best BBQ joint in town. And the best just got better this year when Boney’s Smokehouse, Lamont and Trina Lynch’s downtown, down-home restaurant, moved into a much bigger space next door that not only allowed for an expansion of hours, but an expansion of the menu, as well. Lamont, a native of Florida, has spent years giving a Southern tweak to a repertoire of family recipes imported from the Bahamas; as a result, the barbecue here defies categorization. It’s simply Lamont style, and that’s very good, indeed. He relies on a dry rub and smokes the meat — brisket, pulled pork, hot links, chicken and ribs — over low heat for a long time. He and Trina make their own sauces; the house version is thick and tomato-based, both tangy and peppery, though not too spicy — and there’s a jalapeño-infused version, too.

Waffling about the perfect cocktail is hardly sexy, but indecision is often the result when you’re confronted with a menu full of clever names and obscure ingredients. You know what you want, but nothing looks quite right. Not to worry: The bartenders at Colt & Gray have you covered. Not only is their bar stocked with every spirit known, but they also have an array of house-made bitters and other mixers at their disposal — and they know the exact flavor profile of every liquid behind that bar. So don’t bother trying to remember the name of that perfect drink you once had on vacation in Italy. Just describe some flavors that turn you on, or tell them about a cocktail you dreamed about, or maybe just name your favorite band and movie. A moment’s pause and they get to work. A shake or a stir later, and you’ll be sitting there with a great drink in your hand, so you can get back to being sexy.

With so many contemporary-cocktail choices out there, you don’t want a mixologist messing with your martini — throwing in fruit and chocolate or, God forbid, edging the glass with chile powder. You want your martini as classic as the atmosphere in which it’s served. And for that, you want Elway’s. Grab a seat at the bar, tell bar manager Ky Belk what you want — and then prepare to be shaken, if not stirred.

Which came first, the chicken or the waffle? There may be a lot of disagreement about how this dish came about, but almost everyone agrees that the unusual combination of sweet and savory is delicious, which is why it’s a staple of Southern cuisine. And you’ll be heading south across the border — at least hypothetically — for Denver’s best plate of chicken and waffles, served up during the weekend brunch at Lola. Although the restaurant is inspired by the coastal regions of Mexico, the brunch menu travels some unusual territory, serving up a great chicken-fried steak and a version of chicken and waffles that pairs a buttermilk-brined fried chicken breast and waffles with chorizo gravy and a sweet cherry syrup.

If we want to drink tequila, we’re going to drink it straight. But lately, we’ve been thirsting for that most adult of slurpies: a frozen margarita. Popular in other parts of the country, they’re a rarity in Colorado (probably because the heated stares of margarita purists are enough to melt them into syrup) but a specialty at Hacienda Colorado, the “Mountain Mex” chain founded by Tim Schmidt. He’s even the namesake of one of his homegrown chain’s frozen margs, the Timmer, which has a Grand Marnier floater. But we prefer Hacienda Colorado’s frozen house marg, made with nothing more than Margaritaville Gold Tequila and fresh-squeezed lime juice. Cool!

Central Bistro & Bar is hot. You don’t need to look further than the “Hot” sign over the open kitchen — a vestige of the Regency Hotel once owned by the family of Central founder Isiah Salazar — to recognize that. But this new spot on the edge of LoHi also serves up one of the coolest cocktails in town: a barrel-aged Manhattan made with St. George Breaking & Entering Bourbon. Sip it while looking over the skyline of downtown Denver, and you’ve got an experience for the ages.

Denver is notorious for sucking down and spitting out wine bars, so it’s something of an accomplishment for an independently owned enoteca to last more than a hot minute. Cellar Wine Bar is now verging on three, and during that time, it’s uncorked a perfect pairing of ambience, service and quality juice that continues to surprise and delight downtown dwellers. While the past year was not without ups and downs for this tiny LoHi spot (opening sommelier/manager Evan William and chef Joe Freemond both moved on), there’s one thing about CWB that has remained consistent: an always-delicious list full of great wine. Whether you’re part of a smitten couple on date night, with friends celebrating the end of a long week, or in need of a quiet spot to relax solo over a glass of something soothing, Cellar Wine Bar continues to welcome you with style — and exactly the wine you’ve been craving.

It could have been the stunning cocktail program at Root Down that made us overlook the wine list for years. But that changed last summer, when we spent a magical, wine-soaked evening on the patio falling head over heels in love with its delightfully eclectic vinous selections. What makes Root Down’s list so bewitching? First, the variety. Root Down is killing us softly with old- and new-world choices that seem simultaneously familiar and flossy, interesting yet always approachable. Second, (eco)credibility. If you thought only the food here was organic, think again; Root Down’s commitment to all things green extends to its wine list, which boasts one of the most respectable groupings of sustainable and biodynamic grape juice in town. Last but not least (to us) is price: The vast majority of wines on offer can be had for less than $50. Need yet another reason to swoon? The list features a handful of food-friendly sakes and half bottles, too.

After opening last November amid a flurry of industry- and hipster-driven buzz, this tiny jewel of a restaurant has settled into a pattern of turning out ridiculously good food to a packed dining room night after night. We were delighted to discover that the Populist’s wine program was just as unassuming — and satisfying — as its menu: by-the-glass pours (five white, five red, two bubbly) somehow cost only $4 each, yet showcase marvels like La Spinetta’s juicy Il Nero di Casanova sangiovese and the bracingly mineral-driven Laurenz V. grüner veltliner. Bottled selections should thrill both wine geek and novice alike; familiar zinfandel cozies up to esoteric godello without fanfare or frills. The best thing about this small but mighty list? It never seems to take itself too seriously — always remembering that at the end of the day (or meal, as it were), wine is all about having fun.

Row 14’s dizzying array of wine that can be ordered by the glass — more than forty options in all, evenly divided between reds and whites — is reason to toast. Creating a killer BTG wine program is no easy feat. Offer too few selections that aren’t regularly updated, and you run the risk of failing to keep guests intrigued. Feature a lineup that’s too ambitious — or changes too frequently — and you might alienate fans who look forward to finding their faves night after night. On top of those challenges, wine-by-the-glass programs have the less-than-enviable task of needing to satisfy both drinkers with absolutely zero intention of pairing their vino with anything other than their thirst and diners eager to mix and match glasses to each course. Still, Row 14 has designed the perfect list for everyone. Cheers!

Denver’s craft beer scene is officially on fire. Which means that wine lovers are liable to end up at more than a few dining destinations whose emphasis on malt-and-hops-based beverages does not portend a pleasurable evening of wine enjoyment. Thank Bacchus for Euclid Hall, that elusive venue that doesn’t overlook guests who prefer vino just because beer is the star of its beverage program. In fact, if you didn’t know better, Euclid’s crazy-good wine list might make you wonder whether beer really is its bag. White wines run the gamut from albariño to Alsatian gewürztraminer (the ideal pour for those hand-cranked sausages); reds include everything from pinot noir to petit syrah. So the next time you find yourself barside at Euclid Hall, don’t be surprised if those suds in your neighbor’s bevvie are gracing a glass of bubbly.

