Food & Drink

Day or night, El Tejado attracts the most eclectic crowd around: Denver cops and paramedics grabbing a quick meal, hipsters making their way through buckets of Coronas, Spanish-speaking work crews slurping oysters and big shrimp cocktails. But our go-to order at El Tejado is the breakfast burrito: a big, fat version stuffed full of scrambled eggs, cheese, and the town's best hash browns, all smothered in a great, pork-studded, gravy-like green chile. If you time your visit right, you may find yourself serenaded by a mariachi band.

It's good to be king. It's even better to be at Breakfast King when everyone else is asleep and you're looking for a home away from home, a home where the friendly, wisecracking servers know not just your name, but your regular order. That's likely to be chicken-fried steak smothered in country gravy — the best chicken-fried steak in the city at any time of the day — sided with endless cups of coffee. But the kitchen is cooking up that huge menu at all hours, so you can also get eggs any way imaginable, comfort-food dinners, or just a big slice of pie to soak up some of the coffee. No matter what you order, it will be a feast fit for a king.

People love chicken. People love waffles. Why, then, is chicken and waffles so polarizing, one of those dishes you either love or hate? At Session Kitchen, chef Scott Parker has created a version so good, and yet so different, we can all agree to like it. Called "chicken-liver mousse," his alternative is every bit as rich as the original, yet it comes off much lighter and more contemporary, a perfect fit for the dynamic street art and murals inside the stunning two-level space. Rather than fried chicken, Parker offers a jar of chicken-liver mousse accented with a dollop of seasonal, housemade jam. Sharing the plate are airy, crisp Belgian waffles, scented with orange and made from almond flour. The combination of smooth, earthy mousse, sweet jam and waffle is not a traditional chicken and waffles, but no one's quibbling when it tastes this good.

At a time when nearly anything can be eaten at the bar, it's hard to say just what counts as bar snacks. Is it a small plate of rillette on toast? Wings? Housemade trail mix? Yes to all. But when you want a classic snack, something with crunch and salt to nibble while unwinding from the day over a drink, nothing beats the mariquitas Cubana at Cuba Cuba. With a hint of sweetness and none of the oily residue of freshly fried potato chips, these long, thin strips of fried green plantains are just what you want with your coconut mojito. Although also available at the Sandwicherias in Boulder and Glendale, they're at their best at the flagship, full-service restaurant, where they're paired not just with garlicky mojo, but with mango-habanero mojo and guacamole. The platter is large enough for everyone to have some, but not so big that it will ruin the very good dinner to come.

The best just got better last year, when Boney's Smokehouse — Lamont and Trina Lynch's downtown, down-home restaurant — moved into a bigger space just a few doors away. Tucked in the basement, the new Boney's can be hard to find, but it's definitely worth the search...and some advance planning, since the hours are limited. But there's no limit to the load of barbecue you'll want to order — brisket, chopped chicken, pulled pork, hot links and ribs that have so much flavor from their dry rub and long tenure over low heat that they don't need sauce. Still, you won't want to miss the three versions at Boney's: a tangy basic sauce also offered hot, a sweet jalapeño and an excellent, mustardy gold. And give Boney's extra points for sides ranging from great collard greens and barbecue beans to lip-smacking mac and cheese. 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, this barbecue defies categorization. Just call it the best.

"I think I love you," swooned the woman at the bar, her proclamation intended for the bartender who'd just slid a textbook-perfect Manhattan under her nose. Marcel Templet, the veteran who's been behind the booze at Capital Grille for ten years, is an everyman's bartender, an effortlessly affable guy who's mastered the art of greeting every stain of lipstick and every tint of tie by name while simultaneously commiserating with a just-dumped barfly, announcing game scores, juggling four liquor bottles and reciting the backstory of every spirit he pours. And he does all of it with genuine authenticity and an easy smile. You can teach almost anyone how to make a good cocktail, but it's the personality of the bartender that defines the personality of the bar, and Templet, whose showmanship hits all the right notes, leaves a lovely lasting impression.

Punch Bowl specializes in punches — and activities and games galore — but you'll be bowled over by the Bloody Mary bar offered during the weekend brunches that start at the eye-opening hour of 8 a.m. And you'll need your eyes wide open to take in the incredible array of items that come with this bar: enough veggies and cheeses to make yourself a salad in a glass — topped with bacon, of course. Go ahead and make a pig of yourself; you can dance off your breakfast when the DJ arrives later in the morning.

Your romance started with such promise — perhaps even right next door at Ace. But now all the games are over, and you're ready to break it off for good. There's no better place to deliver the bad news than Steuben's. For starters, the place is always packed and the tables are crowded close together, so your soon-to-be ex might think twice about making a scene. The menu is full of classic versions of comfort food from across the country, so there's sure to be a dish that will offer some solace for each of you. And should things go really badly, the bartenders are not only talented, but friendly; they'll lend both an ear and a hand while mixing a stiff drink to take away some of the sting.

For more than six decades, La Popular has sold the town's best tamales from an old storefront on Lawrence Street. But when we really need to get our engine going in the morning, we'll stop by and bag a breakfast burrito to go. This is not the dainty little foil-wrapped parcel sold at so many other carry-out spots around town, designed to be eaten behind the wheel, but a hefty package that wraps a housemade tortilla around a mound of scrambled eggs, potatoes, green chiles, cheese and (very) spicy chorizo. If you really need a wake-up call, order your $2.75 burrito and get it smothered with green chile for another $1.50. No charge for the authentic atmosphere.

There's nothing like a firehouse to make someone feel safe and secure. But Station 26 — which opened late last year inside a former firehouse — has its own special glow. The space has been renovated with a beautiful wraparound bar, slick lighting fixtures and a large patio out front through a couple of huge garage doors; there's even a preserved fire pole. And since the brewing equipment is located in full view of the tables, customers can watch the process while drinking the beer that results. Located in a mostly residential area between Park Hill and Stapleton, the brewery has a neighborhood feel — but still smokes on busy nights.

Day after day, beer after beer, River North Brewery, which opened a few blocks east of Coors Field in 2012, continues to kill it with its Belgian-styled beer and barrel-aging program. Owned by Matt and Jessica Hess, the brewery serves a regular lineup that includes a Belgian-style wit, a Belgian IPA and a quadrupel — which is a high-alcohol beer that many breweries haven't even attempted, let alone perfected. But the barrel-aging program is what really sets River North apart, producing everything from a quad to a stout, a saison to a golden ale, aged in everything from rum to whiskey to Scotch to wine barrels. We can't wait to see what's on tap this year.

Many Colorado brewpubs — places that make their own beer as well as their own food — have elevated their beers to Rocky Mountain levels over the past few years, and some of them are trying to match those mountains when it comes to their menus. But BRU handbuilt ales & eats has a bit of a head start, since it was created by Ian Clark, a professionally trained chef who happens to love homebrewing as well. His dining room is laid out in a way that highlights both the beer — a fermentation room is front and center — and the food, prepared in an open kitchen complete with a wood-fired oven. And since Clark designed both, he's blended them together for a contemporary brewpub that's a real reason to toast.

First, let us shower accolades on chef Richard Glover's decadent cinnamon-apple French toast: a plate of thick, eggy slices of gold-tinged brioche splayed with caramelized cinnamon-dusted apples, real whipped cream and a fistful of nuts. Then there are the eggs Benedict, mounted with thin, salty sheets of prosciutto topped with a cascading river of cranberry Hollandaise sauce. And a wild-Colorado-mushroom omelette with roasted red peppers and goat cheese. No matter what you order at Fooducopia, an engaging weekday and weekend brunch spot in Washington Park that also doubles as a market emphasizing local ingredients (that's where he gets those apples), you'll marvel and swoon between bites. And now that Fooducopia has a liquor license, mimosas and bloody Marys just add to the welcoming wake-up call.

Esoteric, intriguing and fanciful wines were definitely on Aileen Reilly's mind when she and her chef brother, Paul Reilly, opened Beast + Bottle, a rusticated farmhouse restaurant in Uptown where the alluring atmosphere, food that highlights innovative ingredients and flavor combinations, and a beautifully curated wine roster have made it one of the year's smash successes. The mostly European by-the-bottle tour, smartly categorized by price and wisely composed of wines that you won't see on every other list in town, is bolstered by an equally captivating menu that gives oenophiles nearly twenty by-the-pour choices spanning bubbles, pinks, whites and reds, all of which are available by the glass, pot or litro. And Beast + Bottle servers are all well versed in pointing guests to Aileen's selections, which pair wonderfully with Paul's food.

The battle of the dueling Cebiche restaurants ended last year, with the LoHi location coming out the winner — in more ways than one. This low-key restaurant picks up where El Chalan, the longtime occupant of the space, left off, carrying on the tradition of serving classic, comforting Peruvian dishes. But it's also upped its emphasis on ceviche, offering versions that feature octopus, scallops, shrimp or all of the above, every specimen impeccably fresh. Grab a seat on the patio on a sunny day for a transporting experience.

Black Pearl's kitchen, now in the hands of accomplished chef Samir Mohammad, is better than ever, in part because of its ambitious in-house charcuterie program, which makes use of every scrap, piece and part of whatever beast Mohammad is butchering during his weekly animal breakdown sessions. The incredible selections are dictated only by the size of your appetite, but we highly suggest splurging on the whole board: Alsatian duck sausage; an eye-rollingly sultry duck pâté dusted with duck-fat salt crystals and crushed pink peppercorns; slices of duck prosciutto and duck pastrami; triangles of head cheese; a salty Barolo-cured beef bresaola; and crisp pops of duck chicharrones. All of the meats are served on wooden slabs made from reclaimed wine boxes and embellished with heavenly frills, including a trio of housemade mustards, a mound of spicy giardiniera, baked apple chips and fragments of walnut brittle.

The muscled truckers, old-timers and twenty-somethings who flock to Red Rooster know that this modest cafe has something to crow about: ridiculously cheap steaks. The all-around winner is a cooked-to-temp fourteen-ounce T-bone, roughly the size of a St. Bernard's face, which rings in at $13.95. And that's just the warmup: That plate also includes two eggs; your choice of regular toast, pancakes, a housemade biscuit with gravy or Texas toast; and a freakishly large mound of golden hash browns. A Greek owner cuts the steer in-house, and he clearly believes in super abundance — and super deals.

