Although Hemingway's Key West Grille serves up crab legs every day of the week, on Sundays it really gives you a leg up -- offering Alaskan king crab legs that normally run $31.95 for a pound and a half at $29.95 for all you can eat. And it's not just all you can eat of the succulent crabmeat, either: The special also nets you thick-cut fries and bread. Enjoy this feast fit for a king crab in an atmosphere that's appropriately nautical. Papa, don't preach -- just pass us another load of legs.

Although Hemingway's Key West Grille serves up crab legs every day of the week, on Sundays it really gives you a leg up -- offering Alaskan king crab legs that normally run $31.95 for a pound and a half at $29.95 for all you can eat. And it's not just all you can eat of the succulent crabmeat, either: The special also nets you thick-cut fries and bread. Enjoy this feast fit for a king crab in an atmosphere that's appropriately nautical. Papa, don't preach -- just pass us another load of legs.

Andrews' Pub, which took over the space once occupied by City Spirit, has been making a name for itself as a good happy-hour stop and a hoppin' weekend joint. Our favorite time to visit Andrews' is on Sunday afternoons, when the normally raucous crowd is home nursing a hangover. It's the ideal time to get going on one of your own, since the brews -- including Guinness, all well drinks and the house wine -- are $2.50 all day. Settle into one of Andrews's comfy booths, watch the big game, eat a mountainous order of killer nachos absolutely smothered with cheeses, or just stew over how your Saturday night went so wrong. At $2.50 a pop, you'll be feeling better within ten bucks.
Andrews' Pub, which took over the space once occupied by City Spirit, has been making a name for itself as a good happy-hour stop and a hoppin' weekend joint. Our favorite time to visit Andrews' is on Sunday afternoons, when the normally raucous crowd is home nursing a hangover. It's the ideal time to get going on one of your own, since the brews -- including Guinness, all well drinks and the house wine -- are $2.50 all day. Settle into one of Andrews's comfy booths, watch the big game, eat a mountainous order of killer nachos absolutely smothered with cheeses, or just stew over how your Saturday night went so wrong. At $2.50 a pop, you'll be feeling better within ten bucks.
Work has just ended, and your energy is flagging: A quick bite and a beer should help you regroup. Between 5 and 7 p.m. Monday through Friday, Anita's Crab Company delivers a half-pound of fresh shrimp and a zingy cocktail sauce, which comes with a dollop of horseradish in the center, to your table for just $3. Peeling the shell off of shrimp has a way of soothing even the most savage computer technician, and the combination of sweetly marinated crustaceans and tangy, snappy sauce staves off some hunger without making dinner an impossibility. Enjoy the shrimp inside Anita's cool, casual dining room, or head to the uber-urban patio surrounded by lofts and parking garages. Then it won't matter so much if you drop a shell or two in your attempt to forget the day.
Work has just ended, and your energy is flagging: A quick bite and a beer should help you regroup. Between 5 and 7 p.m. Monday through Friday, Anita's Crab Company delivers a half-pound of fresh shrimp and a zingy cocktail sauce, which comes with a dollop of horseradish in the center, to your table for just $3. Peeling the shell off of shrimp has a way of soothing even the most savage computer technician, and the combination of sweetly marinated crustaceans and tangy, snappy sauce staves off some hunger without making dinner an impossibility. Enjoy the shrimp inside Anita's cool, casual dining room, or head to the uber-urban patio surrounded by lofts and parking garages. Then it won't matter so much if you drop a shell or two in your attempt to forget the day.
Willie G's Seafood & Steaks
Craving oysters in Denver is like needing a tomato in Siberia. Although the freshness will always be suspect, sometimes there's nothing you can do about an oyster urge but take a chance and eat one -- or a dozen. As LoDo has grown, plenty of oyster eateries have sprung up, but none offers the deal that Willie G's does. From 3 to 7 p.m. Monday through Friday, you can slurp your fill of cold, raw oysters for just 50 cents each. Although the price is good, the quality is better: These are some of the freshest, plumpest viscous vittles in town.
Craving oysters in Denver is like needing a tomato in Siberia. Although the freshness will always be suspect, sometimes there's nothing you can do about an oyster urge but take a chance and eat one -- or a dozen. As LoDo has grown, plenty of oyster eateries have sprung up, but none offers the deal that Willie G's does. From 3 to 7 p.m. Monday through Friday, you can slurp your fill of cold, raw oysters for just 50 cents each. Although the price is good, the quality is better: These are some of the freshest, plumpest viscous vittles in town.
Vendors come and go quickly on the 16th Street Mall as they discover that rents outweigh earnings. Sure, there's a hot dog stand every other block, two popcorn purveyors, a baked-goods venue and a bento-box spot -- but the pickings often seem very slim. That's when it's time to head over to the Philadelphia Filly, where Sally Rock and Dale Goin, who used to own the Philadelphia Filly on South Pearl Street, have taken it to the streets. In summer they serve up cheese-gooey, steak-packed cheesesteaks; in winter, steamy, flavorful soups. While Goin expedites -- "I need a dubba dubba and a du jour," he barks, calling for a cheesesteak with double meat and double cheese and one with mushroom and green pepper -- Rock rocks on the grill and out of the crock, with all of the food coming quick and fast. Just look for the old-fashioned quilted-metal diner-looking cart, and be prepared to eat your filly for about five bucks.

Readers' choice: Tristan the hotdog guy

Vendors come and go quickly on the 16th Street Mall as they discover that rents outweigh earnings. Sure, there's a hot dog stand every other block, two popcorn purveyors, a baked-goods venue and a bento-box spot -- but the pickings often seem very slim. That's when it's time to head over to the Philadelphia Filly, where Sally Rock and Dale Goin, who used to own the Philadelphia Filly on South Pearl Street, have taken it to the streets. In summer they serve up cheese-gooey, steak-packed cheesesteaks; in winter, steamy, flavorful soups. While Goin expedites -- "I need a dubba dubba and a du jour," he barks, calling for a cheesesteak with double meat and double cheese and one with mushroom and green pepper -- Rock rocks on the grill and out of the crock, with all of the food coming quick and fast. Just look for the old-fashioned quilted-metal diner-looking cart, and be prepared to eat your filly for about five bucks.

Readers' choice: Tristan the hotdog guy

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