TRVE Brewing is one of Denver’s newest — and smallest — beer-makers, but the long, slender space that was once an art gallery is now home to one of the city’s biggest communal tables: a forty-foot, solid-wood masterpiece lined with benches on either side. The thing is so big that traffic had to be stopped on Broadway when it was installed, and, as brewery owner Nick Nunns says, “If you really squeeze a cheek, you can probably fit forty to fifty people.” The perfect beer to set on it? Try Hellion, TRVE’s low-alcohol “table beer.”

It’s good to be king, and Falling Rock Tap House has ruled this city’s craft beer scene since owner Chris Black opened the place sixteen years ago, serving rare beers from sought-after breweries all over Colorado, across the country and even overseas. If Falling Rock doesn’t have the beer you’re looking for, it’s probably not possible to get it in Colorado. You might have a hard time making a decision when you’re staring at eighty taps, so you’ll want to take a peek at the frequently updated beer menu before you hit up the bartender for advice. Still, half the fun is trying something you’ve never heard of. Go ahead, take a sip.

One hundred bottles of beer on the wall, one hundred bottles of beer. Take one down and pass it around, 99 bottles of beer on the wall. Unless you’re at the Cheeky Monk Belgian Beer Cafe, which has more like 150 different bottles in its cellar, including rare Belgian and American specialties that you may not be able to find anywhere else. Open since 2007, the Cheeky Monk is the place to go when you’re looking for something different.

A brewpub needs to do two things: serve its own food and make its own beer. Since opening in 2008, the Vine Street Pub has done the former very well, offering a mix of healthy fare, Colorado-centered creations and elevated pub food, like its meaty, award-winning wings. But last April, the neighborhood spot also became the primary brewing facility for its owner, the Mountain Sun group, which has three other locations, all in Boulder. Vine Street now brings together its already excellent menu with outstanding beers, a mellow vibe, growlers of beer to go, and a sunny patio to give the east side of town a can’t-miss spot. Way to put the “brew” in brewpub.

As craft-beer culture grows, breweries, bars and restaurants increasingly add to their collections of style-appropriate glassware. But it took a single-minded dedication on the part of Black Shirt Brewing to help design a brand-new — and somewhat challenging — glass with Golden’s Offero Vessels. Based on a coffee-mug design engineered to capture the aromas of a drink as you bring the glass to your lips, the glasses, one with a stem and one without, have slanted rims that can result in spills but also forces drinkers to concentrate on the beverage before them. It’s the only glass you’ll find at Black Shirt, which opened in October 2012, but even that wouldn’t help if the beer wasn’t tasty. At Black Shirt, each one is a gem — and worthy of careful, thoughtful sipping.

Located just off the main drag, in the heart of the Art District on Santa Fe, Renegade Brewing has attracted a satisfying mix of regulars and new visitors since it opened in 2011. With its high ceilings, massive windows, garage doors, exposed brick and gorgeous wooden bar, the tap room is welcoming and cozy, but also large enough to host your after-work happy hour on a moment’s notice. Open seven days a week, Renegade typically features a food truck out front and a wide variety of beers on tap, from low-alcohol session ales for more timid drinkers to giant malt or hop bombs for adventurous types. Altogether, it makes for an excellent ambassador for Denver’s beer culture.

Crooked Stave brews what is perhaps the most challenging style of beer — not just for the palates of the general public, but for craft-beer lovers, as well. Sour and wild ales are fermented, usually in wooden barrels, with specific kinds of yeast and bacteria that add funky, occasionally off-putting and potentially addictive flavors to beer. It’s not a new fad; the Belgians have been making this style of beer for hundreds of years. But almost no one in the country, let alone Colorado, does it as well as Crooked Stave owner Chad Yakobson, who has built up such a fierce following that his skills are borrowed by other brewers across the country and his ales are talked about by beer geeks around the world. You’ll always find a couple of them on tap in the Barrel Cellar (along with interesting people from unexpected places). Crooked Stave will triple its production this year, from 450 to 2,000 barrels, which still makes it one of the smallest breweries in Colorado, but one with an enormous footprint.

Eight new breweries opened in Denver in 2012, while at least that many opened in the surrounding counties, making the metro area one of the best tap-room destinations in the country. Prost Brewing combines the best parts of a German bier hall (beautifully made, easy-drinking craft lagers, a copper kettle, long wooden tables, buskery decorations and giant steins) with the comforting familiarity of an Old West saloon (rough floors, a long bar and a mirrored barback). In addition to its own beers, which are brewed by award-winning master Bill Eye, Prost serves beers made by Dad n Dudes and Tivoli Brewing, and hosts various German-style food trucks or catering companies on a regular basis.

You won’t want to stop till the glittery balls of light stop spinning at the Corner Office, which hosts a disco-themed brunch every Sunday, complete with “I Will Survive” bottomless Bloody Marys. At $15, they’re not a cheap date, but the pour starts with a generous plop of Sobieski vodka — and then the rest is up to you. While most bars issue a cease-and-desist order after the tomato juice, shakes of salt and pepper and a stalk of celery, the Bloody Mary bar here features a knock-out smorgasbord of customary — and crazy — garnish blasts: marinated olives, haricots verts, watermelon radishes, shoestring potatoes, bacon, various hot sauces and spices, pickled eggplant…and pork belly. The combinations are endless, and with so many add-ons, it’s breakfast in a glass. Bring a thirsty appetite and, if you plan to drink endlessly, a designated chauffeur.

A bar — a really good bar — should function like a kitchen. And bartenders — really, really good ones — should put signature stamps on their cocktails the same way that a really good chef handprints his food. A chef like Max MacKissock at Squeaky Bean, for example. So it’s no surprise that the Bean’s innovative bar program, commanded by Sean Kenyon and a squad of other serious spirit geeks, takes the modern cocktail movement to the next level. The roster, divided into 1970s and ’80s movie headings — The Longest Yard (tall drinks); Rocky III (all drinks served on block ice); Up the Academy (drinks that are served up) — is compact and focused, but also crafty and ambitious. Particularly intriguing are the Weird Science offerings, a catalogue of smoked cocktails that, like the rest of the list, change on a whim. For all the drinks, the ingredients are market-fresh; the ice is hand-carved and tailored to whatever you’re sipping; the spices, sourced from the Savory Spice Shop, are aromatized and ground in-house; and there’s even a PolyScience smoking gun that infuses billows of vapor into the cocktails. It’s an exceptionally innovative program that doesn’t miss a drop.

