Denver on a Spit: A Denver Food Blog

FDR, Pig's Feet and an Event For You

2013-05-19T14:26:00.000-06:00

It continues to amaze me that I get asked to publicize events, attend media promotions--or really to do anything that relies on the assumption that because I have chosen to publish my thoughts about food on the internet, that people out there for some reason: a) read, b) care about, or even harder to believe, c) act upon what ends up on my blog. But I like to imagine that in the publicity business they still say, “There is no such thing as bad publicity,” in which case I suppose I can understand. And every once in a while (for the good or bad of the event I don't know), something comes along that I feel compelled to share.

June 8, Denver’s own soul food scholar, Adrian Miller, will be giving a talk called, “Black Chefs of the White House,” as a fundraiser for the Campbell Chapel African Methodist Episcopal Church's health and wellness ministry and the Colorado Black Health Collaborative at the Turnhalle Ballroom at the Tivoli Student Union. And there won't just be talking about food, your ticket includes a meal that represents food made by the many black chefs in the white house all the way from George Washington to our current chef to the chief.

If you have read this much blog before then you know that what I love most about the country that we live in is the blurring of cultures, traditions and authenticity. Learning that African Americans have been omnipresent in the White house kitchen staff does not surprise me, but to imagine the day FDR fell in love with pig's feet, or that LBJ used the experiences of his African American cook to lobby for the 1964 civil rights act is certainly something I want to hear more about.

So if your curiosity is piqued, too, check out the event details.

Ace Eat Serve My Kids

2013-05-13T21:37:00.002-06:00

Not too long ago I bitched and moaned about a sorry list of kid-friendly eat spots in Denver put together by someone that I can only hope wasn't really trying all that hard. I also promised I wouldn't turn this blog into a kid-centric restaurant blog-- and I won't--- but when you go out to eat with a pair of toddlers on a regular basis, places that treat your kids well and keep them happy go quickly to the top of your list. And sometimes it happens when you are least expecting it.

Such was the case with Denver's relatively new Ace Eat Serve, which has become instantly popular due to its affiliation with neighboring hipster institution Stueben's--and its ping pong tables don't hurt either. Sure ping pong sounds kid friendly I suppose, but when I think new hip restaurant in uptown, I don't immediately round up the wife and squirmy two-year olds and pile in the Wagon Queen Family Truckster.

But Ace is fully prepared to take good care of your kids. Ours were greeted with the typical coloring placemats and crayons, but also diverse menu options, of which we chose the steamed bun plate.

It came out on a brilliant red tray, the cool kind with all the dividers and shit. Besides the steamed bun, there was a pile of bright green edemame and a fruit salad of strawberries and mango. And for utensils? Tong-like kiddie chopsticks.

Ace got everything right for my kids and the adult plates that got passed were also mostly very good, but among some flashes of brilliance was some mediocrity. On the good side were the crispy beef and fried Brussels sprouts. The thin strips of honey-ginger sweet beef were wholly satisfying and crispy indeed; while the (also crispy) Brussels sprouts and chiles were simply perfect.

The soup dumplings were also good. Simple foods like this often are, and Ace did well to leave it alone.

On the not-so-good side was a fish dish that my wife ordered. So forgettable, in fact, that I don't remember anything else about it.

Also worth mentioning was the admirable though not very spicy house made kim chi. And the airy steamed buns filled with braised short ribs.

While my kids did enjoy eating with tongs (they really do, and would attempt to eat every meal with big BBQ tongs if allowed), they love little bits of ice even more. For dessert Ace offers flavored, shaved ice--for free. My boys slurped and savored in silence for the last 10 to 15 minutes of the meal. That is nothing short of miraculous.

I loved Ace. Maybe not for every single plate I ate, but for how much my kids ate, and how well we were all treated. So parents, add this one to your list, and for you fun loving single kid-less types, don't worry, we all eat dinner at like 5:30, so we will be out of your hair long before anything really fun could happen anyway.

