One recent blustery night, suffering from my second cold of the season but feeling like I was coughing up bird feathers and had become the first North American victim of the bird-flu pandemic, I grabbed a few friends to test out this new proverb: “Drink a cold, feed a fever.”…
My New Year’s resolution is to be like U.S. Representative Tom Tancredo, only a little more conservative. I decided this after spending part of the holidays in Summit County with several million people from out-of-state who I doubt had ever sat in chairs, much less been schooled in skiing etiquette…
I believe Spanky’s Roadhouse (1800 East Evans Avenue) chose its name in hopes of generating buzz before patrons even crossed the threshold. Whenever anyone who was born at least twenty years ago hears the word “roadhouse,” he immediately thinks of the cheesy ’80s movie with Patrick Swayze and then almost…
Drink of the week? We were looking for the drink of the season, and it wasn’t going down all that well. Twenty-eight restaurants had signed up for the Denver Convention & Visitors Bureau’s first Mile High Libations contest — that added up to 31 drinks, each bearing a Mile-High friendly…
I recently started working out with a personal trainer named Michael. When I complain that the weights are too heavy, Michael tells me that he confused my weights with those of “Mrs. Peterson, who is eighty years old and just entered assisted living.” When I tell him I think I…
‘Tis the season when it’s socially acceptable to act like someone who hit puberty and was given the keys to a brand-new muscle car on the same day. The culmination of this season is the office Christmas party, which rivals revealing government secrets as a foolproof way to ruin a…
After those recent, regrettable shootings in LoDo, a friend remarked that the area has been taken over by juvenile delinquents and that there’s nowhere to take older workmates or parents for a cocktail. I was blown away by this comment. LoDo is chockablock with fine establishments for the more sedate…
It’s raining men — hallelujah! I am officially over metrosexuals. The last guy I dated shaved his entire body (yes, even there) and used more skin-care products than Tyra Banks and Janice Dickenson combined. His obsession with personal grooming was not only time-consuming, it was less than manly — and…
I am pleased to announce that Hanson’s Grill & Tavern (1301 South Pearl Street) has been granted Most Favored Bar status by the Liaison for Redneck Relations. “This is my new favorite bar!” he pronounced, after showing up late with his designated-driver wife in tow and rejuvenating a crowd that…
It seems like every time I turn around, there’s another wonderful, delicious and — just as important — independent restaurant opening up in the Potter-Highlands district. The most recent addition is Duo, owned by Keith Arnold, Stephanie Bonin and Scott Raderstorf. Keith and Stephanie, who are husband and wife, have…
Have you ever seen the look on someone’s face the first time he rides a roller coaster? It’s a mixture of abject fear, exhilaration and satisfaction that he has a foolproof plan for killing you in your sleep because you assured him that the roller coaster wasn’t in the least…
It’s that time of year again, when we gather with loved ones and pick at the unfinished turkey only to get yelled at by the cook. To avoid this temptation, we’ll find the sole patch of grass in a six-mile radius and start a friendly game of football that includes…
Years ago, when I seemed to have more luck than I do today, I was sent to Bermuda for a sales meeting one week after I started a job. While I’m sure I learned massive amounts about my new company, the only thing I still remember is how much I…
Colfax has come a long way in its revitalization, although we may see increased ratings for Johns TV after Channel 4’s recent exposé on the rub-and-tug/happy-ending industry here in town. But human nature always prevails, as it was doing when we pulled up to the Cork House (4900 East Colfax…
How much wood can a woodchuck chuck? When I walked into Via to meet friends for a drink, I immediately noticed two things: wood and smokin’ hot guys — and in that order, surprisingly. Venanzio and Anthony Momo are responsible for both. Owners of Cucina Coloré in Cherry Creek and…
The recent Institute of Drinking Studies excursion to Madison, Wisconsin, had nothing to do with the much-publicized Halloween riots. I swear. We were there on an educational fact-finding mission, looking for ways to turn Denver into an even better drinking town. Of course, the foundation of any research project is…
Ça c’est bon. Is there anything more charming than finding a quaint French bistro in a neighborhood where you don’t expect it? Mais non! A decade ago, any restaurant that dared to open in this part of town had to feature chips and salsa on its menu; two decades before…
Several members of the Institute of Drinking Studies — all definite throwbacks — met recently at a very manly and friendly throwback of a tavern, the Pub on Pearl (1101 South Pearl Street). This small bar is nestled on a corner near where Pearl Street meets I-25, conveniently close to…
Who’d think a shot called Don’t Name Your Fucking Kid After Me would lead to a tongue-in-cheek throw-down? After I wrote about that concoction a few weeks ago, I heard from Carl Johansen, the good-natured fellow who says he not only invented the shot when he was at Herman’s, but…
The other night I ducked into Target to get some razors made of a rare metal that dulls after one shave, despite a per-ounce price that’s higher than platinum. While struggling through aisles of cheap lingerie that still grab any guy’s eye (don’t tell me you don’t look) to reach…
Only a few weeks ago, I besmirched champagne cocktails, questioning a man’s sexuality because he’d ordered a “girl drink.” Now, however, I must drink my words, because not only is Corridor 44 the swankiest, most posh and glamorous spot to hit Denver in the past year, but it’s come up…
Has anyone seen an escaped monkey? I’ve been scouring the papers for such information since a night at Brix (3000 East Third Avenue), when the little simian that has plagued periods of my drinking career was on the loose, relieving himself in my mouth after I passed out. (I’ve heard…