When Snooze opened its first location in 2006 in the Ballpark neighborhood, restaurateurs in Denver — and soon, across the country — woke up and took notice. Today there are four Snoozes in the metro area, with more to come both inside and out of Colorado. With its retro dining room, hipper-than-thou clientele of club kids and big weekend crowds, Snooze can sometimes be a very annoying place to eat. But it can also be a very good place to eat, especially if you crave pancakes. The sweet-potato version is particularly satisfying, but if you’re craving sugar, there are many sweet offerings on the table. Make them even sweeter by adding an innovative breakfast cocktail.

Dive bars are drying up in Denver, swept away by tides of development. We’ve lost many of this city’s old saloons over the last few years, which makes the survival of Carioca Cafe — better known as Bar Bar — something to celebrate. Perhaps with a drink or ten. It’s fascinating to watch how the clientele at this spot at the edge of downtown changes over the course of a day (and three happy hours). Get there at noon and you can grab a cup of coffee and reading material — or just study some of Denver’s finest barflies, a few of whom might have been there since the doors opened at 7 a.m. As the hour gets later, an assortment of hipsters, punks and rockers mixes in with those barflies, the live music starts, and the next thing you know, it’s last call. Dive, he said.

Ace is much more than a bar, of course. Owners Josh and Jen Wolkon took a cavernous, 9,000-square-foot garage next to Steuben’s and turned it into a hangout extraordinaire, with an ambitious kitchen that reinterprets Asian food with smart, silly twists; a huge front patio with a couple of ping-pong tables; and a back room with many more. But even without the ping-pong, this space would feel like a party: lights low, music pumping, the decor full of fun touches and, most important, a big, curvy bar that barman Randy Layman has stocked with scorpion bowls, alcoholic shaved ices and clever cocktails. The menu has gone through a few tweaks since the place opened last August — but as a bar, Ace has scored from the start.

See also: A look at the last dozen years of Best New Bar winners

Interstate is modeled after an old-time roadhouse, right in the heart of the city, and there’s no better place to pull over for a late-night happy hour. Interstate’s runs from midnight to 1:30 a.m., with offerings that include deviled eggs ($1 each); fried chicken livers, a pulled-pork slider or the legendary lap dog ($2 each); and bacon corn, fried pickles or a mini-green salad ($3 each). The equally economical liquid assets count a “cooler of cold ones,” with five cans (barkeep’s choice) for $9, Genny Cream Ale on tap for $2, and a whiskey shooter for $3 among them. When the clock strikes twelve, we brake for Interstate.

There’s hardly an hour of the day (or night) that Virgilio’s Pizzeria & Wine Bar doesn’t pimp happy hour. From 11 a.m. to 6 p.m. daily, plus 9 p.m. to close Sunday through Thursday and 10 p.m. to close on Friday and Saturday, this suburban Italian joint pours $4 glasses of bubbles and red and white vino, along with premium well drinks for $3.50. And then there’s the 20 percent off every single bottle of premium and reserve wines, of which there are numerous Italian winners. And that’s not all: Twenty-ounce sangrias are just $5, and draft pints and bottles ring in between $2.50 and $4.75. But don’t drink your entire dinner: The garlic knots and pizzas at Virgilio’s are legendary.

Being a great bartender is about far more than mixing magic — although that element is certainly important. But a bartender’s role behind the stick is also about spending time with those bellied up to the bar, whether they’re high rollers or gravediggers. And Courtney Wilson, now a bartender at the very new Old Major after her most recent stint at Williams & Graham, deserves heroine worship for the way she straddles the line between professional and perky. She’s engaging and exuberant and nearly religious when waxing poetic about the city’s cocktail landscape, and she’s clearly moved by spirits, as evidenced by her ingenuity when crafting cocktails — whether they’re on the syllabus or one of her clever one-offs. Wilson comes off as genuine and knowledgeable but never snooty, and she doesn’t overthink what she pours in your drink. Like the pro that she is, she just gets it.

A few years ago, Jeff Osaka, chef-owner of twelve, issued a plea to his fellow troops: Call me. Let’s get together and hang and talk about how we can continue to capitalize on Denver’s ever-evolving restaurant landscape. Osaka, a brilliant chef in his own right, has made it his mission to make sure that chefs in this city have a place to gather (oftentimes at his own restaurant), and the flock that does isn’t remotely cliquish. Instead, his monthly get-togethers are all-encompassing, and they’re lively and informal, too, although hot topics — Denver Restaurant Week, the health department, working closely with local growers and farmers, and satisfying guests — are usually on the table. We often hear local chefs laud this city’s culinary camaraderie, and credit for some of that should go to Osaka, who doesn’t just talk the talk — he walks the walk.

On the first Tuesday of every month, Daniel Asher, the kitchen magician at Root Down and a certified raw-foods chef, sets out to prove that a plant-based diet is anything but banal or boring, and he succeeds beautifully, turning out vibrant raw vegan dishes, all of which are organically sourced. His hummus is a showstopper, his squash pasta a mind-altering experience — the cashew cream sauce an impossibly perfect substitute for dairy — and the way he treats and prepares his vegetables is nothing short of miraculous. It’s cooking steeped in consciousness, but it’s also cooking that even a carnivore would crave.

Olav Peterson, the brilliantly talented chef/grower/gardener/owner of Bittersweet, draws a crowd at his lovely West Washington Park restaurant, an urban oasis hedged with a stunning 600-square-foot organic garden (it doubles as a patio), from which Peterson plucks seasonal foodstuffs. Sure, locavorism started long ago, and sourcing locally is nothing new, but Peterson is his own pioneer, steadfastly dedicated to growing as many of his own ingredients as he possibly can — and the intimate relationship he has with those fruits, herbs and vegetables allows him to change his menu to accommodate the best of the season.

If the kitchen is a stage, then Lon Symensma, chef-owner of ChoLon, is its undisputed star. He exudes extraordinary verve and charisma behind — and beyond — the line, and there’s no end to his experimental innovation and bedazzling flavors and textures. But even more important is his endless pursuit of perfection, evident in every dish he creates, plates and tastes before it’s whisked from the kitchen. He leaves absolutely nothing to chance, cooking with precision and finesse, standing guard over his troops and exposing his soul in every sauce, glaze, skewer, dumpling, potsticker and egg cloud that touches your lips. This is the kind of restaurant — and Symensma is the kind of chef — that makes you want to drop everything you’re doing and just surrender to delicious temptation.