Jolly Me and Jollibee: Filipino Fast Food in Seattle

2013-05-05T20:38:00.000-06:00

A few weeks back I was in the refreshingly rainy hamlet of Seattle to rendezvous with my Pinoy peeps and to soak in the city, as it were. And in between brief rays of sun (minutes at best), rain it did; and though we did spend some quality time outdoors, we did oft seek shelter indoors.

Besides the wet stuff that falls from the sky, Seattle is different from Denver in other ways. It is, for example, home to many, many Filipino expats and their inevitable extended families. This was equally as refreshing to me as the 4 days of more or less continuous rain showers, because as I have said before, Denver is sorely lacking Filipinos.

You may remember from my other posts that Filipinos love the mall, so it should be no surprise that in south Seattle, where the Filipino population is most concentrated, there is a fabulously Filipino mall. I am not one to take much pride or joy in the Filipino mall-loving tradition. Maybe it is because I am but 50 percent Pinoy (I don't care for boxing much either), though whatever the case I was thrilled to go to Seattle's Southcenter mall, and not just because of the pouring rain, but because it has Jollibee.

Don't know jollibee? Jollibee is the face in Filipino fast food. Well, at least the Jollibee jolly bee is.

Jollibee is a fantastic (or not-so-fantastic, depending on you taste) mix of fried chicken, burgers and a handful of Filipino-inspired bites like the spam burgers that were recently featured on Bourdain's "new" CNN show. But my family comes here for their love of fried chicken.

"Fried chicken?" you may wonder. Yes, although love of fried chicken has been stereotypically associated with other ethnic groups, the Filipino love of crispy, breaded chicken proves how stupid stereotypes really are. That being said, who doesn't love fried chicken? I mean, even if you are a vegetarian, or don't eat the stuff, I doubt it is because you don't like the taste of fried chicken skin and juicy, tender chicken flesh. Is there a stereotype for people who don't love fried chicken?

The chicken, although "crispylicious", is not entirely unlike other fast food chicken you might come across in the US (save for the side of steamed rice), and it is not as good as in other chicken hubs of the Philippines (like Max's, which I learned is in Vancouver), but it is a taste of home for many and that is likely why we waited almost 10 minutes in line just to order.

Was it worth it? Maybe. Certainly for the nostalgia and the halo halo, a uniquely Filipino dessert made up of beans, candied fruits, ice cream and many other treats that may or may not sound appealing at first all mixed together--but it is simply fantastic. You can enjoy a very good version of halo-halo at Denver's own Sunburst Grill, but this portable Jollibee version more than did the trick. My wife tore into it before I had a chance to snap a photo, and the photo is shaky as I had to literally wrest it from her hands and then dodge her loving blows as I snapped it.

This mall was so full of Filipinos that it also was home to a Filipino evangelical church and a full-on Filipino market that reeks wonderfully of freshly fried fish all day and night. Old Filipino men take over entire sections of the mall to play cards. So next time you are in Seattle and want a fun Filipino experience, head out of the rain and into the Southcenter Filipino Shopping Center.

Oy Vey! The Bagel Deli as Featured on the TV!

2013-04-21T14:47:00.001-06:00

A certain food celebrity with spiky hair and a sort of persona you might describe as a Rachel Ray mixed with a wannabe biker was recently in Denver to gush in cliches over more of our city's food. His arrival generated a little backlash--even a tinge of hatred--from more than one local media outlet. I'm not sure what makes him so polarizing, though I think watching too much Food Network these days would make anyone edgy. I personally have never been a fan (though I do secretly wish I came up with his tagline), but isn't it a good thing to get some national exposure for some of Denver's mom and pop joints? My answer to that question after eating at one of his stops on his last Denver tour is: maybe.

It was a weekday and the Denver On a Spit family had the morning off so we packed ourselves in the car and made a trip down to The Bagel Deli. It wasn't until I was walking up to the restaurant itself that I found out they were featured on the Food Network, thanks to the hard-to-miss signs.

