This Saturday is my favorite holiday: Kentucky Derby Day. In keeping with a tradition set forth long ago by my grandmother, I’m decorating a big hat with lots of ribbon and flowers, mixing up a batch of strong mint juleps and hosting a garden party. Then, once the winning Derby…
There are many time-honored traditions that guys hold dear. Super Bowl parties, spring break, annual hunting or fishing trips, golf outings, bachelor parties. Especially bachelor parties. We’re a sentimental bunch and feel very deeply that every guy deserves to be sent off into marriage after a night of such debauchery…
Prepare for an out-of-this-universe experience at Sputnik, a Broadway lounge named for the world’s first artificial satellite, which was launched by Russia in 1957. To fuel your flight, down several sweet Lenin Martinis ($7), made with vodka, Grand Marnier, fresh lemon juice, a splash of grenadine and Tang — the…
You know it’s going to be a good night when less than an hour into the proceedings, the Head of Research says, “I’m not even hungry anymore.” Since this came after not a seven-course meal, but two hot wings, two Coors Lights and three shots of something called “Tuaca” (Spanish…
With the resounding thwack! of wooden bats, baseball joyfully returned to downtown Denver this week. And while I don’t particularly enjoy watching the slow-paced game, I truly love the spring-summer drinking season that accompanies it. When I want to tie one on before diving for fly balls at Coors Field,…
I’m a hopeless romantic. There’s simply no other explanation for why I took my girlfriend to Hooter’s (1390 South Colorado Boulevard) the other night. Some guys try to compartmentalize their relationships, but I feel it’s important to include my girlfriend whenever it’s practical. That way, if and when we inexplicably…
Spring has definitely sprung in Denver, and that means one thing: Warm evenings will find me drinking cool beers on the magical urban patio behind My Brother’s Bar. The bar has eighteen brews on tap, with everything from Boddington’s to Left Hand Jackman’s Pale Ale, but my favorite spring sipper…
I firmly believe that if I were in charge, this world would be a much better place — for me, at least. I wouldn’t get chest pains over lousy drivers, idiots who take more than five minutes to order coffee, Average Joe, not having four NFL games on every Sunday…
I was pleasantly surprised when I strolled into Brix — a tiny, hip bistro in Cherry Creek North opened earlier this year by Charles Master, whose parents own Mel’s Restaurant and Bar — and saw that it was serving cans of Pabst Blue Ribbon in brown paper bags as a…
On a sunny Sunday, it’s hard to remember all of the literary brilliance rolling around in my head and spewing from my mouth the night before at Old Chicago (1280 South Colorado Boulevard, and about a zillion other locations on the planet). Here’s what I can remember: I’ve been a…
The hot new Zengo wants to fire up Denver’s restaurant scene — and exotically named cocktails that combine Latin and Asian influences are just the right fuel. My favorite is the cool yellow Huetzi ($8), made with Bacardi and mango rums along with fresh mango, ginger and lime juices; it’s…
Part of being Dad is enduring unimaginable torture at the hands of your child. I’m not talking here about the dirty diapers that curl nose hairs from a mile away and defy all laws of physics because there’s no way a ten-pound child should be able to unload thirty pounds…
St. Patrick’s Day is my favorite holiday, and this year I’m going to start things off right. So bright and early next Wednesday morning, you’ll find me tucked into a cozy booth at the Squealin’ Pig Irish Pub, holding tight to a glass mug and sipping an Irish Coffee ($5.25)…
I hate mass-market American “beer.” And not just for the obvious reason — that it’s the root of all evil. We all know that just about every college kid in America is controlled by brain waves transmitted via television commercials that feature the Coors Light Twins or the Miller Lite…
I always pictured John Wayne as a whiskey-straight-up kind of guy. But the Duke must have downed at least one margarita in his 72 years, because the sign hanging over the long wooden bar at the Minturn Saloon — which boasts the Minturn Mountain Margarita as its house cocktail –…
I want to set the record straight: I did not knuckle under to corporate pressure — at least not without trying to get a kickback at the same time. We headed to Chopper’s Sports Grill (80 South Madison Street) the other night to watch the Timberwolves continue their dominance of…
I believe in ghosts. Not the spooky, haunted-house kind that live in basements, but benevolent beings who watch over us from beyond. And while I never got to meet Doug Fleischmann in the flesh, I could swear I felt the warmth of his spirit when I entered Luca d’Italia. Killed…
I like a bar where, after you sit down, the first thing the bartender does is stick out his hand and introduce himself. “We like to know our customers’ names,” says Anthony Ilacqua, as if that’s standard operating procedure at watering holes around town. It’s not, but at the Thin…
On the list of man’s highest accomplishments, the sports bar comes right after the creation of fireworks, dark beer and frozen cookie dough. But let’s face it: All great inventions begin with guys who have nothing better to do than figure out new ways to amuse themselves or make their…
Like its agave-derivative namesake, Mezcal — the upscale Mexican cantina that opened on East Colfax last December — is getting slammed on a nightly basis. And rightly so. From its glowing Moroccan lamps and sunny walls painted with Sol Cerveza advertisements to such kitschy decorations as a chrome low-rider bike…
I am always amazed by the clarity of thought and flawless logic displayed by members of the Institute of Drinking Studies. In a recent post-Avalanche game wrap-up at the Pepsi Center’s Blue Sky Grill, we solved several of the world’s problems. As is too often the case, however, we could…
I loved Miami Vice, with its sexy yachts, fast cars and dangerous criminals. And since it went off the air in 1989, Friday nights have never been the same for me — I still miss Sonny Crockett. But life goes on. And if, like me, you prowl the streets of…