See also: A look at the last decade of Best Chef winners

For an unofficial — and free — lesson in masterful raw cookery, head straight to TAG|RAW BAR, where every stool gives you insider access to the workings of chef Shaun Motada, whose pedigreed techniques speak to a real counter culture. Motada and his staff cook at a supersonic but controlled pace as they prepare a series of brilliant small plates and raw-fish compositions: kangaroo steak tartare, citrus-spiked ceviches, stunning sashimi and sushi rolls, ramen noodle bowls. It’s a counter where you can live — and eat — a little dangerously, tossing your whims and fancies straight to the kitchen crew, whose ambitious combinations will rock your world. What chef doesn’t want to see instant gratification? And that’s exactly what diners get, too, when they park their butts in Motada’s open kingdom.

We love sweet, fruit-thickened jams, and we especially love what they do to a buttered baguette at breakfast. But raspberries, apricots and figs don’t have anything on kaya, the coconut jam served at Makan Malaysian Cafe. Made with eggs, coconut milk, sugar and floral pandan essence, the jam is cooked for more than an hour over a double-boiler until it is thick enough to spread. And spread it you will, in a thick, custardy layer over pieces of white toast, giving just the right accent to your soft-boiled egg in the traditional Malaysian breakfast of kaya toast, sold here on weekends only. Hint: It’s probably not very good with peanut butter.

Thanks to extensive relationships with farmers and ranchers, The Kitchen Denver is always in sync with the seasons. So it might seem impossible to single out one dish that best captures a moment in time — tantamount to asking a parent which child he or she loves best. But late summer’s burrata-and-peach bruschetta tells you otherwise, with crusty bread, creamy burrata and fat peach slices so juicy and sweet, you taste a string of warm days spent splashing in the pool and cool nights sipping mojitos and barbecuing with friends in every bite.

A glass of bubbly and a cheese plate on the tiny balcony of your lower-level apartment just isn’t enough to take your life to the next level. For a panorama that spans every which way, try the classy rooftop deck at Linger, where lounging is a lovely way of life. Gaggles of trendy twenty-something girlfriends, their legs as long as licorice ropes, hang out after work; smitten couples come to soak up the blue skies by day and the stars at night, their love illuminated by the patio’s own twinkling amber lights. No matter who you are — or where you sit — you’ll feel cool as a cucumber as you sip on cocktails and traverse Linger chef-owner Justin Cucci’s globe-trotting menu.

Given that this is a city saturated with sunshine, it’s no wonder that al fresco dining is one of our most coveted leisurely pastimes, and the lovely back porch at Potager will transport you to the pastoral French countryside for a tranquil, delicious dinner. Strewn with weathered wooden tables and chairs, rimmed with pots and rustic whiskey barrels filled with fragrant fresh herbs, and surrounded by beds of berries and a variety of perfect vegetables, it’s a magical patio that mirrors chef-owner Teri Rippeto’s seasonally inspired cooking, much of it elevated by what she plants in her restaurant’s bewitching back yard.

There are numerous reasons to be out and about in Denver, even at 3 a.m., and Tom’s Urban 24 will make sure that you never go to bed with a growling belly — although if you’re two sheets to the wind, you might have a few problems maneuvering your way through the menu, which is as long as the work day is short. A new addition to Denver’s very small round-the-clock lineup, Tom’s is a massive, hip joint on the edge of Larimer Square. Spry young servers deliver food that’s anything but diner-standard, with options including deviled eggs, truffled lobster and shrimp pot pie, thin-crusted pizzas topped with figs, and even pho. There are plenty of other insomnia-assisters, too: burgers, Mexican staples, eggs done every which way, salads and sandwiches, all of which promise to fortify you for that late-night prowl. There’s also a full bar pouring beers, craft cocktails and wine until 2 a.m. and starting again five hours later — which gives all-nighters an excuse to return bright and early for a daily dose of hangover-helping liquid courage.

These seedy San Diego-style taco huts, both of which are 24/7 operations with the luxury of drive-thru windows (a huge perk at 2 a.m., when garish lights do justice to no one), dole out the diviest drunk food south of the border: tacos, tortas, quesadillas, taquitos, nachos and huge mounds of carne asada fries blanketed with cheese and green chile. Salsas, red and green, give everything a fever jolt. The interiors aren’t much to look at, and the tables are typically strewn with someone else’s late-night Styrofoam, but the prices are geared toward paupers, and while you’ll have to get your liquid courage elsewhere — there’s no alcohol — a Mexican Coke at midnight loads you up with just enough caffeine to keep your eyeballs open.

The women on the late shift at the Denver Diner don’t take any shit — but they don’t dish it, either. Whether you drop in at 2 a.m. on a Wednesday when the place is quiet or 2 a.m. on a Saturday when customers are hanging from the rafters, the staff keeps its cool. The service is consistently efficient and friendly: Orders are taken quickly, customer requests are granted without a fuss, and the coffee is always hot. Plus, it seems that the superwomen of the Denver Diner all have untouchably perfect acrylic nails, and for some reason, it’s not offensive that they call everyone “Baby.”

Denver has many restaurants that pimp class and sass, but sometimes nothing soothes the soul like cheap breakfasts with buttery hash browns slapped on the flattop, sandwiches stacked the height of Gary Coleman, pancakes that span the plate and unlimited jolts of java. For all of that and more, there’s nowhere better than 20th Street Cafe, an iconic pit stop that opens at daylight and continues plying patrons with throwback eats through the bustling lunch hour. It’s a salt-of-the-earth greasy spoon, as every true diner should be, holding down this particular spot of downtown for decades before LoDo even came into being.

“Baby, it’s not you, it’s me.” If that’s the conversation coming up, then Punch Bowl — Social is the place to walk the talk. This spot has all the bases covered: There’s the parlor room with cushy sofas and chairs and dim lighting, so that you can hide your tears and bury your busted ego in one of the water-resistant leather armrests. The always-occupied bathrooms are an ideal refuge where you can seek solace from other jilted lovers. There are ping-pong tables — with paddles, on the off-chance that you want to want to engage in a spanking war — as well as a bowling alley with heavy balls, if you feel like accidentally dropping one on a toe. And don’t miss the photo booth, where you can take one last picture of your relationship at the bitter end — then put the resulting photo on the dart board and proceed to deface it. Best of all, Punch Bowl is open late — so as you hang around the bar, drowning your sorrows in punch after punch, you may very well meet someone else.

First dates can be make it/break it propositions — and there are rules for getting it right, including minding your manners, wearing the right shoes, forgoing the offensive cologne, covering your private parts with clean underwear and making sure that your socks match. Beyond those, you don’t want to be too frugal, nor do you want to come across as one of those flashy types who tosses money around like it’s raining gold coins. So it’s also important to find the correct place for a first-date outing: a place that has an appropriate energy level, atmospheric tunes, flattering lighting, an exceptionally good menu that accommodates both weird eaters and bona fide gastronauts, down-the-middle prices and plenty of liquid assets. Jonesy’s EatBar fulfills all of these requirements, and it scores even higher on the first-date barometer because it’s right next door to the Horseshoe Lounge, where, if things go smoothly, you and your date can get down and dirty. And even if the date completely sucks, Jonesy’s is the kind of place that you’ll want to return to with friends.