We entered the half-deli, half-diner strip mall space and among the family pictures and other homey kitsch decor was a TV playing a loop of their 6.5 minutes of fame. Big signs advertising a TV show is understandable and is one thing, but playing that spiky blond blabbermouth on a continuous loop while good people are sitting down to break bread together is a special kind of torture.

But still there was great service and even some refreshing East coast-style smack talking. When I wondered out loud to my server about ordering a simple bagel and lox, over the bagel and lox plate, he snarkily commented that the small sandwich would be a good choice if I was, "80 and having dinner at four in the afternoon." Well put. I respond well when my waiter challenges my manhood and overall eating stamina. And alternatively, for the record, I hate it when my waiter tries to get me to eat less-- what are you my doctor?

My lox and bagel platter was just what I was in the mood for. A hearty serving of smoked salmon and a scoop of cream cheese with all the fixings. The bagel was decent and the meal was overall satisfying, and though not in any way large it would indeed probably be a tad too much for the average 4pm diner.

If you do find your meal too much to handle, they do offer to-go boxes at The Bagel Deli; something we took advantage of for my wife's meal, a plateful of potato latkes. There didn't seem to be too many latkes, but they were a tad on the greasy side, so we boxed them up but I'm not sure we ever finished them. They were perfectly fine latkes, I just don't know if I've ever been in the mood for a full plate of latkes.

I somehow managed to write a post about the Food Network show about greasy spoons, hole-in-the-walls and eating in cars without mentioning the host's name. If you are a an employee of Denver's alternative media, you might refer to him as, "he-who-must-not-be-named", and be proud of me. But come on. Is he really that bad? And if he is, doesn't he win--I mean have you seen his car and studded jewelry?-- he really is winning--for the attention he grabs?

And regardless, I think it's probably good for the businesses in the end, though this one could tone it down a little. I think I would have preferred the Bagel Deli in the pre-fame days. Or I think I think so. Whatever. So like I always say: "Ess, bench, sei a mensch", or, "Eat, pray, don't act like a jerk!" (Note: I've never said that before, but if I were Jewish that would totally be my tag line.)

Seeing Friends and Eating Seafood at Thai Flavor of Aurora

2013-04-14T20:26:00.000-06:00

A few weeks ago, my family and I had the pleasure of once again sharing a dining table with Mark Antonation, who now has a public forum for his food eating opinions at Westword.com; Denveater, who writes what I consider our city's best all-around food blog; and Denveater's partner in life, food and most importantly, film, the Director, We broke bread-- or noodles-- way out in the heart of Aurora, at an East-side favorite of mine, Thai Flavor. Here are some snippets from our subsequent email conversations about that night. For some more on Thai Flavor, check out Denveater's post, and for all your adventures on the Peoria Street of Denver, check out Mark's blog on Westword's Cafe Society, A Federal Case.

Me: I cannot recall the name of my entree. That is not to say it wasn't memorable, but I was distracted at times from my meal and otherwise stimulating conversation by the throwing of broccoli, tossing of rice and an admirable go at ripping to shreds an entire phone book. Yes, as you may recall, my boys were there, who are in the full throes of their terrific twos. So what can I say about my entree? I remember liking it. And I remember the big chunks of calamari, the 2 or 3 well-cooked mussels, the shrimp and the sweet sear of my not-too-spicy sauce.

DV: I agree we were all a bit distracted...not just by little squirmers! It was also that we were sitting at a table near the entrance in the middle of the room in broad daylight. It's always hard for me to concentrate when I feel like we're circling our wagons on the prairie. I definitely get that old urban myth about mobsters insisting on sitting with their backs to the walls. And there was lots of back-&-forthing with the adorably gregarious old guy who, I assume, was the owner.

Me: I take responsibility for all that. Eating at 5pm is now the standard for my family, and we were headed to a nice booth in the back, but I thought the boys would be best entertained sitting by the fish tank up front-- they were, for about five minutes.

MA: The giddiness of the two toddlers who shared our table may have rubbed off on me (Me: That is the nice was to say, "Your babies are fucking nuts!"). Concentrating on food took a vague second – or even third – place to catching up with Denveater, the Director, and the Denver-on-a-Spit family. The other customers and the good-natured proprietor further distracted me.