Although Barolo Grill has always been synonymous with owner and front-of-house face Blair Taylor, even he would admit that the talent behind the sublime food at this elegantly rustic sanctum of northern Italian cuisine is sous-turned-superhero chef Darrel Truett. Despite his low profile, Truett is the high priest of high standards, turning out powerhouse, passionately composed and impeccably prepared dishes, offered à la carte and on an inventive chef's tasting menu ($85). He treats the fastidiously sourced ingredients with the same appreciative respect he does his kitchen staff, and it shows. Savvy Denver diners have always embraced Barolo Grill, and you can taste the mutual crush in every bite of Truett's infallible food.

Matt Selby has always been a brilliant chef, and by chef, we mean a guy whose fervent passion for cooking is all-consuming. He is, first and foremost, a cook, knocking his tattooed knuckles against scalding pots and pans, shrugging at the long-lasting scars. He's happiest on the line, touching ingredients and creating adventurous flavor combinations. After leaving his long-tenured post at Vesta Dipping Grill for an aborted relationship with Corner House, he's now hit his super-hot stride at Central Bistro & Bar, turning out vibrant, bright, top-notch dishes. (His spring lamb with fresh chickpeas and robiola fondue will make you bleat with rhapsody.) Welcome back.

Chef Jennifer Jasinski has had a stellar year, with a starring role on Top Chef Masters and winning a James Beard Award. But long before seats at the chef's counter of the now nearly ten-year-old Rioja became the most coveted spots in town, Jasinski and her staff were ready for prime time, showing their confidence and culinary mastery in front of inquisitive diners eager to witness flames shooting up from burners, steam rising from pasta pots, and the cook-speak banter that enlivens a kitchen. And while Jasinski doesn't spend as much time in her open galley as she used to, space at the counter is still booked days in advance by foodniks eager for an entertaining, and far more intimate, alternative to a traditional table — and a front-row seat at the best show in town.

The good news: Chinese restaurants far outnumber McDonald's in this country. The bad: most of those Chinese joints suck wontons. So discovering a real Chinese kitchen — one that specializes in authentic, intriguing, fearless (and fearsomely hot) dishes — is like unwrapping a fortune cookie with a strip of winning lottery numbers. And with Chef Liu's Chinese Restaurant, you'll hit the jackpot with stunning Szechuan dishes. The Szechuan beef, for example, arrives in a huge basin stained a deep crimson by the oil from too many chiles to count and studded with dozens of peppercorns, enough to numb all moving mouth parts. And yet this soup, bobbing with thin shards of beef and a forest of cilantro leaves, mysteriously releases a magnificent, multi-layered flavor combustion that you feel all the way to your toes. That's just one of the delights at Chef Liu's, where everything from the cumin-crusted lamb to the sesame pockets packaged with chicken and leeks is punctuated by a fortune of bold flavors.

Join the club. For a classic cocktail experience, head to a true classic: The Brown Palace, a hotel that isn't much younger than the concept of the cocktail itself. At Churchill Bar, you can drink in the elegant Victorian ambience while drinking up a perfect Rob Roy, a dry martini or a Manhattan made with one of the bar's long list of small-batch bourbons. To round out the experience, the customized humidor has more than sixty cigars — and Churchill Bar has the license that lets you smoke them on site. Enjoy your cocktail and stogie at the bar, or sit in one of those overstuffed club chairs and experience how the other 1 percent lives.

Stepping into the Weathervane Cafe is like walking into a quiet living room — with a coffee bar in it, and a vintage clothing store operating out of the upstairs bedrooms. The coffee shop is small but charming, with antique knickknacks and paintings placed just so, and what sounds like an AM radio rumbling faintly in the background. On Sundays there are special deliveries of doughnuts from Glazed and Confused, but the rest of the week there's plenty to savor, from vegan scones and made-from-scratch soups to seasonal specialty coffee and tea delights. And if your cup of joe gives you the shopping jones, the Weathervane just welcomed Beehive Vintage — which specializes in men's and women's attire from the '40s, '50s and '60s — into a recently vacated upstairs spot.

What's old is new again at Williams & Graham, the sexy, stylish speakeasy that Todd Colehour and Sean Kenyon opened in late 2011 in a circa-1906 building in LoHi. This was our Best New Bar two years ago, and since then, it's only gotten better — and the lines longer. Step across a threshold concealed by a miniature bookstore and you're in a 1920s-themed world filled with plush leather, dark woods and quirky artifacts from the age of Prohibition. But the best accessory is Kenyon's comprehensive cocktail and spirits list, which includes inventive, contemporary twists on the classics as well as completely new concoctions. Cheers.

Nothing beats a hot crepe slathered in Nutella — unless it's a crepe slathered in Nutella at Devil's Food, the Washington Park eatery that feels like a home away from home. But with graters on the wall and '60s-style appliances in the dining room, the home it feels like is your great-grandmother's, not yours — though your great-grandma never made crepes like these. Chef de cuisine Brian Crow uses the pancake-like shells as symbols of the season. In summer, he fills them with brandied peaches, marcona almonds and white-chocolate sauce. In winter he showcases citrus, bringing a pop of brightness to cold, snowy mornings with blood-orange segments, mascarpone and semi-sweet-chocolate sauce. With only one variety on the breakfast menu, you don't have the choice you'll find at more traditional creperies — but choice is overrated when the crepes are this good.

No matter how you toss it, smear it, top it, slice it or spin it, pizza is like religion: The arguments about which style is the most blessed are a world without end. But when it comes to deep-dish pizza, the gospel of Patxi's rings loud and clear. The San Francisco-rooted piehole palace, which came to Denver in late 2012 and now has three metro locations — in Englewood, Cherry Creek and Uptown — cooks up real deep-dish, Chicago-inspired "stuffed" pizzas topped with everything from spinach to Denver's own Polidori sausage, as well as a generous mantle of whole-milk mozzarella and a second sheet of dough paved with an herb-studded sauce. The hefty, hunky pizzas require a knife, a fork and a pile of napkins, but you'll be singing their praises until your next "I'm a bona fide glutton" confession.

Spuntino has metamorphosed more times than a caterpillar becoming a butterfly. But one aspect of this neighborhood Italian spot, now owned by powerhouse food couple Yasmin Lozada-Hissom and John Broening, has always had its wings: dessert. Lozada-Hissom, a five-time James Beard Foundation Award semi-finalist, guarantees a spectacular end to your meal with sweets inspired as much by Italian classics as by childhood favorites. Gelato, made in-house daily, remains a standby, whether by itself or paired with a "melted" cookie made from Valhrona chocolate. But the more crafted plates really shine, showcasing flavors only someone with her vision could put together in such a harmonious, never ostentatious, way: orange olive-oil torta with fennel, fig and pistachio; chocolate, sea salt and caramel tart with brown butter-bay leaf gelato. And while her desserts are sweet — they are dessert, after all — they're not over the top, so sugar isn't the first and last thing you taste.

Two bucks doesn't buy much these days — maybe half a cupcake or a Hershey bar. But at Denver's Pizzeria Locale, a fast-casual version of the Boulder pizza temple, all it takes is two George Washingtons to end your meal of pizza mais, pork meatballs and arugula salad on a sweet note. The pudding-like budino comes in a plastic cup slightly larger than a shot glass, with a rich butterscotch flavor that's deep, never burnt, and without any trendy bacon bits to sully the pleasure of caramelized sugar. Whipped cream, caramel and chocolate ganache provide the proverbial cherry on top. With pizza prices nearly as low as that of the dessert, you can order budino for everybody. Heck, you could even pay it forward and buy one for everybody in the house and still go home with money to spare.

It doesn't matter what time you show up at Star Kitchen on a Saturday or Sunday, because the clock is always stuck on "full and frenetic." Above the rising decibel of deliberating diners, you're marshaled — and sometimes jostled — to your table by a hurried host or hostess. And then the fun really begins, with effusive cart-pushers pimping baskets of pork shumai, chicken feet, dainty dumplings bursting with shrimp and chives, sweet barbecued pork buns, salt-and-pepper squid and egg-custard tarts. Just when you've stretched your belly to the point of no return, another trolley rolls by, tempting you with one more basket of rice-noodle wraps, a platter of Chinese broccoli, sesame balls. It would be easy to stay here all day — but that would be depriving another party in the impatient crowd of its chance to enjoy this moveable feast.

The building that today houses Gallo di Nero has swallowed up plenty of restaurants, including Fired Up, which suffered an electrical fire last year. But Gallo di Nero rose from the ashes, and at happy hour, this comfortable yet classy restaurant offers a smoking deal: small-plate versions of many of the entrees on its evening menu, most under $10, and many big enough to serve as a meal in themselves. If you want to stuff your face with cheap nachos, this is not the place for you. But we guarantee that after a bargain taste of chef Darren Pusateri's ambitious, inventive Italian offerings, you'll be back for more.

At the break of dawn on the last day of Daylight Savings Time, a hearty crew of regulars gather at the Lakeview Lounge — it opens at 7 a.m. — and toast as the sun rises over Sheridan Boulevard, Sloan's Lake and the Denver skyline. It's a time-honored tradition at a weathered dive that time otherwise forgot. While construction gets under way on the old St. Anthony's project, the Lakeview continues with bar business as usual, serving stiff Bloody Marys early in the morning and mystery shots in brown paper bags late into the night. The bar stools have each worn their own set of holes deep into the linoleum; the water closet is a real hellhole. But no matter how dim the lighting, this is a classic dive where the outlook is always sunny.

A proper dosa — the wafer-thin, honey-hued, crackly crepe made from finely ground rice and black lentils that's a staple in Southern India — overhangs the plate by several inches. At Chai & Chai, an off-the-beaten-path sleeper in Aurora that doles out both Indian and Arabic dishes, the dosa spans two feet, possibly three, for a sight that's almost as impressive as the taste. Roll up the dosa and load it from a bowl of mildly spiced curried potatoes and a trio of chutneys: a red-chile version that breathes fire; a pale, mellow coconut sauce; and a mint chutney that pops with acidity. One dosa easily feeds two — but you may be too selfish to share, particularly since these epic delights are only available Thursday through Sunday.