You won’t get cold coffee or the cold shoulder at Rooster & Moon. The staff at this coffee shop/bar will offer a single customer multiple greetings before he even reaches the counter. These baristas know the importance of politeness, and they’ll never make you wait to order while they commiserate with each other — or spill a story to you. Instead, they’ll listen courteously as you ask which Allegro coffee beverage to try or which sandwich is the best — we recommend the $5 Four Cheese Grilled Cheese — and then give informed, honest recommendations.

There’s no reason that OAK at Fourteenth’s plate of antioxidant-rich greens should be so much better than the rest. The dressing is nothing to crow about — just lemon and extra-virgin olive oil. The add-ons aren’t any flashier — a dusting of parmesan, thin slices of apple, some candied almonds for crunch. But as with movies on the big screen, it’s not the words themselves, but the delivery that counts. And this kale salad, like Clark Gable’s “Frankly, my dear, I don’t give a damn,” will long stay etched in our memory.

There are “chef’s choice” salads at Choppers Custom Salads for those who might not be fully on board with the concept of customization — and they’re delicious salads, made with fresh ingredients chopped up with rocking blades into bite-sized pieces that get tossed in dressing before landing in your bowl (and, eventually, your mouth). But for those who embrace the build-your-own notion, Choppers is one of the best options around. Pick your lettuce type and up to four ingredients from the extensive (but sensibly arranged) list. The dozen protein options include tofu, and all of the salad dressings are clearly labeled as gluten- and/or lactose-free. And, of course, the possibilities include all the vegetables you could possibly want to add to a salad, with a reasonable selection of fruit and nuts, too. Healthy, tasty and served up chop-chop!

When it comes to our daily bread — and everything tucked inside — Vert Kitchen, a diminutive sandwich shop in West Washington Park, is our culinary playground for sandwich supremacy. There are no crazy combinations here that require a Mensa IQ in order to figure out which sandwich or toppings you want. Instead, the tiny roster boasts just eight sandwiches that are sheer genius in their simplicity, with every ingredient, from the bacon to the Bibb lettuce, picked for its superb quality. Well-crafted sandwiches are in short supply in this city, but Vert has the verve and technique to elevate the lowly sandwich to the culinary level it deserves when done right.

The halal cart parked at the gas station on the corner of Colfax and Josephine is like a bite of the Big Apple spit out in Denver. The cart offers burgers, fries, gyros and corn on the cob, but the big rice plates are the real deal. Try chicken and lamb piled high on a bed of salty rice and bag salad that’s then liberally topped with addictive if nondescript red and white sauces. Most full meals (soda included) cost less than six bucks. Food trucks might be all the rage, but this cart is street-smart.

The offerings at Vegan Van keep getting better as the all-plant-based food truck keeps rolling. Owner and operator Amie Arias has been incorporating local products in her shifting seasonal menu, and she’s meticulous about updating the van’s online calendar and Twitter feed, so fans always know what’s on the roster — and where to get the goodies. You’ll usually find Vegan Van parked outside a microbrewery, Nooch Vegan Market or Sweet Action Ice Cream at dinnertime, making it easy for vegans on the go to grab some guilt-free grub.

During football season, the outgoing owners of the Orange Crunch food cart pay homage to the Denver Broncos — hence the cart’s name — by garbing themselves in home-team gear colored bright blue and even brighter orange, which happens to be the same hue as their fantastic Filipino empanadas, deep-fried half-moon crescents made with rice flour and stuffed with everything from shredded green papaya and mung beans to bison, bacon or (gulp) alligator. And those greaseless marvels are just the beginning of the food-fueled touchdowns that continue with Filipino egg rolls; crackling pork belly straddling a mound of rice; and fried “nanners,” pastry-wrapped bananas caramelized in brown sugar and dusted with powdered sugar. Score!

While other food trucks hustle burgers, pizza and ice cream — not that there’s anything wrong with those — Pink Tank, which is indeed the hue of a ballerina’s tutu, is where you go for the F-Bomb, a hefty hot dog weighted with thick strips of bacon, scrambled eggs and cheddar mounted on French toast fairy-dusted with powdered sugar and glossed with maple syrup infused with caramel. The truck is an unapologetic shrine to swine, with bacon appearing here, there and everywhere — including on its own, in a mountainous heap of glory. Just get that and a glass of lemonade (pink, obviously), and you’ll be in hog heaven.

At restaurants across town, it’s not hard to rack up a big bill: Those small plates add up, and one steakhouse slab can carve out a day’s pay. But if the sky — or at least your card’s credit — is the limit, you’re looking not just for fabulous food, but impeccable service and an upscale ambience to match. And for that, you’re not going to do any better than Restaurant Kevin Taylor, the restaurant tucked into a corner of Hotel Teatro, and overseen by Kevin Taylor. The space is intimate and elegant but not overbearing, the service attentive but not obsequious, the wine list comprehensive and the food absolutely stunning. Your bill will be, too.

The Vietnamese bakery and deli that New Saigon opened last year locks its doors at 4 p.m., so you’ll need to plan ahead. But you can order two banh mi sandwiches and get change back from a ten — so holding onto them until dinner is mostly a matter of self-control. Then, when the moment strikes, that crusty baguette — the freshest in town — filled with crunchy vegetables, pungent cilantro and your choice of marinated, grilled or cured meats will disappear like a guinea pig confronted by a python. The second sandwich is clearly too much food, but saving it for later just means thinking about nothing but banh mi until then. Besides, order two and you’ll be able to try more of the meat fillings, which include sweet, fatty pork belly; barbecued beef; grilled chicken; even sardines. You’ll only break between bites to quench the fire from the raw slices of jalapeño. And at this price, getting a boba smoothie to do that job won’t break the bank.

Black Eye Coffee keeps its brews to a sophisticatedly high standard that appeals to a growing crowd of java aficionados, using the handcrafted method of pour-over to personally construct each cup of Sweet Yellow Brazil, Ethiopian Yirgacheffe or whichever of the four varieties is on the bi-weekly rotation. While you sip, it’s not uncommon to find yourself conversing with one of the three java-Jedi owners of Black Eye on topics ranging from fair-trade beans, to the necessity of roasting beans at elevation for an elevation brew, to why Starbucks just doesn’t understand the subtle nuances of a properly executed cup of coffee.

Cheap lunches tend to be greasy, and while we love those smothered burritos and cheesy slices of pizza, we also live in the real world, where work, not a nap, follows the mid-day meal. So for a fraction of the grease — not to mention a better balance of protein and carbs to help you power through the day — try the chicken shawarma sandwich at House of Kabob. Full of chopped, marinated chicken — enough to fill two sandwiches — the pita hardly has room for the hummus, lettuce and tomato also folded inside. Priced at $4.95, you’ll top out above five when you add the tax, but this lunch is worth a few extra cents.