Me: I liked the first couple of shared appetizers best. It may be that at that point my boys were happily tearing through a plate of fried rice which left me free to indulge my attentions to the dishes at hand, or it may be that that eggplant salad, with its soft, not-bitter-at-all Chinese eggplants, steamed shrimp and fried egg was just a fabulous and unique plate. I have to say, I love a salad where the only greens are a few sprigs of basil.

MA: What stood out to me above the sauces and proteins were a few unique preparations and ingredients that I’d never experienced before. Was the eggplant in that salad pickled, or just cooked to bring out the crisp freshness of a vegetable that generally flaunts its dull, spongy, and mushy attributes? It certainly had the firmness and verve of a farmhouse pickle.

DV: The marinated-eggplant salad with shrimp, strips of sweet omelet, red onion, & basil is the masterpiece here. It's so colorful & unusual: by turns tangy & delicated, sharp & soft, crunchy & silken-textured.

Me: And the same might be said for the fish cakes, though in a different way. The crunchy, thick fried fish mash was balanced perfectly by the fish-sauce-laden spicy cucumber-peanut-cilantro salad that accompanied it. I loved that dish.

DV: I don't think the fish cakes themselves or the fried catfish were quite as successful, simply because they weren't quite hot enough to remain ultra-crisp for long. The potential was there, though—both dishes were put together well, the coating was deft, the flavors clear & bright.

Me: Quite so. I didn't love the catfish for that reason, and in times past, those fish cakes have packed more crunch.

MA: Those quartered bites of Thai green eggplant in the fried catfish also had a little snap, more like a lightly sautéed green tomato, but with just enough meatiness to absorb the heat and pungent flavors of the sauce.

DV: The key difference between mediocre & quality Thai, in my book, is that the latter is surprisingly subtle. People often refer to the importance of balance between the elements—sweet, spicy, salty, sour, bitter—and while I agree with that, I'd add that the ideal result is above all refreshing; the brushstrokes aren't as bold as they are in, say, Malaysian/Indonesian/Singaporean cuisine. Seemed to me Thai Flavor nailed that distinction in almost all the dishes we tried: from the steamed mussels with a vibrant dipping sauce—not the ubiquitous, neon-pink, sweet-chili stuff but just a simple blend of fish sauce, citrus, & fresh chilies—to Mantonat's jungle curry & our seafood stir-fries, which were all exceptionally light, fresh, crisp, & peppery. The seasoning showcased the main ingredients rather than the other way around.

Me: True, though I wasn't overly impressed with the spiciness at Thai Flavor. I did only order "hot" and not "Thai Hot", Nevertheless, the man who seemed to be the owner did give the typical Thai-friendly polite-though-scoffing laugh of caution about ordering too hot, so I expected a little more burn and nasal clearing from my dish. But the jump up to Thai Hot might be exponential. And for an extra fun kick, the one condiment with the mix of red and green sliced peppers was tremendously hot, and so I did get that familiar Thai burn that builds and builds past heat, through pain and to a sort of numbed pleasure-state that I so often strive for when I eat Thai.

Overall I like Thai Flavor a lot, and I still feel like there is a lot on that menu that I want to try. Clearly the specialty is seafood, but most of what we had was so good it would be worth checking out as much as possible on that menu. I have a feeling we'll all be back in this part of town sooner than later, because the allure of international eating variety in that neighborhood is too much to resist.

Eating More Tortas at East Aurora's Tortisimas

2013-03-31T21:58:00.001-06:00

While the torta is almost always found on typical taqueria menus around town, Mexico City-style torterias, with their full juice bars, are happily becoming much more common in and around Denver. When travelling in your local Mexican-centric neighborhood, it's hard not to stumble upon one.

There is nothing quite like the yin and yang of an obnoxiously large sandwich of greasy-grilled meats and freshly blended fruit and vegetable drinks. And given the success of Denver's original torta spot, Tortugas, which seems to always have folks lined up by the dozens, it's not a surprise that torteria numbers are on the rise.

