I don't know what it is with me, but lately I've just been loving everything. Even places that I probably shouldn't. Even joints that have nothing whatsoever going for them except that they were there when I was hungry and/or thirsty and/or badly in need of a little whiskey and a little company. Maybe I've been spending too much time hunkered down in bars and find it hard to criticize a place whose primary motivation is just to get me liquored up and happy. Maybe I'm getting soft in my old age. Maybe it's just the fucking weather.
In any case, I've got another crush note for you this week, for Govnr's Park — the thirty-odd-year neighborhood veteran and granddaddy of Lala's Wine Bar + Pizzeria. I dropped in late in the week meaning just to have a quick snack and a couple beers, and ended up (once again) falling in love.
Govnr's Park is the kind of place that, if you're anything like me and have fantasies of throwing away everything you've got and moving to some small town in the middle of nowhere, you want this to be the one bar in your town. It's the kind of place that will celebrate the presidential inauguration with as much enthusiasm as the football playoffs (complete with drink specials, extended hours and dirt-cheap grub) and where, if you're having some problem (be it psychological, marital, political or just a broken-down motorcycle), odds are pretty good there's an expert in the house. And if there's not, it's certainly the kind of place where, if you wait 'til a few rounds have gone down, everyone will become an expert and a willing accomplice in just about anything that needs doing. The staff is friendly and funny, and everyone seems honestly happy to be doing their jobs. Including serving food. A few months ago, I swore off sliders because I was sick of them, because every restaurant in town seemed to be doing them — and doing the same three kinds. Well, I broke my fast at Govnr's last week and couldn't have been more pleased with the giant basket of tater tots (the perfect bar food, in my not-so-humble opinion) and spread of five excellent slider-sized Cuban sandwiches — called Little Havanas and made with the house's pulled pork, ham, habanero mustard and sliced pickles on tiny little burger buns that'd been mauled through a sandwich press. While much of the rest of the menu is nothing more than your standard Colorado barroom fare (burgers and sandwiches and a little bit of Mexican food), I can't wait to get back and try the Roadhouse sliders (brisket and barbecue sauce), the mini-hot dogs and the Southwest sliders with pulled pork and raspberry-chipotle sauce.