Good things come in all colors of boxes — not just pink ones with hissing snakes and skeletons — and for proof, look no further than Donut Maker, a family-owned shop in Greenwood Village, where doughnuts are still a breakfast food, not a midnight snack. Owner Maureen Ship keeps up with the competition, offering doughnuts topped with Cocoa Pebbles, Oreos, Nutella and even maple bacon. But the classics are what you crave here: tender, hand-cut raised doughnuts; cake doughnuts dusted while hot with cinnamon and sugar; and the old-fashioned, which relies on very cold water and a longer dunk in slightly cooler oil for its irresistibly crackly nubs. Chocoholics should note that chocolate-cake doughnuts are only made on Fridays, Saturdays and Sundays, the shop's busiest days. But even on busy days, you won't have to queue in the cold; when she's not in the shop, Ship has calls routed to her so that she can text your order to the person at the counter, who will have your doughnuts boxed and ready when you arrive.

Sunday brunch is a relaxed, homey meal, which is why the best brunch spots are usually places you can walk to, kids in the stroller, dogs on a leash. But when you have a hankering for the town's best eggs Benedict, you'll need to jump in the car or hop on a bike, because Comida Cantina in the Source isn't within walking distance of much. Still, these eggs are worth the effort. The kitchen puts its Mexican stamp on the iconic dish, smothering two poached eggs, slices of Tender Belly spiral-cut ham and buttermilk biscuits under a smooth, tart Hollandaise the color of Cheez Whiz, courtesy of the chorizo drippings that lie at the sauce's foundation. Paired with greens tossed with citrus segments to counter all the richness, the plate proves that Comida is about much more than just tacos and tequila.

Ethiopian feasts are social events, a great excuse to corral a large group — friends, lovers, even adversaries — to share all the homey comfort food that's loaded on tables usually too small for all this largesse. At Nile Ethiopian, a moodily lit, spice-scented restaurant with plenty of groups, diners don't waste any time tearing off a piece of floppy injera — the Ethiopian vessel on which everything is served — and scooping up gently spiced lamb tibs, raw minced kitfo tartare and chicken wot, a mellow stew of lemon-smooched chicken, ginger, garlic and red peppers. Your best bet is to go with one (or both) of the combination meat/vegetarian trays, which journey through the exotic Ethiopian culinary lexicon.

Some people were born with a sweet tooth. These are the folks who make their coffee so light and sweet it's ready for the churn and who think fruit is acceptable for dessert only if it's blended with sugar and topped with whipped cream. If this describes you, forget the Frosted Flakes and head to the Universal. Better known for its grits of the day and cornbread rancheros, this popular (read: always crowded) breakfast-and-lunch eatery also delivers a socially acceptable a.m. sugar fix in the form of custard toast. Similar to French toast, the dish soaks an eggy brioche in custard; after a stint on the griddle, it comes out pillowy on the inside and ever-so-crisp on the outside. Topped with apple compote and dusted with powdered sugar, it's as fun to eat as a hot fudge sundae.

Time and again, when we're in search of a restaurant that's simultaneously innovative, enlightening and maddeningly good, we find ourselves at TAG, Troy Guard's high-caliber flagship restaurant in Larimer Square, where the menu is an indulgent poem to all things pleasurable and often very expensive. You can order off the menu (if you do, the miso black cod is a head-turner, as is the kangaroo when it's available), but if you really, really want to prove that your pocketbook is as showy as Guard's cutting-edge cooking, entrust your appetite to his whimsical omakase menu, which is offered in three price ranges: $55, $75, $95 (and upwards if you've got your own bank vault). Advance notice of 24 hours is recommended — and you'll want to reserve seats at the chef's counter to witness all the action — but the gustatory odyssey you'll experience is nothing short of sublime.

Macaroni and cheese, once a comfort-food staple of every Sunday supper (not to mention the elementary-school cafeteria), isn't what it used to be. And thanks to chef Frank Bonanno, who makes no apologies for food steeped in indulgence, the slightly chewy, sauce-soaked elbow macaroni and cheese at Mizuna is definitely not your grandmother's version — unless, that is, your nana favors poached sweet lobster meat in place of Oscar Meyer ham and silky mascarpone over Velveeta. The immodestly rich recipe, which originated with Thomas Keller, is completely hedonistic. Every chef, every cook, every kid and every home-kitchen tongs-twirler has his or her own version of macaroni and cheese, but Bonanno's orchestration, finished with a lusty swirl of lobster oil, is so sensual — so wonderfully immoral — that it makes your heart race just thinking about it.

The giant milk can that houses Little Man Ice Cream has become a landmark in LoHi, attracting long lines of ice cream fans on even the coldest days. But in the warmer months, Little Man now takes it to the streets with Little Man on Wheels, a custom bike cart that peddles a half-dozen of the creamery's most popular flavors — in scoop, cone or sandwich form — on the 16th Street Mall. The cart will even pedal its way to private events. And you never need to feel bad about indulging in this good stuff: Under the Scoop for Scoop program, for every scoop of ice cream purchased, Little Man donates a scoop of rice or beans to a needy community somewhere in the world.

The arepas from the Quiero Arepas food truck (fittingly, the name translates to "I want arepas") are Venezuela's perfect street-food solution: compact and portable, with just the right dose of sloppy fun. Traditional arepas fall somewhere between the pupusa and the gordita on the continuum of stuffed masa pockets: griddled and split disks of tender and fluffy dough with a lightly crisped — but never chewy — outer layer. Quiero turns out a slightly oversized version with a choice of traditional and modernized fillings. The Havana may stray too far from the classic Cuban sandwich for Miami purists, but if you can set aside preconceptions, it's a deeply satisfying combination of roasted pork, ham and Swiss cheese. For a pure Venezuelan fix, the Pabellon includes juicy stewed beef, black beans and fried plantain glued together with a thin layer of mozzarella. With over a dozen combos to choose from, including a few vegetarian and vegan options, you'll be thinking "Yo quiero arepas" long after the last bite is gone.

Another round of applause for Jonesy's EatBar, please. The fresh-cut fries that have won so many fans at Jonesy's are thinner than your little finger, deep-fried to the perfect combo of soft-yet-crisp. They're addictive on their own, but sinfully good when swathed with one of the smart topping choices, including Thai ginger and Buffalo options, green chile, and bacon and cheese. The cozy neighborhood hangout bills its fries as "world-famous," and unlike most bar brags, this one's absolutely accurate. As the accolades keep coming in, give Jonesy's a hand — and order another round of fries. (They're thoughtfully available in double orders.)

From the shabby-chic decor to the peeling couture posters on the outer brick wall, Z Cuisine captures the ambience of another time and place. Despite its location in uber-hip LoHi, Z maintains a low-key charm and old-world pace, even when packed to the rafters. This could be because owner Patrick DuPays places as much emphasis on his bar program as on his seasonal menu of traditional French cuisine shot through with playful modern touches. An absinthe-based cocktail whets the appetite for buttery Hudson Valley foie gras, a can't-miss favorite to linger over while deciphering the curly handwriting on the specials board. Standards like the salade gourmande — layered with various pork and duck tidbits — may appeal more to the offal lover than to the dieting nibbler, while hearty peasant dishes like cassoulet with duck confit and housemade andouille satisfy the soul as well as the appetite. DuPays's neighborhood masterpiece perfectly accentuates the subtle commonalities between the Denver and Parisian lifestyles: quality without pretension, gracious service that never approaches stuffiness, and a gusto for life that embraces new experiences and familiar treasures.

There are some who insist that fried chicken is best when eaten out of a bucket while picnicking in the park. But our bucket list takes another approach: We park our butts at Lucky Pie, order a beer from the wicked-good tap selection, and thank the poultry gods for blessing us with such a soul-satisfying bird. True, Lucky Pie is best known for its pizzas — and they're excellent — but the fried chicken is clucking awesome. Chef Joe Troupe dry-rubs the birds with garlic, smoked paprika, cayenne, salt, pepper and a smidge of sugar, submerges their body parts in buttermilk and then drags the flesh through seasoned flour before plunging it into the fryer. The payoff is incredible fried chicken, the tender meat cloaked in a bronzed crust that adheres flawlessly to the flesh, leaving nothing on the plate — and everything in your mouth.

At this lovely restaurant, chef Brett Shaheen turns out Italian-inspired dishes that deserve standing ovations (his pappardelle with venison and chicken-liver mousse is remarkable), and he'll bring your clapping to a roar with his crimson-hued lamb chops plated with a mushroom turnover. But it's the effervescent presence of front-of-the-house veteran and general manager Gary Keller that resonates throughout the lively dining room. Keller — whose combined decades of running the floor at Panzano, Palace Arms, and the shuttered Cafe Giovanni, Cliff Young's and Highland's Garden Cafe have made him the city's most consummate professional and committed caretaker — graciously touches every table, educating guests about his new stunner of a wine list, cheeses from around the globe and the anatomy of Shaheen's plates. He makes every guest feel like royalty, but there's no pretense to his performance — just effortless smiles and big-hearted hugs or handshakes that make you feel like you're the star of the show. Well played, sir.

To true custard lovers, ice cream always seems like a poor relation, doing its best to keep up appearances. The stuff lacks the creaminess, the rich texture, the sheer yolkiness of a good custard. And the custard churned out by Cloud 9 is the real deal, offered in just two flavors — vanilla and chocolate. If you must have frou-frou, Cloud 9 also offers a variety of candy and fruit toppings, as well as shakes and sundaes. Just don't ask for Rocky Road; this is serious dessert.

Once upon a time in Poland, there was a man named Lester and a woman named Maria. They fell in love, married and frequented a hotel in Krakow called Cracovia. And then, a move across the world and a quarter-century later — the fall of 2008, to be exact — Lester and Mari Rodzen opened a restaurant in Westminster, a fine-dining Polish restaurant that reminded them of their time in Krakow. They named it Cracovia, and filled the menu with authentic dishes with names like vicious tongue-twisters, all cooked by Maria with lots of love. This is a real hidden gem — although "hidden" doesn't begin to describe Cracovia's location; "buried" is more like it. But for a true taste of Eastern European cuisine, Cracovia is worth the search.