My latest stop was Tortisimas, which my wife stumbled across doing God-knows-only-what deep in the heart of Aurora on Chambers and Mississippi. Tortisimas is another virtual copy of Tortugas, with the same logo on the door (a silhouette of Mexico City's El Angel statue) and appropriately naco touches like this:

While I appreciate tasteless decor as much as the next guy, what I was really there for was a sandwich. So were my boys, who, now two, have learned to ask for tortas by name. It brings a tear of joy to my eye to see them tackle with such ferocity a sandwich bigger than their own heads.

I had a torta with chorizo, chicken and eggs. It was good. It wasn't anything spectacular, but one can't really complain about a big hunk of bread, avocado, cheese and greasy meats--at least until the next day.

My wife's torta was overflowing with cheese, chorizo and mushrooms. The earthy, thick mushrooms cut through the grease of the chorizo very well, making for an excellent and unique combination. Not quite like mushrooms al pastor I was virtually tricked into eating once, though in some ways better because instead of no meat, there was meat.

From my small sample of Tortisimas, I would judge it to be a good torteria and I would be glad to have it in my neighborhood. It isn't exactly destination-torteria worthy, unless you happen to be coming from Kansas and East Aurora is your first contact with civilization. And if East Aurora is your first contact with civilization--well, just be glad you can get a good Mexican sandwich while you're there. But for us locals, the Denver-area has many other options. So what are you waiting for? Go out and support your local torteria now.

Arisen, Albeit not Exactly Shining At Rise and Shine Bakery

2013-03-24T20:23:00.002-06:00

My wife and I are not ones to rise early with a big happy smile, at least by nature. No, we would gladly stay up to 3am watching movies, drinking, eating, or in some other way having fun; and then slowly drag ourselves out of bed somewhere well after 10. But, as much as we have tried, our 2 year old boys will not do the same (the sleeping in part). What's more, they have also inherited what I believe to be a dominant trait: being a little grumpy in the morning. So needless to say, in order to prevent some tragic passing, there are some mornings where getting out of the house as soon as possible is a top priority. And since we have to take them with us, we usually go out to breakfast.

Weekend breakfasts usually involve eating way too much, and there are times we go out so early that sitting down (sitting is also often a problem with 2 year olds) to a big meal is not at all appealing. I know this may shock my regular readers (all three of you), as for the most part I enjoy all forms of gluttony no matter what the meal, but sometimes I don't want to eat all that much.

That is how we ended up at Rise and Shine bakery in the Highlands a few weeks ago on a Sunday morning, just as they were opening the doors. Rise and Shine is housed in Basil Doc's and has done like other biscuit and pizza joint combos and opened for the first part of the day when most people aren't in the mood for pizza.

I have praised the pies of Basil Docs before and the role it plays in a recently lapsed tradition of watching the major league all star game on my porch. Their daytime biscuits are equally tasty. And not that big. And priced just right. The biscuit of the day was Rosemary Olive Oil and was light, flaky, rich and moist. The subtly of the rosemary was lost a tad under my bacon and eggs that I smashed inside, but the whole combo was just right washed down with a slurp of Pablo's coffee.

My entire family chowed down--but not too much--and was noticeably merrier following our meal. So if want to get out for an early meal any day of the week, but don't want that post-Sunday brunch stupor-of-a-feeling--or if you just want a decent biscuit--then Rise and Shine is the place for you.

Want Some Tacos with Your Torta? Saturday Mornings at Torta Grill

2013-03-17T13:51:00.002-06:00

I have become partial to the fine tortas being made and slung by the self-proclaimed guero tortero (and his wife) on 1818 East Colfax Avenue. So much so that I recently procured his catering services for my kids birthday party. The massive pile of foil-wrapped tortas was such a hit that I think some adults even forgot they were at a 2-year-old's birthday party and enjoyed themselves.