The best ice cream should be rich, creamy and packed with flavor, without being overly sweet or gooey. Glacier, which got its start in Boulder but is slowly spreading along the Front Range, nails it with a dense, unctuous base and flavors so intense you won’t even think about adding toppings. Traditionalists and adventurous eaters alike will find something to love in the kid-pleasing Three Nut Rocky Road or the more complex, adult flavors of the Blueberry Zinfandel sorbet or Green Tea White Chocolate gelato.

Spoon? Straw? No matter how you suck them down — and no matter the season — the handmade milkshakes at Sassafras American Eatery, a breakfast/lunch spot that brought new life to Jefferson Park last year, are a connoisseur’s crack. There are more than twenty versions, all served in old-timey glass jars with a spoon for support and a straw for those who like to slurp. They’re all thick, hand-mixed with rich ice cream, but what really seals the deal are the add-ons: M&M’s, gingersnap cookies, salted caramel pretzels and chocolate-dipped bacon, all of which give the shakes texture. For a dip into nostalgia, order the Cap’n Crunch shake and channel your inner cartoon character. The only thing missing is a bobble doll.

When you feel that ominous tickle in your throat, you need chicken soup — and you need it fast. But Grandma’s too busy watching your sister’s kids to make it for you, and this is hardly the time to pull out the stockpot. So before you crawl under the covers, make a stop at New York Deli News for a box (yes, a cardboard box) full of comfort: chicken in the pot. The meal includes a quart of chicken soup, loaded with curly noodles, shredded chicken and carrots (and salt, but this isn’t the time for quibbling); half a chicken; a few slices of rye; and a matzo ball big enough to fling over home plate. Salad is included, too, but save that for when you’re feeling better. Even without it, chicken in the pot is big enough to cover your next few meals.

You might think an extra dose of willpower is necessary to shun fluffy omelets or pancakes with whipped cream in favor of doctor-approved toasted oats. But at Early Bird, a cheerful new breakfast and lunch spot in Westminster, the granola makes it easy to start the day off right. Thick Greek yogurt serves as the foil for sweetened, toasted oats packed with pumpkin and sunflower seeds, coconut, pistachios and pecans. Depending on the season, apples or fresh berries might serve as the proverbial cherry on top. Best of all, a heap of granola is placed in the bowl before the yogurt goes in, then another layer is sprinkled on top, so you’re never left without that tasty crunch.

Fifteen years ago, if someone had said the city’s best new restaurant was a ramen shop, you might’ve asked, “What’s a ramen shop?” But we’re living in a post-Momofuku era, where the virtues of minimalist decor, cloudy broth and curly noodles are commonly extolled, so today most Denver diners would shake their heads knowingly and reply, “I know, isn’t Uncle terrific?” Even before you’ve pushed back from the bustling counter, belly full of steamed buns with avocado and mint, crispy Brussels sprouts, spicy chicken ramen and pear cider, you’re contemplating your return to Tommy Lee’s breakout hit. Unfortunately, you’ll have to wait longer than you’d like: Uncle isn’t open for lunch, which might be the only thing we don’t like about the place. Lee’s idea may not be new, but his execution is superb at Uncle, with consistently excellent service and food.

See also: A look at the last decade of Best New Restaurant winners

Let’s face it: Most brunch displays are mirror images of each other: omelets, waffles, strips of (cold) bacon and shriveled sausage links. And more often than not, you’ll pay through the pancake for that kind of carbon-copy brunch spread — most of it stuff that you could make at home. If you wanted to. Guadalajara Authentic Mexican Buffet has a different kind of brunch — and a remarkably inexpensive one at that. Priced at $9.99 per person during the week and $15.99 on the weekends — when the spread includes fresh oysters, ceviches, seafood soups and shrimp prepared in a variety of ways — it’s a full day’s worth of flavor-bombed fuel that will feed your belly without starving your wallet.

Other parts of Denver — Ballpark neighborhood into RiNo, Broadway and points south — are becoming hot dining destinations. But the LoHi restaurant scene continues to be red-hot — with no sign of cooling down. At the end of 2012, the LoHi Merchant Group did a count of the restaurants, eateries, bars and coffee shops in this quadrant at the edge of Highland — from I-25 to Federal Boulevard, West 38th Avenue to Speer Boulevard — and the tally topped fifty, more than double what it was six years ago. And the restaurants keep coming. Every time a space opens up, eager restaurateurs pounce. And they’re not bringing in pre-fabbed, fast-casual joints; the businesses that opened in LoHi last year — including Jezebel’s, Central Bistro & Bar and Uncle — are some of the most exciting in the city, with Old Major already upping the ante for 2013.

Irresistible dishes that make you swoon, unpretentious consistency and sincerity, a pedigreed but informal staff and laid-back dining rooms that encourage conversation with friends and strangers — that’s the definition of a neighborhood restaurant. And Fruition, chef-owner Alex Seidel’s homage to indulgently comforting cuisine, merges all of those attributes into nuanced suppers that keep you coming back for more. Reservations are still tough to come by — the books are nearly always filled with regulars — but when the mood strikes and there are seats available, dinner here can become one of those unplanned, wonderful nights out that don’t happen nearly as often as they should.

The Wooden Table opened in 2011 in Greenwood Village, where it was an immediate standout in a suburban mega-wasteland of fast-food joints and chains. But this restaurant would be a standout anywhere. Jane Knauf and chef Brett Shaheen, a former executive chef at Osteria Marco, are the forces behind the elegantly informal, high-decibel, sociable space that’s always buzzing with sophisticated foodophiles, who order off a horizon-enhancing page-turner of a wine list and then dig into beautifully crafted Italian dishes emphasizing house-made pastas, charcuterie and magnificent main dishes, including grilled monkfish floating in a sea-urchin purée. This is the kind of neighborhood restaurant that every neighborhood wishes it had.

When it comes to Italian cuisine, simplicity, craftsmanship and unassailable ingredients are what count — and DiFranco’s, an unassuming, low-key joint that started as an Italian deli, embraces all of those attributes. It serves a lovely selection of house-made pastas, including a terrific tagliolini carbonara specked with pancetta and haloed with a yolky egg, as well as a textbook-perfect Bolognese textured with chewy pappardelle pasta. The subs, stacked on fresh-baked bread layered with fresh mozzarella, super-high-quality Italian meats and vegetables just plucked from the earth, are equally transcendent, and even the salads deserve your attention. And don’t even think about waltzing out the door without trying the meatballs, cannoli or ricotta cookies.

