Best Of :: Food & Drink
From the gracious service and elegant, flower-filled setting to the sea scallops in a spicy garlic sauce and honey-glazed apples, La Chine is everything Chinese dining should be. No gloppy sauces or made-in-Taiwan knickknacks here -- the dining room is as classy and evocative of Asian hospitality as the food. And what food: seafood in your choice of sauces, including ginger, spicy black bean and traditional Szechuan; sweet-and-sour orange roughy fish balls; an Oriental version of gumbo; true kung pao beef complete with ginger, garlic, whole dried chiles and fried peanuts; the house specialty of succulent tea-smoked duck; and lamb in a chile sauce. Call a day ahead and beg for the beggar's chicken, a whole bird that's stuffed with sweetened rice and rubbed with Chinese five-spice powder before being baked in clay, or try the bargain (for those with a big appetite) gourmet $22.50 prix fixe dinner, which includes a platter of five appetizers (check out the pickled jellyfish), La Chine's popular chicken with pine nuts in a lettuce leaf, soup, one of four entrees (go for the Peking duck), and banana fritters or lychees in syrup for dessert. You'll never want to touch a tired old pu pu platter again.
Readers' choice: P.F. Chang's
The Mercury Cafe is the ultimate Zone zone -- not just because it offers nutritious dishes that pull from all of the food groups in ways you can easily regroup to fit your ideal zone, but because after you eat, you'll likely be pulled into some swing dancing that will take you straight to your ideal heart-rate target area. For 25 years now, the Merc has been a hip-hoppy, snap-happy spot that serves great food for carnivores and vegetarians (vegans, lacto-ovo, macro-micro, you name it) alike, in a fun atmosphere filled with dancing, music theater, poetry and any kind of art you can think of (and then some). Ponder life's possibilities as you put away an order of Susan Jane's tofu chop with rice and veggies, or a Santa Fe breakfast of beans, rice, corn, cheese and green chile, or shrimp fettuccine tossed with hot peppers and olive oil. Naturally, everything's homemade from whole grains, natural sweeteners and cold-pressed oils; owner Marilyn Megenity even makes her own soda pop. Get with the program at Denver's zone away from home.
Tired of living off the fat of the land? Need more meat in your diet? Get yer sloppy carcass over to the Denver Buffalo Company, which has been hooking hungry cowpokes up with buffalo for eleven years now. The Western-themed eatery has seventeen ways to eat the ornery creature at high noon, and that many more through happy hour and dinner; a recently added bar menu features a few favorites, such as the buffalo stroganoff and the club steak, for cheap. The DBC even sells uncooked buffalo so you can satisfy the good doctor's meaty requirements in the privacy of your own home. Since buffalo's been around since before the concept of ketosis was even created, you can bet this ultra-lean meat will treat your body right. And if it just so happens you have a hankering to cheat on Dr. Atkins, there's no better way to get a carbo load than a side of hearty hand-mashed potatoes.
Sometimes a plain doughnut just won't do -- and that's when Henderson's Long Johns go a long way toward filling any craving. Instead of forcing sugar fiends to dig through two inches of dough before they get to the creamy center, Henderson's makes all of its Johns plain. After you order one -- chocolate-coated, sugar-powdered or glazed -- they'll take it to the back counter, slice it lengthwise, and then slather in your choice of fluffy whipped cream or Bavarian custard. With that sinful two-inch-thick mortar in place and the lid back on, these confections look more like hoagies than doughnuts, and the first bite can send a load of creamy filling shooting out the back. But, oh, what a glorious mess.
Some of the Cherry Tomato's neighbors put up a fight when the restaurant wanted to open in Park Hill; now no one can imagine the neighborhood without this adorable, welcoming spot. Pasta is the specialty here, and the lasagne is truly something special. This is one of the densest, heartiest versions you'll find, a meat-filled, cheese-packed wedge smothered in a smooth, tomatoey marinara that's a little bit sweet and walks the thin red line between runny and too thick; one order easily serves two. In a restaurant overflowing with abundant humor and good tastes, this dish is a real cherry.
Any Italian restaurant that offers more than the standard spaghetti, linguine and fettuccine is using its noodle -- but Cucina Colóre, a casual Cherry Creek joint, really displays some smarts. Not only does it serve up fusilli, tagliatelle and conchiglie, but it does so in the best way possible: by coating the properly cooked, awesomely al dente pasta in skillfully crafted, classically themed sauces. The white bean and roasted red pepper raviolis, for example, come slicked with a sweet, heady combination of browned butter, sage and balsamic syrup; the penne comes "al arrabbiata," with chile peppers, kalamatas and ricotta salata all angrily fighting for attention; and the conchiglie, or "little ears," arrive napped by a light but rich cream sauce sparked with roasted garlic. Even the veal bolognese on the tagliatelle is noteworthy -- thick and chunky, but still possessing a tomato-rich flavor. One bite, and you'll be pasta point of no return.
Want the real thing? Go to the source. Or as close as we get in Denver, which is the restaurant run by Florence native Simone Parisi and his wife, Christine, who's originally from Boulder. Christine met Simone in Italy, they fell in love, and she convinced him that Denver needed a really good pizzeria. She was right. Their love Italian-style is evidenced in Parisi's offerings: More than just a pizzeria, this is an Italian market where Parisi makes his own mozzarella-like fior di latte. He smokes some of it into scarmorza, the cheese that he puts on his medium-thick, crackly-crunchy-edged crust, then tops with Parisi's sauce, which isn't really a sauce at all -- it's more like a bunch of tomatoes melted down with garlic. Not content to offer just traditional pizzeria pies such as rustica and vegetariana, Parisi also takes advantage of the current abundance of white truffles by piling them on a sinfully delicious, oil-drizzled pizza, which fills the shop with musky perfume for days. Now, that's amore.
Readers' choice: Beau Jo's