In 2008, Panzano chef Elise Wiggins discovered that she was wheat-intolerant, a diagnosis that could have caused her kitchen career to stagnate. But Wiggins, one of Denver's most innovative and progressive chefs, embraced the challenge, altering her diet, experimenting with gluten-free recipes and slowly integrating no-wheat dishes into her menu while educating her kitchen crew and service staff along the way. Today Panzano has four gluten-free menus — breakfast, brunch, lunch and dinner — and no matter which board you pull from, you'll find plenty of hits, including Wiggins's gluten-free flatbread, buns, muffins, pizza crust and focaccia. Still, the star of her gluten-free lineup is the fried Brussels sprouts, the crisped leaves and heads bathed in an apple-cider reduction and sprinkled with pistachios and matchsticks of Granny Smith apples. If there's a goddess of gluten-free, it's definitely Wiggins.

"Then all day long until sunset we sat dining on a bounty of meat and fine wine, and then we went to sleep on the beach." That quote from the Odyssey tops the web page of Axios Estiatorio, and you might be tempted to take a nice, long nap after a meal here, too. There's more to Greek dining than gyros, and veteran restaurateur Telly Topakas decided it was time to give Denver a more upscale Greek restaurant when he opened Axios three years ago. Much of the food is based on family recipes of classic dishes; there's an impressive list of Greek wines to pair with them. But Axios does more than celebrate Greek cuisine: It also celebrates Greek culture, in a space as seductive as those sirens that almost ruined Odysseus.

"For truly amazing flavors, El Taco de México is a must," wrote Bizarre Foods' Andrew Zimmern, shortly after he and his film crew touched down in the Mile High City. El Taco de México is "Denver's quintessential taqueria," he said, pronouncing that it serves the "best menudo and tacos in the city." And after decades of plopping our butts on the canary-yellow stools overlooking the kitchen, we're not going to disagree. But he missed our favorite dish here: The superlative — and spicy — green chile continues to outshine all the competition. The stoic women who spoon it over everything from burritos to eggs never crack a smile — but we do after taking just one bite of the incredibly flavorful, peppery brew. No matter where you're coming from, you'll find a home at El Taco de México.

Burgers are like pizza: Everyone has a favorite style. Some people go old-style, with beef, lettuce, tomato and mayo. Others veer toward the more-is-better camp, with truffles, pork belly and crispy chicken skin. Humboldt's burger falls in between — not too simple, but not over the top...and all good. Made with grass-fed Colorado beef, the patty is studded with bacon so that you get bacon in every bite, a good alternative to those messy bacon strips that slide around and slip out of a bun. Topped with Tillamook cheddar and onion jam, and sandwiched between puffs of buttery brioche, the burger is smoky, sweet and satisfying, making it a great non-fishy choice at this seafood-savvy restaurant.

Bartenders in Denver are hauling out special ice machines and hand-carving ice cubes to keep their fancy concoctions cold. Lucky, then, that Crave likes to warm things up. In addition to a board of traditional cocktails with a few twists, Crave offers a selection of steaming hot hooch to go with the sweet stuff being made in the kitchen. A Toasty Apple Cider with Myers's Dark Rum and housemade spiced cider seems almost wholesome, while the Irish coffee with locally roasted Method drip java and a dusting of freshly grated nutmeg may be the best in the city. Crave makes getting buzzed on caffeine and liquored up at the same time seem downright classy.

In 2005, a former repo man plunked down a hot-dog cart on the 16th Street Mall, an area that had seen plenty of hot-dog carts before. But its owner, Jim Pittenger, definitely wasn't a typical wiener-slinger, and these weren't typical wieners. Biker Jim, as he's now known locally and nationally — thanks to all those Food Network shows on which he's appeared — was doing something outlandishly different: He was vending wild-game sausages (wild boar, rattlesnake, elk and reindeer), and if that wasn't enough to raise eyebrows, he was also festooning his franks with onions marinated in coke and cream cheese that he shot out of a caulking gun. Pittenger is that guy who teaches old dogs new tricks, and now that you can enjoy his gourmet tube steaks in a brick-and-mortar location, you'll often find us scratching at the door.

All those Americans who say that vanilla is their favorite flavor clearly haven't licked a cone from Sweet Action Ice Cream. This shop continues to impress us with its ever-changing roster of vegan and non-vegan offerings, which are inventive but not so over the top that they seem like concoctions devised by cooking-show contestants looking to one-up each other. Here, flavors range from hazelnut brownie and lemon ricotta to almond cardamom and the ever-popular salted butterscotch, all but guaranteeing you'll go through several plastic tasting spoons (patiently handed out by friendly staff) before deciding what you want. Even if you're not a vegan, make sure to sample the non-dairy ice creams; made with soy and coconut milk, they're just as smooth and tempting as the other picks. As if it weren't hard enough to decide what scoop/s you want, the oversized ice cream sandwiches in the freezer complicate matters further. Our favorite: vegan peanut-butter cookies stuffed with vegan chocolate ice cream.

Most of us think of ice as, well, ice, but if you're a bartender — especially a drink-slinger who belongs to the professorial cocktail brotherhood — ice is the most crucial part of a drink, if for no other reason than it comprises most of what's in your cocktail. The bartenders at Session Kitchen understand the physics of ice, and to prove it, they invested in the Rolls Royce of icemakers: a Clinebell, which makes 300-pound blocks of translucent, crystalline, pure ice, which they then sculpt into various shapes (spears, for example) to use in assorted cocktails. But what really separates Session Kitchen's ice program from other contenders is the seasonal ice cubes that change on a whim and have included blood orange, ginger beer and pressed apple. Drop one of those spherical cubes into a glass of whiskey, and every sip you take tastes completely different from the last because of the way the ice melts. Unorthodox? Probably. Clever? Definitely.

The best time to visit Khazana is not for lunch, when the buffet at this off-the-eaten-path Lone Tree Indian restaurant looks all too familiar. But if you come for dinner, you'll find delicate, bronze-tinged dosas paved with a beguiling mix of curried potatoes and onions; Indo-Chinese dishes like cauliflower slicked with infernal chiles; intensely spiced curries served in shiny, V-shaped copper vessels; and Indian street-style chicken with scrambled eggs, tomatoes and boom-boom spices — tastes that manage to be both refined and bracing. The animated menu phrases that accompany the dishes — "Are you crazy??? Every Table's got to have one," exclaims the ode to the chicken-wing lollipops — might seem like overkill, except that every single dish here is absolutely killer.

As chef-restaurateur Frank Bonanno's dominance over Denver's dining scene continues to grow — he's got a sultry cocktail bar, nine restaurants and another one on the way — Luca D'Italia, his captivating Italian standout, continues to be a showplace of imagination and excellence. From the charismatic and doting servers to the perfectly composed, house-cured salumi plates; from the inviting dining room with its soft lighting to the sigh-inducing housemade pastas, pig-tastic porchetta and luscious desserts; from the innovative cocktails and richly expansive wine list to the two tasting menus, both worth the splurge — a meal here will make you feel like you've hit the SuperEnalotto. We're lucky to have Luca.

Years ago, eating raw fish in this country seemed like something you'd do to haze the unsuspecting sorority girl from Iowa who'd never traveled beyond the cornfield. Now sushi-centric restaurants dot every curb and corner, but the best Japanese restaurants go way beyond the raw and the rolled. And Sushi Sasa chef/owner Wayne Conwell and his crew have all the right moves with which to capture the glory of Japanese cooking. While the sushi is unassailable, the menu reels you in with striking salads composed of sesame-salt-studded, pan-fried baby spinach slicked in a blue-cheese tofu dressing; pork belly porridge paired with Tokyo turnips; deep-fried Japanese beef skewers; an orgy of ramen bowls; and fragrant Japanese curries. And if you really want a climactic experience, the oysters dabbed with foie gras are the epitome of sexual healing.

Denver may not have an official Koreatown, but it has a large Korean population — and an impressive number of places where you can sample cabbage kimchi, zucchini-studded pancakes and sizzling bibimbap. Most of the metro area's Korean restaurants are in Aurora, but when we're jonesing for a fix, we head to Arvada's Dae Gee. The name translates to "pig out," and that's precisely what you'll do as you dive into unlimited cook-your-own barbecue, dropping meats into the hot skillets that center the tables, then pulling out the caramelized flesh and lubricating it with hot chile sauce squeezed from a squirt bottle, then wrapping the meat with other condiments in leafy lettuce wraps. As at most Korean restaurants, a parade of banchan — small bowls of sides — precedes the meal, and truth be told, they're a meal in themselves.

The guy at the bar, a local chef, admits he's on the wagon, but he's definitely not on a diet: "This is the third time in a week that I've had the pork burger here; it's bomb!" he gushes. That pig-intensive burger — and yes, it's "bomb" — is part of the stellar happy-hour lineup at Old Major, the hip Highland restaurant whose bar turns into happy-hour central every day between 3 and 6 p.m., giving revelers a solid three hours to eat, drink and be merry. A fistful of cocktails — really good cocktails — are priced at $5; Infinite Monkey Theorem wines by the glass are a mere $6; and all draft beers, including a farmhouse ale and a sour, are $2 off the regular pour price. But chef Justin Brunson and his crew know that even lushes require comestibles, so they created a wonderful lineup of seasonally appropriate edibles: steamed mussels bobbing in a pool of Thai-inspired green curry; pork-fat French fries; a housemade charcuterie plate; that pork burger crowned with a fried egg; and pastry chef Nadine Donovan's unassailable pretzel rolls paired with flavored butter. Hungry yet?

If you're looking for a quiet place for a nightcap and a quick bite, Opal is not for you. By midnight, this place is likely to be hopping with club kids, night owls and the hungry hordes who realized that they forgot to eat dinner hours earlier. But between 10:30 p.m. and 1:30 a.m., during Opal's late-night happy hour, they can enjoy the same happy-hour deal offered every day from 4:30 to 7:30 p.m.: two-for-one sushi, hand rolls and hot sake, as well as $2.50 22-ounce bottles of Kirin and $4 premium martinis. The $1.50 Corona deal offered during the afternoon doesn't hold at night, but the bargain oysters could help ensure that the night concludes with a very happy ending.