A river of red sauce once ran through northwest Denver, then known as the North Side and an enclave for Italian families that had emigrated to this country decades before. Many opened their own restaurants, specializing in the dishes of their home country — but those are disappearing fast these days. Pagliacci’s closed last summer; Longo’s Subway Tavern is gone; Carbone’s doors are locked. But Patsy’s is still going strong. In fact, this red-sauce joint that opened back in 1921 has returned to a member of the family that founded it, and you can taste that lineage in the city’s best plate of spaghetti and meatball. (Yes, meatball.) The perfectly cooked pasta (gluten-free on request) is made in-house, the thick red sauce that blankets it is pungent with garlic and herbs, and that giant meatball? Fat, meaty and juicy. You’re on a roll, Patsy’s.

Ballsy, brash, bold and flavor-bombed pizzas that rely on ultra-fresh ingredients are the specialties at this duo of Udi’s locations, both of which toss superb pies that render us speechless — at least while our mouths are occupied. The deeply golden, wood-fired crusts, slightly blackened on the edges, are at once springy and crisp, their surfaces smeared with everything from béchamel to balsamic. Classics like pepperoni are folded into the mix, but the real scene-stealers are the pies topped with such ingredients as kale, Brussels sprouts, butternut squash and charred cauliflower. Prosciutto, house-made sausage, fresh herbs and wild mushrooms also make appearances, as do several cheeses, including fresh mozzarella, chèvre and Gouda. These are heavenly pizzas that turn diners into disciples.

If you’re one of those types who search out the latest and greatest and then move on, you might have overlooked Marco’s Coal-Fired Pizzeria, which opened on Larimer Street when this stretch of Larimer wasn’t cool. Even those who do settle into one of the two-tone booths and gape into the fiery mouths of the wood-burning ovens might be swayed by pizzas loaded with artichokes, coppa or Limoncello chicken. But newer and bigger isn’t always better, as the simple Campania shows. Dotted with bufala mozzarella and leaves of fresh basil, this classic Neapolitan pie outshines the competition with its fruity, not overly sweet or spiced sauce, made from San Marzano tomatoes; an impossibly thin crust; chewy, doughy edges; and just enough blackened blisters and charred speckles to add the depth most cheese pizzas lack. Marco’s has a second location in the ‘burbs, but its Larimer location is really the best.

You’ll know you’re in the right place when you see the red, green and yellow stripes of the Ethiopian flag lining the windows of this nondescript storefront. Nile Ethiopian’s dining room may be run down, and service can be slow, but decor and service aren’t the things that families and friends, many speaking African languages, look for here. They come for chicken wot, a thick stew of red peppers, onions and nutmeg with a drumstick and hard-boiled egg; zilzil tibs, chewy strips of sautéed beef; and a vegetarian combo with carrots, potatoes, lentils and the popular berbere-spiced chickpea dish known as shiro wat. Food is served on platter-sized rounds of sour, spongy injera bread, edges folded up like a galette, with more injera on the side so there’s plenty to scoop up the often searing food.

For more than two decades, India’s menu has been making people chuckle with descriptions as ornate as its lantern-bedecked space, which lost none of its luster when it moved across Hampden. Pakora curry, for example, is “spiced to perfection,” and rajma boasts kidney beans in “delectable” gravy. What’s not a laughing matter are metal bowls and plates overflowing with cream sauces and curries so heady with cardamom, cumin and coriander, they deserve every superlative. Make sure to order something from the clay tandoor, a charcoal-fired oven that gives an earthy tinge to meats and roti, and the vaishnav thali, a sampling of vegetarian favorites such as chana masala, saag paneer and almond-flecked korma.

Denver has its fair share of places hawking kabobs and baklava. But no one does the little things as well as Phoenician Kabob. Here the dimple in a side of hummus is filled with chickpeas and olive oil that’s fruity extra-virgin rather than plain. Falafel is shaped into discs, not spheres, ensuring no soggy middles. And the pita, which so many places treat like a starchy fork to scoop up the main course, is good enough to be the main course. Made in-house in a gas-fired brick oven, the bread puffs in seconds, until it’s as chewy yet tender as the edges on a Neapolitan pizza. Speaking of which, if you like white pie, try the zaatar & feta, with a paste of thyme, olive oil and roasted sesame seeds slathered like pesto over a thin round of dough, then topped with tangy feta and baked until the crust browns and air bubbles bulge and pop — a process you can watch through a window into the kitchen.

Table Six is the consummate neighborhood hang, the kind of place where, at least on Sunday, you can wear your mismatched PJs and fit right in with the rest of the smitten disciples — many of them local chefs — who converge in droves for dashing dishes that stretch far beyond pancakes and eggs Benedict. Chef Scott Parker’s eccentric menu is a fanciful blast of morning treats, beginning with the tater tots dipped into blood-orange ketchup and moving on to the “haute pocket” filled with Tasso ham, steak, silky scrambled eggs, grilled onions and cheddar. DJ Ginger Perry keeps things hip with energetic spins, and the intriguing cocktails — stiff and sexy — will make you want to linger long after the 2:30 p.m. closing time.

Red plastic cafeteria trays and vinyl tablecloths in the colors of the Bavarian flag won’t distract from the simple heartland daily specials at Karl’s: golden-fried schnitzel and belly-warming goulash sided with creamy potato salad, wine-braised cabbage and maybe a malty German beer or two. Karl’s will fill you with alpine goodness to brace you against the worst that Denver winters can muster. Choose from a variety of wursts bursting with juices and flavor; on warmer days, Karl’s will build deli sandwiches with familiar Black Forest ham and funkier options like braunschweiger or tongue and blood sausage. No matter what you order for your main course, save room for flaky, butter-rich strudel baked fresh each morning. It’s German: You didn’t come here to mess around with greens and low-fat salad dressing, so leave the guilt at the door and just enjoy getting stuffed.

Classic Francophilia gets a flirtatious modern update at this bewitching, ooh-la-la bistro tucked behind the bustle of Larimer Square. The location is the perfect setting for the inspiring cooking of Dana Rodriguez, a spirited, gifted chef who romances her guests with lovely, unfussy dishes: butter-misted escargot primped with fresh herbs; sublime steak frites; and a phenomenal cassoulet with rabbit sausage, duck leg confit, pork belly, white beans and glossy pearl onions. A fetching wine list, sophisticated cocktails and disarming service that never slacks — not to mention that sensational courtyard patio — just add to the joie de vivre.

You may not even know that metro Denver has a Bolivian restaurant, much less what kind of food you’ll find there. But this tiny restaurant’s name gives away the Bolivian national treasure: empanada-like pockets of beef or chicken stew called salteñas. Soupy and notoriously difficult to eat without spilling, salteñas contain spicy filling studded with olives, potatoes and diced hard-boiled eggs. Poke a hole to let the steam out before nibbling the slightly sweet pastry and downing the rich, warming broth. Other specialties include lomo borracho — a beer-based, chunky beef soup topped with a fried egg — and pique macho, a street-food-lover’s dream dish of tender beef, french fries, hot dog slices and spicy gravy. With only a few seats in the place, takeout is a definite option, but then you’ll miss the owner’s warmth, charm and wistful descriptions of Bolivian culture and cuisine.

