They've been listed as one of the "Top Ten Hidden Treasures in America." They've gotten the nod on the Food Network's Best Of. Folks from all over the world can see their place talked about in-flight on Delta Airlines. And now you can frequent the Philadelphia Filly -- the little cheesesteak cart that could - not only at lunch, at 16th Street and Broadway, but also at night, at 16th and Market Street. For years, Philly natives Sally Rock and Dale Goin have been feeding an ever-growing legion of Denver faithful, slapping together authentic Philly cheesesteaks and serving up fresh soups for the lunchtime crowds; now Rock's son, Willy Killhour, wraps up monster double-meat, double-cheese sandwiches for LoDo bar-hoppers. They may not have fancy silver, linen tablecloths or even tables, but if you're looking for the real deal -- for honest American street cuisine that's hot, fast and filling enough to keep you going all afternoon (or well into the next morning) -- Philadelphia Filly is tops.


They've been listed as one of the "Top Ten Hidden Treasures in America." They've gotten the nod on the Food Network's Best Of. Folks from all over the world can see their place talked about in-flight on Delta Airlines. And now you can frequent the Philadelphia Filly -- the little cheesesteak cart that could - not only at lunch, at 16th Street and Broadway, but also at night, at 16th and Market Street. For years, Philly natives Sally Rock and Dale Goin have been feeding an ever-growing legion of Denver faithful, slapping together authentic Philly cheesesteaks and serving up fresh soups for the lunchtime crowds; now Rock's son, Willy Killhour, wraps up monster double-meat, double-cheese sandwiches for LoDo bar-hoppers. They may not have fancy silver, linen tablecloths or even tables, but if you're looking for the real deal -- for honest American street cuisine that's hot, fast and filling enough to keep you going all afternoon (or well into the next morning) -- Philadelphia Filly is tops.
Yo, Philadelphians know that most "Philly-style" steaks are crap. Gourmet steaks loaded with fancy veggies served on a toasted baguette may be what we'd like to think they're eating in the City of Brotherly Love, but they're not. They're devouring crumbly grilled meat, American or Provolone cheese, and maybe some fried onions or peppers piled high on a soft, chewy roll. And at Taste of Philly, which is owned by some Pennsylvania transplants, they know that. Their uncomplicated steaks and cheese ring true with diners from the Delaware Valley. In Philly, a cheesesteak rivalry still rages between Pat's and Geno's. But in Denver, Taste of Philly takes the prize.


Yo, Philadelphians know that most "Philly-style" steaks are crap. Gourmet steaks loaded with fancy veggies served on a toasted baguette may be what we'd like to think they're eating in the City of Brotherly Love, but they're not. They're devouring crumbly grilled meat, American or Provolone cheese, and maybe some fried onions or peppers piled high on a soft, chewy roll. And at Taste of Philly, which is owned by some Pennsylvania transplants, they know that. Their uncomplicated steaks and cheese ring true with diners from the Delaware Valley. In Philly, a cheesesteak rivalry still rages between Pat's and Geno's. But in Denver, Taste of Philly takes the prize.
Prepare to meat your maker. In some circles, a dinner at Morton's of Chicago is considered a reasonable sacrifice to the gods, a way to thank them for your good luck. Drop a few hundred clams on a chunk crabmeat cocktail, on a perfectly cooked Porterhouse steak, on a potato bigger than your head, on a chocolate soufflé -- you're crediting your karma account at the same time you're downing some very good food. Morton's gives testimony to the power of a great steak, and the downtown restaurant is our favorite place to worship. From the cozy bar (get there early and enjoy a few gratis steak sandwiches) to the plush booths deep in the back of the intimate dining room, from the morgue cart-presentation of the menu offerings to the last sweep of the crumb catcher, a meal at Morton's is the gift that keeps on giving.
Morton's the Steakhouse
Courtesy of Morton's
Prepare to meat your maker. In some circles, a dinner at Morton's of Chicago is considered a reasonable sacrifice to the gods, a way to thank them for your good luck. Drop a few hundred clams on a chunk crabmeat cocktail, on a perfectly cooked Porterhouse steak, on a potato bigger than your head, on a chocolate soufflé -- you're crediting your karma account at the same time you're downing some very good food. Morton's gives testimony to the power of a great steak, and the downtown restaurant is our favorite place to worship. From the cozy bar (get there early and enjoy a few gratis steak sandwiches) to the plush booths deep in the back of the intimate dining room, from the morgue cart-presentation of the menu offerings to the last sweep of the crumb catcher, a meal at Morton's is the gift that keeps on giving.
Although the obliging staffers are happy to serve you anything off Sullivan's menu in the clubby, boxing-themed bar, there's plenty to chew on in the bar menu alone. The cheeseburger, steak sandwich and blackened New York strip are particularly worthy of your attention: big, big portions of quality meat, cooked as requested, served with the ideal spud sides, and just the thing to munch as you listen to a jazz combo or dish the dirt with your companions.


Although the obliging staffers are happy to serve you anything off Sullivan's menu in the clubby, boxing-themed bar, there's plenty to chew on in the bar menu alone. The cheeseburger, steak sandwich and blackened New York strip are particularly worthy of your attention: big, big portions of quality meat, cooked as requested, served with the ideal spud sides, and just the thing to munch as you listen to a jazz combo or dish the dirt with your companions.
Sometimes simple is best. Sometimes getting right to the point is better than a whole lot of fancy-pants messing around. And when you're talking about seafood, this is almost always the case. At Lola, Dave Query and Jamey Fader (both also associated with Jax, a longtime Best of Denver fave) have taken this wisdom to heart and come up with a coastal Mexico-themed restaurant where sea critters are the stars. Tender salmon mopped with a barbecue sauce that enhances but never overpowers the fresh, delicate flavor of the fish; rock shrimp ceviche kicked up with candy-sweet mango; a rustic Spanish estofada, a deeply but gently seasoned stew in which the huge shrimp and a half-lobster split like a biology illustration take center stage -- these are just a few of the straightforward and rough-edged dishes that draw huge crowds to Lola. It's nothing fancy -- not artsy or overly gussied up, just good food that speaks for itself.


Jax Fish House
Jax Fish House
Sometimes simple is best. Sometimes getting right to the point is better than a whole lot of fancy-pants messing around. And when you're talking about seafood, this is almost always the case. At Lola, Dave Query and Jamey Fader (both also associated with Jax, a longtime Best of Denver fave) have taken this wisdom to heart and come up with a coastal Mexico-themed restaurant where sea critters are the stars. Tender salmon mopped with a barbecue sauce that enhances but never overpowers the fresh, delicate flavor of the fish; rock shrimp ceviche kicked up with candy-sweet mango; a rustic Spanish estofada, a deeply but gently seasoned stew in which the huge shrimp and a half-lobster split like a biology illustration take center stage -- these are just a few of the straightforward and rough-edged dishes that draw huge crowds to Lola. It's nothing fancy -- not artsy or overly gussied up, just good food that speaks for itself.

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