It sounds easy: Throw cooked elbow noodles into a pot with sharp cheddar, peas, smoked ham hock, bacon, breadcrumbs and a few carefully selected spices, and — voilà! — the perfect mac and cheese. But if it were that easy, then everyone would be copying Hops & Pie, whose owners, Drew and Leah Watson, have taken one of the simplest comfort foods and turned it into a dish that you'll crave enough to order alongside your pizza and beer.

Although Damascus Grill has been in its Littleton location for a decade, the depth of its menu has not changed in that time. Too many Middle Eastern restaurants are content to serve a greatest-hits menu of hummus, falafel and kabobs. But this institution pushes past popularity to reveal a deeper, more authentic roster, with dishes including okra stew with lamb, tomato and pomegranate sauce; lamb baked with tomatoes, dried lemon and seven spices; and vegetarian offerings such as mujadara (cracked wheat with lentils) and hummus mutabbal with whole, not puréed, chickpeas. Breads are made in-house, and you can branch out from pita with the mana-ish, a cheeseless Mediterranean pizza topped with sesame seeds and spices. Don't miss the baba ghanouj, a smoky roasted-eggplant dip with walnuts and pomegranate sauce mixed in with the standard sesame sauce, garlic and lemon — it deserves a best in show.

Longtime favorite Tacos Jalisco serves pure Colorado Mexican, with a little Tex-Mex, a little norteño, some influences from Michoacán and a lot of big burritos. But our favorite order here is the nachos. The kitchen takes a bed of freshly fried corn chips and tops it with hefty portions of typical nacho accoutrements: refried beans, orange cheddar, pico de gallo, guacamole and plenty of pickled jalapeños. But what makes this platter a standout is the unusually high quality of said accoutrements. Add some meat and a side of the restaurant's thick pork green chile, which smacks the dish with heat, and you've got the most macho nachos in the city.

There are plenty of high-end cocktail caves tucked into Denver's trendiest 'hoods, but Ste. Ellie, an intriguing fifty-seat boutique and small-plates retreat in the underbelly of Colt & Gray, rises above the rest. Although the black-and-white color palette, moody lighting, modular chairs and crescent-shaped booths are ambience-rich and obligingly swank, owner Nelson Perkins and head barman Kevin Burke have smartly assembled a behind-the-bar cast that harbors none of the snoot that too often plagues cocktail bars whose aesthetics are 100-proof highbrow. Fifteen cocktails — a fair split between classic and current, all impeccably accomplished — are augmented by a "based-on-your-preferences" bartender's choice, potent punch for a crowd, and a well-curated selection of wines, champagne and beer. There's no shortage of food cred here, either: Try the clams and octopus with viande 'nduja, an Italian pork sausage, or the duck-confit poutine.

Sanitas Brewing opened last summer in a Boulder business park. But behind that nondescript exterior lies a cool, rustic interior that opens onto one of the most welcoming backyard-style patios in all of brewerydom. Beer drinkers can sit at benches and enjoy a view of the Foothills (and the brewery's namesake, Mount Sanitas) on a gorgeous Colorado day or play a few rousing games of bocce ball or cornhole on a court that overlooks a greenway and train tracks. And when that thirst hits — and it will — they can order a beer through the window of the indoor-outdoor bar. Perfect.

Yes, Epic Brewing got its start in Utah, but when the owners decided to open a new production facility outside of that state (in order to avoid the frustrating Utah liquor laws), they wisely chose Colorado, investing a couple million dollars into their soaring new brewery and tap room in River North. And they did it right, loading the huge space with a long bar, enormous windows, community tables, a view of the brewing process, stunning decor, a fireplace, and dozens of different beers on tap. The brewery, which has long hours and frequent food-truck visits, has quickly become an anchor in a brewery-filled neighborhood.

Remember when people used to plunk down in tattered couches and armchairs, java in hand, to read the paper or chat the morning away? That's so yesterday. With its sleek community table, vases of lilies and black-and-white decor that could fill a page from a design catalogue, Steam Espresso Bar epitomizes the coffeehouse of today. Whether you want a macchiato with foam in the shape of a heart or a lab-like pour-over with ethically sourced beans, coffee here is meant to be savored, not mindlessly sipped. During the week, this is a quiet place to talk business or catch up on a project; unlike some coffee shops, Steam still offers wi-fi. On weekends, you'll find people chatting, sharing macarons and standing in line (coffee this good doesn't come fast). What they're not doing, however, is chasing kids: This environment is decidedly too chic for that.

Most chefs, at least the sensible ones, don't open restaurants on dozing neighborhood streets where there's minimal traffic — of both the car and foot variety. But Peter Ryan, chef-owner of the Plimoth, has never been a conformist. He filled the unassuming, dimly lit space with reclaimed wooden tables and unobtrusive green-and-black Parisian wallpaper, which provides a casually elegant backdrop for the remarkably talented kitchen crew. Many of them, Ryan included, did time in the galley of Z Cuisine, and they deliver honest European dishes with a thick French accent to smitten diners who swoon at every spoonful of winter green bisque, bite of braised lamb shank, smear of pâté and forkful of gloriously good chicken. The Plimoth has all the makings of a landmark, a place that treats diners from all over Denver to the warmth and charm of a true neighborhood restaurant.

In a year that saw hundreds of openings, Denver's restaurant scene at times felt like short-track speed skating. But even with so many strong contenders, only one could take home the gold, and Lower48 Kitchen crossed the line first in the areas that matter most: service, creativity, plating, decor and, of course, food that you can't stop thinking about. Launched by a team of Frasca Food and Wine alums, with Mario Nocifera ensuring a gracious night on the town and Alex Figura acting as kitchen wizard-in-chief, Lower48 has turned a forgotten corner of the Ballpark neighborhood into a dining destination. Nowhere does Figura's creativity shine more than in the small bites, listed under the heading of "each": perhaps a melted Gruyère crisp slicked with sunflower-seed butter, feta and greens; a stack of dried celery root and house-smoked cheese; or a beignet filled with whipped tarragon. These tongue-ticklers are best combined en masse as an appetizer, then rounded out with one or two artistic small plates, such as charred octopus with lamb bacon or a stack of mushroom crepes. While the space is large enough to accommodate groups, with a private dining area behind a rolling door fashioned from a shipping container and a separate lounge called Service Bar, it's just as fun to come with a friend and sit at the chef's counter to watch the magic unfold.

Even before Coors Field opened in 1995, what would become the Ballpark neighborhood — and was then known as NoDough — had a lot of promise. Over the past year, that promise was finally realized, with all those turn-of-the-last-century warehouses now filled to bursting with residences and offices, and the Victorian storefronts housing excellent restaurants and innovative businesses. And the last few months have seen new buildings opening, too, housing cutting-edge enterprises and eateries — including Denver's Best New Restaurant. As a restaurant neighborhood, Ballpark hits it out of the park.

Acorn, the second restaurant opened by Bryan Dayton and Steve Redzikowski, had a lot to live up to, considering it sprang from the mighty Oak at Fourteenth, their nationally recognized flagship in Boulder. And it wasted no time in doing so, appealing not just to Oak regulars who made the drive down U.S. 36, but also crowds of stylish American-food seekers flocking to the Source, which opened last summer on Brighton Boulevard. With just enough overlap between menus that the family line is never in doubt — recognize that kale salad, those fried pickles and braised meatballs? — Acorn has developed its own identity, focusing more on cocktails and approachable yet thoughtful small plates. The beauty of this approach is that rather than committing to one starter and an entree, diners can nibble their way around the globe, trying everything from lamb shawarma to squid-ink tagliarini and oak-smoked duck breast.

Eating paleo means more than just scarfing down meat. A commitment to an ancestral lifestyle includes outdoor activity, a sense of play, and eating the whole, natural foods available to our hunter-gatherer forebears. There's no room in the diet for grains, especially wheat, which plays well at places that are sensitive to gluten intolerance. The kitchen at Shine Restaurant is entirely gluten-free, but that doesn't mean its dishes are free of flavor. The finest example of this is a brunch option of a moist, lightly smoked trout filet atop mashed and crisped sweet potatoes with a side of citrus-drenched chard, all drizzled with an avocado Hollandaise. Packed with bold flavors from the earthy greens, tangy sauce and succulent fish, this is not typical diet food; instead, it presents richness and variety with love and flair. For those who may want to stray from the strictest interpretations of paleo, Shine also features a nano-brewery that turns out a successful, hop-forward gluten-free ale.

For most people, it's the last bite that leaves the most memorable impression — and at Old Major, that's certain to mean a happy ending: a sugar rush from a small taste of Verona chocolate, a vanilla-poached pear, a spoonful of figgy pudding, a slice of a nectarine tart, a two-bite lemongrass macaron. Nadine Donovan, the pastry chef at Old Major, creates utterly preposterous strokes of genius that make those Food Network blowhards look like rank amateurs. Donovan's desserts — whether faultless French macarons, maple-bacon custard with candied bacon and bourbon-soaked caramel corn, or crazy-good fried apple pie with sour-cream ice cream and crumbles of salted toffee — are a sugar-stalker's delight. Precede any of her confection sensations with chef Justin Brunson's braised octopus or charcuterie plate — all of it cured in-house — and you have the makings of a completely unforgettable evening that ends on a real high.

In the realm of desserts, pie is about as humble as it gets. There are no towers made of pie, like bakers craft out of macarons, none of those shocking flavor combinations — wasabi, curry — that come scooped on a cone. So it's not surprising that the best pie in town comes not from a high-end bakery hawking elaborate delicacies, but from bang!, a homey restaurant that's been churning out plates of fried chicken, meatloaf and mashed potatoes for more than seventeen years. The coconut cream pie is filled with as much down-home goodness as the entrees, with a hand-crimped crust and a thick layer of custard amped up with shredded coconut for a more intense flavor. Topped with whipped cream and sprinkled with toasted coconut, the pie deserves the spotlight that's long been given to the gingerbread, another of co-owner Cissy Olderman's creations.

