Best Once-a-Month Italian 2005 | Frasca | Best of Denver® | Best Restaurants, Bars, Clubs, Music and Stores in Denver | Westword
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Julia Vandenoever
No matter how much you eat or how long you stay at Frasca, you'll always leave wanting more -- and you'll start planning your return as soon as possible. A month should be long enough to rebuild your bank account, although considering the quality of the food and the talent in the kitchen, the prices are pretty reasonable. And while the crowds are borderline fanatical at this point -- filling the comfortable dining room from the minute the doors open until long after they should have closed, clogging up the reservation book three weeks in advance for anything approaching a prime-time seating -- Frasca is one of the very few places in the country, not just Colorado, where this sort of fawning, zealous passion is entirely deserved. One visit is simply not enough.

In this decidedly steak-and-potatoes town, where steakhouses spring up faster than mushrooms after a soaking rain, Capital Grille remains a cut above the rest. We've eaten a lot of prime and put away a lot of baked potatoes at meat markets around the city, putting up with snooty servers and imperious hosts. And we've always come back to Capital Grille, where the service is superb -- the staff in their ill-fitting butcher's coats, the bartenders in their bow ties, the hostesses in their big smiles -- and the solid, old-school decor brightened up just enough by the view across the back of the sleek, modern bar. The steaks are fantastic, of course, as is the rest of the food. In fact, everything about Capital Grille is just a little bit better, a little bit smoother, a little bit more polished than the competition. We'll steak our lives on that.

In this decidedly steak-and-potatoes town, where steakhouses spring up faster than mushrooms after a soaking rain, Capital Grille remains a cut above the rest. We've eaten a lot of prime and put away a lot of baked potatoes at meat markets around the city, putting up with snooty servers and imperious hosts. And we've always come back to Capital Grille, where the service is superb -- the staff in their ill-fitting butcher's coats, the bartenders in their bow ties, the hostesses in their big smiles -- and the solid, old-school decor brightened up just enough by the view across the back of the sleek, modern bar. The steaks are fantastic, of course, as is the rest of the food. In fact, everything about Capital Grille is just a little bit better, a little bit smoother, a little bit more polished than the competition. We'll steak our lives on that.

We don't care how many newfangled steakhouses open in this burg, we'll keep going to Bastien's. We don't care if one opens where the steaks are dipped in gold and served by waitresses booted from Hooters for being of too low a moral character, we'll still keep going to Bastien's. As a matter of fact, a steakhouse could open where naked women delivered filet mignons to us in the bathtub and then paid us to eat them, and we'd still find time to visit Bastien's, because there's simply no other place in Denver (or probably the world) that serves a great twenty-dollar sugar steak in an atmosphere as swingin'-'60s swank as this Colfax landmark.


Molly Martin
We don't care how many newfangled steakhouses open in this burg, we'll keep going to Bastien's. We don't care if one opens where the steaks are dipped in gold and served by waitresses booted from Hooters for being of too low a moral character, we'll still keep going to Bastien's. As a matter of fact, a steakhouse could open where naked women delivered filet mignons to us in the bathtub and then paid us to eat them, and we'd still find time to visit Bastien's, because there's simply no other place in Denver (or probably the world) that serves a great twenty-dollar sugar steak in an atmosphere as swingin'-'60s swank as this Colfax landmark.

From its home on Broadway, Club 404 has seen a lot of Denver history come and go -- more than fifty years of it -- and during all that time, there's been one constant. And that would be Jerry Feld, 404's owner. Sure, he's now got family helping him with the day-to-day business of running the joint, but it's a rare night that Feld himself isn't somewhere on the premises, either pouring drinks, working the floor or knocking around in the kitchen, where his crew bangs out Denver's best cheap steaks. How cheap? How about nine dollars for the 404 T-bone? This isn't the most delicate of cuts, but it's still a damned fine piece of meat, and it comes with a straight iceberg salad, dressings served in giant plastic jugs, sides of out-of-the-box mash and out-of-the-can gravy, and -- if you're lucky -- a wink from a waitress who's been working the room for nearly as long as Feld has owned it.


From its home on Broadway, Club 404 has seen a lot of Denver history come and go -- more than fifty years of it -- and during all that time, there's been one constant. And that would be Jerry Feld, 404's owner. Sure, he's now got family helping him with the day-to-day business of running the joint, but it's a rare night that Feld himself isn't somewhere on the premises, either pouring drinks, working the floor or knocking around in the kitchen, where his crew bangs out Denver's best cheap steaks. How cheap? How about nine dollars for the 404 T-bone? This isn't the most delicate of cuts, but it's still a damned fine piece of meat, and it comes with a straight iceberg salad, dressings served in giant plastic jugs, sides of out-of-the-box mash and out-of-the-can gravy, and -- if you're lucky -- a wink from a waitress who's been working the room for nearly as long as Feld has owned it.

No, Big John isn't flipping tenderloins on the grills in the back, but he does show up every now and then -- and he's nothing but gracious when he does. And, no, the dining room isn't filled with fat guys in Broncos jerseys and sweatpants. Actually, Elway's draws the kind of crowd you see at every other high-tone address in Cherry Creek, as well as a good number of steakhouse converts who've been wooed away from some of the more established temples of meat. And while the place does have John Elway's name everlastingly attached to it, it's a restaurant first and foremost, with a pro team running a pro house where the comfort of their guests and the grub coming out of the galley is more important than anything else. Eateries opened by current and former celebrities have become something of a staple -- and a joke -- in this brave new post-Planet Hollywood world, but Elway's is serious about what it does, and does it well.

No, Big John isn't flipping tenderloins on the grills in the back, but he does show up every now and then -- and he's nothing but gracious when he does. And, no, the dining room isn't filled with fat guys in Broncos jerseys and sweatpants. Actually, Elway's draws the kind of crowd you see at every other high-tone address in Cherry Creek, as well as a good number of steakhouse converts who've been wooed away from some of the more established temples of meat. And while the place does have John Elway's name everlastingly attached to it, it's a restaurant first and foremost, with a pro team running a pro house where the comfort of their guests and the grub coming out of the galley is more important than anything else. Eateries opened by current and former celebrities have become something of a staple -- and a joke -- in this brave new post-Planet Hollywood world, but Elway's is serious about what it does, and does it well.

There are some rooms where we like seeing everyone dressed to the nines, restaurants where dignity and formality and pomp feel right. And then there's the Northwoods Inn. Here, the ragtime piano player wears arm garters and people throw their peanut shells on the floor and eat soup out of a communal pot. Here, the house can serve something on the order of 300 customers at a time, and does so three, sometimes four turns a night, every night. Here, families with kids, old folks, young couples on dates, businessmen, famous faces and absolute nobodies are treated the same -- like the walking cash dispensers that they are. But no one ever walked away hungry from the Northwoods Inn. No one ever had anything less than a decent feed at fair prices. And no one even seems to complain about the wait -- which can sometimes be upwards of two hours -- because here, as at Disneyland, once the fun is over, no one remembers the lines.

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