The hours — or lack of them — are maddening at Thai Street Food, which, despite whatever the posted schedule may read, is sometimes open when it’s meant to be and sometimes not. In other words, dial the digits first. But once you’ve pushed your way through the front door slapped with signs, glowing reviews, notices of holiday and vacation closures and other paper paraphernalia, a brilliant culinary odyssey through Thailand is your reward. Euphoric curries, lashed with chiles and pungent spices, are mind-altering, while the green-papaya salad, tart with citrus and salty with dried shrimp, is among the best salads in the city. Tom yum, its broth a pitch-perfect balance of hot and sour, swishes with seafood, and the noodle dishes, particularly the noodle jelly salad studded with pork, bright with fresh herbs and flamed with red chiles that make your stomach quake like a coin-operated waterbed, are magical. If only there was a liquor license.

Transparent strip-mall exteriors, bare interiors and stoic service mark most of the area’s Korean restaurants — but not Shin Sa Dong. This swank shrine to Korean grill-your-own barbecue as well as banchan, the miniature bowls of Korean side dishes that include kimchi and jelly noodle salad and all sorts of other curiosities, is modern and elegant, with dark woods, melodic fountains and waterfalls, stone-cemented walls and hardwoods. But swanky aesthetics don’t amount to much — you’re not here to eat the walls of stone — if the food doesn’t follow suit. Luckily, it does. Boiled oxen-head soup; sweet-potato noodles bobbing in a cold beef broth; steak tartare with toasted sesame, Asian pears and pine nuts; Korean sausage soup; bibimbap and bulgogi — those are the real stars of the show, and worth their weight in won.

Super Star Asian nearly doubled in size last year, but securing a table here — especially on the weekends, when hunger-pained customers line up like dominoes to get their dim sum fix — is never easy. An eclectic mix of Asian families, American groups, couples and intrepid stalwarts with massive hangovers scramble for tables in the chaotic crowd of faces, most of which are buried in bamboo steamers filled with everything from divine shrimp-and-chive dumplings to pudgy lotus-leaf wraps. The dim sum dishes are all wheeled around on darting carts, pushed by solicitous servers who aren’t shy about encouraging you to take one of everything. And so you should: Even the chicken feet fly right. Just make sure to hold on to your seat, because the unending stream of cranky customers who want it aren’t afraid to stand at your feet and stare you down.

Some of the best cooking in Denver comes from restaurants that are completely off the grid — those with generic names, facades as forgettable as last night’s one-night stand and featureless dining rooms with clashing color schemes. East Asia Garden is that kind of restaurant. You’ve whizzed by it on Broadway a dozen times, never giving it even a cursory glance. And that’s a mistake, because it turns out the most amazing home-style, traditional Chinese food in the city. Here, among the usual suspects, are dishes like tofu with black eggs, pig’s ears and cucumbers, cross bridge rice noodles (good luck finding those anywhere else in Denver) and Chongqing chicken, which is very much the food equivalent of a firecracker: a shovel of blistered, volatile fried chiles tangled with equal amounts of Sichuan peppercorns and cubes of fried chicken, hot enough to make your mouth numb for days. But the unadventurous have an out: Along with fried pig’s liver, the menu includes benign dumplings.

Fresh, pungent herbs, pronounced spices, big plates and lovely service are the hallmarks of Vietnam Grill, a busy strip-mall scene-stealer on Federal Boulevard that, like its neighboring competition, is all bright lights and no-frills decor. But this isn’t a see-and-be-seen joint: You come here for the dazzling, adventurous food — and you keep returning because the menu is larded with dozens and dozens of dishes that you didn’t get to try the first time, or the second…or the third. Yes, there’s pho — plenty of it — and the broths are refreshingly subtle. But the board extends far beyond the traditional Vietnamese soup: buttered quail with caramelized garlic; rice-flour custard cups crowned with shrimp festooned with coconut flakes and spring onions; frog legs prepared every which way; and a remarkable lamb curry garnished with cilantro and peanuts. In a word: Un-pho-gettable.

Fans of pho will stick up for their favorite joints like a couple of old-timers hashing out the finer points of Ford versus Chevy. When it comes to being the best, though, the tiny details add up to unquestioned excellence. Pho Duy gets those details right: the multi-layered complexity of the long-simmered beef broth, the fresh and artfully sliced rare steak, and the delicate and mild strands of tripe. If the dense fragrance of the spices isn’t enough to end the argument, one spoonful will be. Pho Duy’s noodle soup doesn’t need advocates; it hushes the doubters with the subtlety, balance and integrity that come from years of doing it just so. Stir in your basil, your saw leaf and bean sprouts; add a slice of jalapeño and maybe a squirt of lime. But let the pho speak for itself and you won’t need the sriracha or hoisin. It’s not about the horsepower; this pho is the finely tuned engine of a master builder.

Say Uncle! Tommy Lee, a 32-year-old Denver native of Chinese descent, didn’t have a lot of experience in the restaurant business, but he knew he wanted to open a noodle bar — even though he worried that what he wanted to do was “too obscure.” So he listened to customers’ ideas — even before they were customers. “In the middle of construction, customers would keep stopping by to check out what kind of place was opening,” he recalls. “When I told them a noodle bar, they would ask if I was doing ramen.” He wasn’t planning to, but ramen was on the roster when Uncle opened last August. He was equally attentive to the other dishes on the menu — as well as impeccable service — in his sleek LoHi spot. And the resulting noodle bar has bowled over not just the neighborhood, but the entire city.

Araujo’s, a colorful storefront spot in the Federal Boulevard breakfast-burrito triangle that also includes a Santiago’s and a Jack-n-Grill, opens at 6 a.m. weekdays (7 a.m. Saturday, 8 a.m. Sunday) and starts handing out the city’s best breakfast burritos to go just minutes later. Every day of the week, Araujo’s offers a special breakfast burrito from opening until 11 a.m. for just $1.50: a tortilla packed with scrambled eggs, cubes of potato, bits of green chiles and the chef’s choice of meat (bacon one day, sausage the next), with cheese and green chile filling all the cracks.

From turkey legs to Rocky Mountain oysters, Denver is stacked with snack foods — and those who can’t get enough of them. But the single best way to feed your snack attack is to stuff your gullet with the porkerific Steubie Snacks from Steuben’s and the Steuben’s food truck. Chef Brandon Biederman’s addictive bites of braised pork shoulder are deep-fried until they crackle, then liberally dusted with powdered sugar. The result could be swine crack — Colorado style.