Clay Carlton is on a roll. The Denver native, who opened his first barber shop in Winter Park 38 years ago, today is a master cigar-roller (he studied under a Cuban master for six months) and proprietor not just of Palma Cigars, but of Bar Las Palmas Wine Bar, offering cigars, coffee, wine, haircuts and lots of character to the Ballpark neighborhood. In order to attract more customers of the female persuasion, Carlton has cut back on the hair-cutting — there's just one barber chair now, in the back — and expanded his roster of Colorado wines. But the real draw remains the cigars, with a walk-in humidor filled with hard-to-find, reasonably priced stogies from the Dominican Republic, Honduras and Nicaragua.

Denver native Montgomery Knott spent many years in New York perfecting the Monkey Town experience, during which guests dined on fine food and paired wines inside a video-installation cube. Now he's back in his home town, testing a touring version of his visual/gastronomic spectacle in a RiNo warehouse for a three-month run that ends June 1 before he takes off for similar short-term spells in other cities. Turns out we're very lucky guinea pigs: Monkey Town 4 is a vivid evening of impeccably conceived and prepared dishes from trendy local chefs paired with perfect wines, while fascinating sounds and visuals unfold all around you. The people-watching is fantastic (and unavoidable, since you're all sitting around the perimeter of the cube), and for added experimentation, there's the option of a weed-stuffed appetizer that's not advertised on the menu.

Nectar House, a sly little restaurant nestled inside Kindness Yoga, is an organic nosher's paradise that features a simple menu of enticing superfood salads, smoothies and creamy desserts. The "Rawben" Sandwich — a very loose take on a Reuben — is the signature entree, piling avocado, sauerkraut, Thousand Island dressing and more on raw onion bread. But the spot's selection of non-alcoholic, handcrafted elixirs are the real draw; popular items include the "Shaktini," an effervescent herbal refreshment, and kombucha infused with a choice of energetic tonics and highlighted by the flavors of goji berries and fresh-squeezed juice. After yoga class, seat yourself at the cafe's bar or sneak off to the "nook," a pillow-laden hideaway, to enjoy a one-of-a-kind beverage or some veggie-friendly, feel-good food.

Although it's all too easy to spend a fortune on good food, you don't have to at twelve. Chef-owner Jeff Osaka's Monday-through-Wednesday prix fixe menu, which changes monthly, is the bargain board to beat. Osaka, who's renowned as the benevolent Denver chef-ambassador who just keeps on giving, fully extends that generosity to his guests, presenting them with the unusual luxury of choosing any starter, main dish and dessert from his full menu, all for the price of just $38 per person. On the March menu, for example, you could choose gnocchi with wild mushrooms, puffed rice, smoked egg and Parmesan to start, followed by steelhead trout with guanciale and mustard caviar, and to finish, a trio of chocolate desserts. But no matter what you order, every dish at twelve unleashes countless captivating flavors.

Raw bars are washing up all over Denver these days, and while there's no oceanic panorama beyond the toe-to-top windows that rim the perimeter of the Kitchen Denver, a splendid sea of brawny bivalves, Littleneck clams, lobster, Alaskan king crab legs, caviar and smoked mussels glistens behind the glass barrier that shields this raw bar. The oysters, of which there are several varieties, are the dominant mothershuckers of the lineup, and while we prefer them naked, they arrive with lemon wedges, mignonette, cocktail sauce and aioli. Gorgeously presented seafood towers — the largest of which showcases a whole Maine lobster, a dozen oysters, a half-dozen clams, king crab legs and eighteen mussels — showboat specimens from Maine-based diver Ingrid Bengis, who's renowned for netting seafood that seriously tastes like swigs of the ocean. As a bonus, this raw bar also peddles pickled sardines.

While green chile is an obsession in this town, red chile has its pleasures, too, and there's no red chile more pleasant than the version that La Fiesta has been dishing out for five decades. This red chile has a fire all its own, a complex layering of flavors that speaks of much more than mere chile powder. But, of course, you're not going to eat it on its own. You're going to order it smothering an enchilada filled with gooey, "premium" yellow cheese or drowning the best crispy chile relleno in town. La Fiesta will mark its fiftieth birthday this year; here's to many more...and lots more red chile.

Angelo's, which got new owners and a complete renovation in 2013, may have changed from a pizza joint to a Taverna, adding a swanky oyster bar in the process and many more new menu items, but it still occupies the same spot where Angelo's has been for forty years, in the same neighborhood, with the same distinctive stained-glass windows. And in addition to those oysters — offered fresh and grilled, with some amazing toppings — it still slings pizza, ravioli, lasagna, spaghetti and meatballs and other comforting, traditional Italian dishes, which is saying something in a town that has been losing its red-sauce joints at an alarming clip over the past few years. Twirl your fork through some pasta and marinara and enjoy a little Denver history.

Over the past few years, Denver International Airport has worked hard to make sure that travelers can get a true taste of the city. And their efforts paid off last year when several excellent hometown restaurants opened at DIA. The best of them? Root Down, which not only offers many of the "field-to-fork" menu items that made Justin Cucci's original eatery in LoHi such a hit — including great veggie and lamb burgers — but decor flavored with the same wry, international eye. Don't miss the vintage carry-on cases — packed with accessories from the era — under the glass-topped bar, the collection of globes, and the thoughtful seating for solo diners: little cubbies looking out over the big windows. DIA's Root Down is a soaring achievement.

Falling Rock Tap House is decorated with hundreds of beer bottles — but that's not even the most impressive part of its glassware. For years, this craft-beer bucket-list spot has boasted a bottle list that includes rare Belgian specialties, ever-rarer craft-beer delights, and bottles that you can't get anywhere else in Colorado, like the ones that owner Chris Black brewed in conjunction with various breweries in other states. You can also try several vintages of some beers to sample how beer changes as it ages. Pop your top at Falling Rock.

And in this corner, and still the heavyweight champion of Colorado...Falling Rock Tap House! Craft-beer bars have proliferated over the past five years, popping up everywhere from Colorado Springs to Boulder to Fort Collins, but Falling Rock remains the king, both in terms of numbers — more than eighty taps — and variety of craft beers available. You'll find the best, the rarest, the oldest, the newest — but no crap on tap — at Falling Rock.

From the outside, the Black Crown looks like a ridiculously adorable home, and the inside is jaw-droppingly opulent, with extravagant chandeliers, stately sofas draped with shawls and enough antiques to outfit an antique store. There are two smashing outdoor patios — the one in back is ideal for canoodling — as well as a bona fide piano bar that features everything from sexy burlesque and cabaret to solo artists belting out show tunes and standards. The fetching cocktail list is geared toward refined boozing, and the witty, locally driven menu anticipates every imaginable food mood, with truffled pâté, beef Wellington, honey-smoked salmon mousse or a simple cheese plate. The Black Crown rules Broadway with that increasingly rare combination of polished and playful.

Amid the tattoo parlors, fluorescent-lit liquor stores and celestial shops that promise to predict your future squats Solera, chef-owner Goose Sorensen's longstanding — and beautifully mature — restaurant. A jovial bar occupies one side of the space, providing a gathering place for spirit disciples to sip bartender superhero Matty Durgin's updated cocktails and oenophiles to explore the world-spanning wine syllabus — a list that's both familiar and whimsically eclectic. The other side is a romantically rustic dining room full of dark woods and pops of color against the white linens, where gracious servers deliver such delicious dishes as paella assembled with plump clams, fleshy mussels, slices of Spanish chorizo and saffron-scented rice. Or share that paella on the patio, an enchanting sanctuary inspired by picture-postcard-perfect courtyards along the Mediterranean that will transport you far from Colfax.

There's no shortage of Mexican restaurants on Federal Boulevard, but Tarasco's is something special. While the tiny corner joint may not have all the frills of fine dining, the service is as warm and accommodating as at any starred restaurant in town. And every dish on the menu shines, no matter how simple the preparation. Grilled nopales (cactus paddles) come on a wooden board with a thin but tongue-blistering sauce. A humble vegetarian corn tamal rises to the level of haute cuisine with nothing more than a drizzle of Mexican crema and a hint of salsa verde. A seven-chile mole cloaks tender chicken or pork with richness and complexity while avoiding cloying sweetness. Tarasco's also cooks up an equally delicious but slightly tangier green mole and a rare yellow mole; go with friends to try them all. And despite the lack of a liquor license, beverages are well covered by a roster of fruit and vegetable juices and smoothies.

When your city is one of the sunniest in the country, it's no wonder that restaurant patios are filled with diners soaking up the rays — even in the doldrums of winter. For a real oasis of outdoor tranquility, stop by Sassafras, a lovingly restored, porch-wrapped Victorian that offers breakfast and lunch daily. The stone-cobbled courtyard is filled with mature trees that sway with the breeze, pots of all sizes planted with rainbow-hued blooms, and shade-yielding umbrellas over tables and rustic wooden benches. It's an idyllic setting for feasting on the kitchen's delicious Southern-style dishes, which taste even better with the sun on your shoulders.

The most notable wine lists are crafted by serious grape geeks who determinedly seek diversity, deftly compiling syllabi that feature both esoteric and safe choices and offer value in every price range. When Bob Blair, chef and owner of Fuel Cafe, introduced his vino roster in 2008 — the year Fuel opened — it was short, crisp, and perfectly fine, but over the years, that scroll has grown into an unbelievably impressive and fascinating global selection, stamped with beautifully chosen bottles that represent a swell of grape types: riesling and gewürztraminer, muscadet and malbec, syrah and pinot noir, carménère and carignan, and gamay — and that's the abbreviated version. For a restaurant that excels in the kitchen, it's only fitting that there should be a wine list to match. Fuel uncorks funky but approachable surprises and delights from interesting producers — and nothing is poured with pretense or contempt.

It's 5 p.m. on a Friday — or any day, really. Or any time. You need a beer or a glass of wine or a cocktail, a nice view, maybe a bite to eat and a dose of Colorado sunshine. There's no better spot to find all of the above than the breathtaking rooftop patio at Ale House at Amato's, which even has outdoor fires for chilly days. It may take a while to stake out a seat, but it will come complete with a view of the Central Platte Valley, the downtown Denver skyline and the mountains beyond — and since Amato's fronts I-25, the deck will never lose that view, unlike so many other rooftop spots in this rapidly infilling city. Located on the edge of LoHi, Amato's will keep your spirits up. Way up.

With a name like Scratch Burrito, you'd expect to find bulging, tortilla-wrapped creations when you walk through the door. And with a name like Clay Markwell — formerly of TAG — in the kitchen, you'd expect them to be good. What you wouldn't expect, though, is for a salad to be one of the big draws. Made with chopped napa cabbage, quinoa, roasted corn, black beans and avocado and tossed in a zesty chile-lime vinaigrette, Markwell's Scratch salad is a refreshing alternative to ho-hum mixed greens. Loaded with plenty of grains and beans, it's light but full of protein, so it won't weigh you down, like one of Scratch's globally inspired burritos. Unless, of course, you pair it with a few local beers from the Happy Tap.

The salsa bar at the accurately named 7 Salsas is so impressive, you'll be tempted to come here with plastic bags stuffed in your pockets, just so you can sneak out some of the good stuff. The killer street tacos, burritos, sopas, tortas and other south-of-the-border dishes that emerge from the kitchen are fine on their own, but you won't be able to resist slathering them with the splendid salsas that include a lush, bright-green marriage of acidic tomatillos, avocado and blazing jalapeños, and a deeply smoky, bittersweet, brick-red salsa that benefits from toasted chiles de arbol. The impeccably maintained salsa bar also includes plastic bins of fresh-cut radishes, glistening cilantro leaves, onions and pickled vegetables, and if you happen to load up your plate with more than you can eat, leave the plastic in your pants: 7 Salsas even provides little to-go containers.

At Las Tortas, the only thing louder than the thumping of the music is the sizzling from the griddle, so you'll need to lean closer to the person across the table and shout just to be heard. But once your sandwiches come, there's no time for talking, much less shouting, because food this good — and this messy — demands to be eaten quickly. Put down your suiza (chicken, ham and cheese) or norteña (steak, Milanesa, cheese) and you risk losing all the other toppings — refried beans, mayonnaise, onions, tomatoes, avocado and chipotle sauce — pressed between the bread. Don't miss the tortas ahogadas, a Guadalajaran specialty with griddle-crisped chunks of carnitas spilling out of baguette-like bolillos. Soften the crust with a smother of spicy, vinegary tomato sauce, and you'll wonder why you ever ate turkey with avocado.

When chef-restaurateur Dave Query opened the first Jax Fish House in a weathered brick building in downtown Boulder two decades ago, he managed to turn at least a few bohemian veg heads into fish heads. Now, with four locations in Colorado — Boulder, LoDo, Glendale and Fort Collins — he's got the attention of the meatheads, too, baiting just about everyone who saunters inside any one of his rollicking, ocean-themed fish houses with a show-stopping shrine to sustainably fished and environmentally responsible seafood. Whether it's raw oysters on the half shell, clams, peel-and-eat shrimp, king crab legs or Dungeness crab, steamed mussels floating in a Thai broth, crawfish, caviar or sea-trout roe, the offerings at Jax are enough to make you think Query's harboring his own secret dock in this landlocked state, complete with mystical mermaids.

Chef Troy Guard expanded his empire this year with Los Chingones, and the pig-ear nachos served here could land you in hog heaven. The kitchen braises the porcine lobes until the chewiness is gone, then fries them and crumbles them over a mess of ingredients that could send an elephant running for a Lipitor prescription: A bed of fresh tortilla chips is loaded with bean dip, queso fundido, pickled jalapeños, spicy chorizo, crema and, of course, ears to create a Mexican mayhem of spicy, salty and sweet flavors that you won't find anywhere else.

Lon Symensma, exec chef of ChoLon, is firmly entrenched in the top tier of kitchen luminaries who have made the Mile High City such a dynamic dining destination. But even the best chefs can't do it alone, and Ryan Gorby, the executive sous-chef of ChoLon, deserves his own star. He and Symensma have created a near-faultless food temple that embodies a collaborative spirit, consistently unleashing inspiring, outlandishly experimental and bewitchingly artistic dishes. Together they bring a deep intellectual rigor to the kitchen, sharing a mutual respect and ridiculously intense passion for each ingredient they touch, so that every plate that emerges is more scene-stealing than the last.

Once upon a time, the best steakhouses needed to accomplish just one feat: slap a huge slab of bloody steer on your plate and wait for the moo. Elway's — both the downtown and Cherry Creek locations — definitely meats those expectations. But today the best steakhouses separate themselves from the rest of the herd by offering more than brilliant beef; they reach for all-around culinary supremacy. And Elway's excels here, too, turning out sublime sauces and lush toppings for those steaks, as well as sides that both salute the classics (creamed spinach) and recognize modern tastes (Brussels sprout hash). And that's just the beginning of a charismatic — and refined — menu that forges on with lamb, roasted chicken, a killer smashburger, great chili and beautifully executed seafood. In fact, you could bypass the beef entirely and still have one of the most memorable meals in town.

The morning that Mexican drug lord Joaquín "El Chapo" Guzmán was nabbed in Mazatlán, the single TV at Tacos Selene was tuned to his capture — but the hordes of taco fans barely took notice. Who cares about the world's most-wanted drug kingpin when you're in taco utopia? A great taco is worth going the distance, worth driving across medians and through barriers, worth fistfighting for a parking space and, in this particular case, for a surface on which to sit, because this is a taqueria that never seems to experience even the slightest lull. If you crave tacos al pastor with pineapple, this is your muse. Lengua tacos? Your daydream. Barbacoa? It, too, fulfills every fantasy. Even the salsa bar, stocked with flavor-smacked sauces and every garnish imaginable, is an object of desire. If you want to taco 'bout a paradisiacal experience, this is it.

The ultimate Sunday brunch begins and ends with a Bloody Mary. It's vital, too, that there's something on the board for the egghead, the French-toast fanatic, the potato junkie and the granola-leaning earth muffin. Under chef Theo Adley, the Squeaky Bean's kitchen serves all that and more, but because chief bean-baller Johnny Ballen has a serious fetish for playful diversions, he's got a bag of tricks to elevate the creativity quotient — including the wall-spanning bingo board. Every Sunday from 1 to 3 p.m., Ballen and his irreverent accomplices roll out two hours of bingo, complete with a bingo ball-cage set, bingo cards and a dedicated bingo announcer in the form of comic Sam Tallent, who's also in charge of the prize patrol, a stash that includes bags of dollar-store trinkets; gift certificates to Golden Corral and a bottle of malt liquor stashed in a paper bag; and a grand prize of $50 to spend at the Squeaky Bean. No matter how the balls bounce, brunch at the Bean always results in a Sunday fun day.

Despite the waves of accolades, Land of Sushi might still be the most undiscovered sushi bar in Denver — but that's certainly not the fault of chef Ben Liu, whose exquisite fish outperforms that of the sharks who sell their sushi and sashimi for double, even triple the price. True, the name makes you blink in confusion ("Ocean of Sushi" would have made more sense), the flashing neon sign is more brothel than bluefin, and its location, tucked into an obscure corner of a strip mall, isn't particularly welcoming — but, oh, the fish! Liu turns out translucent sea scallops with tangles of fresh herbs; luscious sea-urchin roe wrapped in nori; rich toro shining like luxurious silk; and stunningly fresh whole mackerel perching on a stark white plate like a silver statue. Freshly grated wasabi that tastes nothing like the stuff squeezed from the tube is available for a small price, too, and it's worth it.

The sign of a great tater tot is when it doesn't need ketchup. And no one does elegant, condiment-free tots better than Table 6, where the humble potato proves once again that it pairs as well with a tie (and a glass of wine) as it does with jeans. Chef Carrie Shores, who took over the kitchen last year from longtime chef Scott Parker, likes to vary what form the long, crisp tots will take. We couldn't get enough of one recent version that featured slivers of fried onions and a dollop of rich French onion spread in a playful nod to that '50s party dip. For those who can never decide between onion rings and French fries, it offered the best of both worlds, a savory version of having your cake and eating it, too.

Once you pass through the humble exterior, if the beautifully serene interior of Thai Diamond Cafe doesn't capture your attention, the smashing dishes certainly will. The menu travels all over Thailand, and while there's nothing groundbreaking on the board — no curry, soup or noodle dish that you may not have tried before — the kitchen, manned by a jovial Thai gentleman with an easy smile, does justice to the classics, turning out a warm laab with chicken or pork, chiles and fresh herbs; nuanced (and fiery) curries liberally stocked with meat, seafood or vegetables, including kabocha squash; intensely flavored soups, filled with seafood and aromatic with lemongrass and lime leaves; and noodles — thick and thin, egg and rice — in every guise. You'll see people waving their forks or chopsticks around, urging everyone at the table to try this or that, and if there are leftovers, prepare for a fight.

Thick-crust pizza used to be nearly interchangeable with deep-dish. These days, though, with the resurgence of super-thin crusts ranging from cracker to Neapolitan, it connotes something different, something that Goldilocks would've liked — i.e., not too thick and not too thin. When we have a hankering for this kind of pie, we head to Papou's Pizzeria, where owner Luke Loukopoulos turns out Greek-style pan pizzas. This no-nonsense storefront is elevated by its sparkling-clean vibe, its vintage Italian posters and its pizzas, of course, which boast a golden, rounded edge and a bottom that morphs from crackly to pillowy as you edge closer to the piles of melted mozzarella. Pizzas are cut into squares, not triangles, so everyone will be pleased, from the ones who want all middle (kids, usually) to those like us, who can't get enough of the crisp, buttery crust.

Thin is in, with new pizza joints that keep crust to a minimum opening every day. But Virgilio's, a behemoth New York-style pizzeria in the suburbs, continues to dispense the area's best thin-crust pies: The crave-worthy, crisp-edged, thin-crusted rounds of dough freckled with brown patches of char deliver a satisfying chew. Slap the red-sauced surface with fennel-scented sausage, red onions and garlic, and you have a purist's pie; top it with blots of feta, artichoke hearts, black olives, spinach and garlic, and you're living the vegetarian dream. A carnivore's pizza bombarded with pepperoni, meatballs, ham, chicken and sausage may lead to a cholesterol spike, but the thin-is-in mantra only goes so far.

From the day that tireless chef/restaurateur/farmer/cheese-maker/forager Alex Seidel opened Fruition, diners near and far have sung its well-deserved praises. Seidel, whose kitchen also boasts the insane talent of sous-chef Matt Vawter, serves amazingly transporting food (think house-cured pork-belly carbonara haloed with a yolk-spilling egg; Dungeness crab-stuffed petrale sole with housemade artichoke cappelletti; and coq au vin with black truffles) in informally intimate quarters, with graciously unpretentious service. This is the ultimate neighborhood restaurant — if you consider the entire world your neighborhood.

A traditional Cubano puts an international twist on a ham-and-cheese sandwich. Given the ingredients, it's almost impossible to even imagine veganizing a Cubano. But Sputnik tried — and succeeded — by slow-roasting jackfruit, which carries a sweetness similar to that of roasted pork, then serving it up on Cuban bread with specially spiced mustard, a creamy garlic spread and pickles. The result is a sweet-and-savory sandwich so tasty you won't miss the cheese.

You never know exactly what chefs Alex Seidel and Matthew Vawter will be cooking up for the "grazing vegetarian" meal at Fruition. But one thing is certain: This combination appetizer and entree will be one of the best meals you've ever had. Fruition's commitment to the farm-to-table ethic and locally sourced food is a perfect match for vegetarian dining, and the chefs clearly enjoy exercising their creativity on the vegetarian option, offering up dishes you simply can't find anywhere else. The careful preparation is evident when the gorgeous plate is set down in front of you: It's almost too pretty to eat. But this is one masterpiece well worth annihilating.

Although many fans of green chile swear by the pork that's a distinctly Denver addition, Tarasco's emphasizes the green in green chile. This excellent Mexican restaurant specializes in the cuisine of Michoacán, with an entire page of the menu devoted to vegetarian fare. And many of those very good dishes — huevos rancheros, a giant relleno burrito — are made even better when smothered with a vegetarian green chile that can quickly turn into an obsession. Tarasco's version is spicy, leaving a definite tingle on your lips and tongue; the layering of flavors is so addictive that you'll never miss the meat — because there's definitely no shortage of heat.

Native Foods might be a link in a California-based chain, but it's also one of the best things to have happened to vegetarians in Denver all year. Plus, it's one of the most carnivore-friendly plant-based restaurants you'll ever visit, with an emphasis on meat substitutes (seitan, "chicken" and more) that are all made in-house and are some of the most convincing meat substitutes you'll ever taste. Native Foods goes far beyond soups and salads (although those offerings are invariably delicious), serving up a variety of sandwiches, chef's-special plates and desserts that will make you want to return again and again to try everything. And for special occasions like Thanksgiving and Valentine's Day, Native Foods puts together vegan-friendly feasts perfect for a celebration.

There's not a lot besides burgers and shakes on the menu at your neighborhood Park Burger. But the eateries (a fourth is coming soon) don't need much more than a darn good burger to thrive in this cowtown — especially when that something extra just happens to be the city's best veggie burger. The grain-based patty is made in-house (there's no egg, so it's vegan-friendly, too) and grilled on the flat-top, then served on one of Park Burger's good buns in a paper-lined basket. The kitchen crew will help adjust the specialty burgers to make them vegan-friendly, or you can create your own by adding some of the toppings available on the long list. So long, in fact, that even the most particular plant-based eater should be able to enjoy his own unique version of the best veggie burger in town.

There are more ways to dress a hot dog than there are stars in the galaxy — at least that's how it seems when you step up to the counter at Steve's Snappin' Dogs. And for those who eschew meat, this glorified hot-dog stand has made it a point to include as many plant-based options as possible. Steve's even has vegetarian green chile to cover your veggie dog with — and on its own, the chile is almost indistinguishable from its meaty counterparts. If you're looking for a traditional-style hot dog without the traditional health issues, look no further than Steve's.

If you're looking for Julia Child-style crepes, don't go to Lotus Vegetarian Restaurant. Inside this tiny, cheerful hole-in-the-wall, with its pink façade and green and blue walls, owner Thuy Pham caters to the vegetarian and vegan sets, so her crepes shun the eggs, white flour and cream that Child used in spades. A turn on the traditional banh xeo (made with pork and shrimp), Pham's version is made with coconut milk and rice flour, with turmeric adding a splash of deep yellow color. Thick as a fluffy omelet, the crepe is filled with a mixture of bean sprouts, carrots and tofu and folded in half, not rolled. Mildly spiced, it's meant to be wrapped in the lettuce and fresh herbs that come on a separate platter, then dunked in nuoc cham. But since this is a vegetarian restaurant, the sweet-and-sour dipping sauce is made without fish sauce, so the flavors of crepe and herbs take center stage.

Last year, Karen and Rob Lawler, who own the Truffle — Denver's best cheese shop — opened the Truffle Table, Denver's best wine-and-cheese bar. The kitchen, helmed by Crickett Burns, turns out everything from alluringly arranged boards of artisan cheeses with delicious accompaniments to pâté de champagne and all-you-can-stomach raclette (Karen calls it "Swiss sex"), offered every Wednesday night for $40 per couple. And nothing pairs better with a choir of cheese than a symphony of wine (including "stickies," an Australian slang word to describe sweet wines) and French bubbles, all of which you'll find in abundance and the majority of which are poured by the glass. If you have any questions, general manager and grape wizard Miguel Vera is more than happy to uncork enlightening answers.

The food at Vietnam Bay presents a collision of Cajun ingredients and Vietnamese specialties. Before you dive elbow-deep into a bag of the freshest crawfish in town, remember that the kitchen also offers chicken wings in a variety of styles. Best is the version with the house fish-sauce glaze, the deep, fermented funk of nuoc mam balanced by soy, sugar, red-chile flakes and a slurry of finely chopped herbs. Although a ramekin of ranch dressing is included on the plate, you won't need it: The tangy tamarind and creeping heat provide all the impact your tongue can handle.

"Basta" translates to "enough" in Italian, and true to the name of the Boulder restaurant that Kelly Whitaker opened in 2010, you can never get enough of the food — whether you order the wood-fired pizzas, roasted vegetables, lasagna or, most notably, the sensational wood-roasted chicken, which flies high above its competition. No one makes the humble bird soar quite like Whitaker, who thumps it with salt and fragrant fresh herbs before compressing it in a Cryovac machine. The chicken is finished off in a wood-fired oven stoked with oak, and the result is exceptionally juicy flesh and an exterior the hue of caramel, with a thin, salty sheet of skin so crisp, you wonder if it might shatter.

If you’ve ever loved a terrible person, Mike Leigh’s quietly sensational Cannes competition entry, Mr. Turner -- a biopic, of sorts, covering the last 25 years of the life of the great nineteenth-century British painter J.M.W. Turner – is the movie for you. In his seascapes and landscapes, Turner found the perfect visual language for every possible combination of weather atmospherics, from soft swirls of ochre sunlight to the powdery whites and grays of treacherous ocean storms. Human beings don’t figure largely in Turner’s work, particularly in the later years of his career; when they appear at all, they’re often small, blurred figures at the mercy of the sky above and the sea below. You can read that as a lack of interest in human nature, or as a kind of personal humility in the face of the vast range of colors and textures – and, by extension, sounds and smells and feelings – that make up the world around us.

As a person, Turner tended toward eccentricity and solitude. And as played in Mr. Turner by Timothy Spall, he isn’t the sort you’d necessarily want to cuddle up to. Only occasionally does he use actual words to communicate. More often, he makes his feelings known using a vast vocabulary of growls that emerge from the depths of his throat. Presented with a visitor he doesn’t wish to see, Turner makes the sound of a bear snuffling through garbage and finding nothing of worth; admiring the thousands of shades of brown and gray in a piece of driftwood, he’s like a contented pig who has located a particularly tasty truffle in the forest.

Turner appears, especially at first, to care little for human beings except on those rare occasions when he needs them: His housekeeper, Hannah (played, with guarded tenderness, by the British stage and theater actress Dorothy Atkinson), welcomes his gruff sexual advances, even though he treats her thoughtlessly. A mysterious and rather angry woman (Ruth Sheen) appears at his door with her two daughters – who, it turns out, are also his daughters – to show him his first grandchild. He grunts at the little cherub in her white bonnet, wanting nothing to do with her.

But only at first: A few minutes later, he comes around to admire the infant in all her powder-pink glory, albeit in a rather businesslike way. Yet it’s the first moment in Mr. Turner when we realize that maybe we’re not as expert at reading this man’s heart as we think. He’s intractable, uncommunicative, dismissive. But he is also, as Spall and Leigh show us, capable of delicate gradations of emotion. This is less your standard-issue biopic than a foray into the mystery of human feeling.

Mr. Turner, majestic in its stubbornness, may be Leigh’s finest picture, or, at the very least, a picture different from any other he’s made. Leigh, Spall, and cinematographer Dick Pope – who borrows lots of lighting tricks from Vermeer and Ingres and even Turner himself, to glorious effect – have gently atomized Turner’s character, breaking it into small, potent fragments that affect us in ways we don’t see coming. We see how he reserves his affection only for a worthy few: For his father (played, wonderfully, by Paul Jesson), a gregarious man who has somehow failed to pass that quality on to his son; and for a widow he meets late in life, Mrs. Booth (the marvelous Marion Bailey) -- when she first meets the already famous painter, she doesn’t even know who he is, though despite his gruff manner, she takes to him immediately.

Spall has always been a terrific actor, but this is the performance of his career. He’s wholly without vanity: As Turner, he has a chin that doesn’t know where his neck begins; he carries his somewhat portly frame like he's more preoccupied with light than with grace of movement. This Mr. Turner is no one we’d go out of our way to know; he may be historically significant, but he’s anti-charismatic, a walking negative charge. And yet somehow, we come to love a man we don’t even like. As Mrs. Booth says of him, with perceptiveness that has nothing to do with flattery or even with mere kindness, “I believe you to be a man of great spirit and fine feeling.” She’s heard the heartbeat beneath the growl.