Part of my partiality to el guero tortero, who is also known as Steve, is probably his status as a half-Filipino that has come to love and embrace Mexican food. The other part of my partiality is that he makes a mean torta. And his restaurant, instead of trying to make things fancy like so many other non-Mexcians running Mexican food joints, serves a straightforward torta that would rival any on South Federal or East Aurora both in quality and in price. And he's doing it right in the heart of town. So when he asked me to come in and try his newest menu addition before he unleashed it on the public, how could I say no?

Much to my surprise, however, the newest menu addition at Torta Grill is not a torta. It is a taco--three tacos, actually, and they will only be served for breakfast on Saturday mornings. The first two we had were carnitas and carne asada; both served in a single corn tortilla on top of an over-easy egg and drizzled with a bright and spicy green salsa.

It looks simple, and it was. But if you've ever had Steve's carnitas, then you will know you don't necessarily want to have too many other things complicating your lovely little pork chunks. But if you must, the nice green salsa worked well, and so too did the fabulously runny egg. Be prepared for a little bit of a mess with these tacos, but know that it is a mess you won't want to go away.

The steak taco was virtually the same as the carnitas, and although also very good, I much prefer a nice fatty chunk of moist pork over a nub of beef any day, and this was no exception. The last of the trio we tried was in the same format, but instead of meat was a piece of breaded and fried poblano pepper stuffed with queso Oaxaca.

This poblano taco was also rather brilliant. With that fried egg and its velvety warm egg yolk, Steve could put just about anything from his kitchen on these tacos and do pretty well. But choosing this stuffed poblano works especially well I think because of the strong flavors and the different textures. The crisp poblano taste is there, and the egg just adds more richness and depth. OK, I guess I might be getting carried away. Straightforward food deserves straightforward description. Let's just leave it at this: It's a damn good taco. And it's vegetarian if you care about those kinds of things.

You know, besides the rare media dinners I end up attending from time to time, I normally try to go places without anyone knowing I'm there (not that most would care). It's a way to take some bias out of the biased business that is food blogging. So that is supposed to serve as a disclaimer of sorts. Of course I dined at Torta Grill with some level of bias, being that I was invited and being that I think Steve is a great guy and I want to see him do well. That being said, I don't think I have ever had tacos quite like this. That runny egg and those amazing carnitas have me wishing for next Saturday morning already.

This Saturday morning--March 23--will be the first of many more Saturday mornings when you can get your own breakfast tacos. So when Saturday comes around, whether you are still drunk wandering the back alleys of East Colfax and waiting for the liquor store next door to Torta Grill to open--or just like to eat good food, check it out.

A Walk up the Hill and Down to a Basement: Boulder's Thai Avenue

2013-03-10T20:20:00.000-06:00

The Boulder International Film Festival found me in its namesake bubble-like town for only the second time in as many years. I have extolled all the virtues of this paradisiacal niche of forward-thinking uber-athletes and intellectuals in a prior post, so I won't tarry too much longer on that theme except to say that if you were unaware, there are entire sections of Boulder devoted to the development of the next generation of molecular biophysicists, EPA lawyers, aerospace engineers and the like. I am, of course, speaking of the University of Colorado.

The "Hill" if you are not aware, is an area near the Univeristy of Colorado campus where thousands of undergrads live, eat, drink and depending on the time of night, pee then pass out in the street. You might not guess it, and alternatively, it might send chills down your spine, but here lies a representative sample of people who will one day be running the proverbial show.

Luckily, we were there at 2pm on a Saturday afternoon, and most of the Hill's residents were still sleeping. And it was here, in this hub of fraternizing (and sororitizing) that we came upon a small, basement-level food court with an interesting array of multicultural food options.

In a basement food court, one would typically expect to find any number of combinations of national pizza and submarine sandwich chains, yet here, wedged between a Canadaian poutine-slinging operation and a Nepalese joint was Thai Avenue, an independently Thai-owned and operated rice, noodle and curry food counter. We are talking Boulder after all. I think the guy behind the Bubba Chino's counter had a PhD.

Thai Avenue, as it were, is nothing more than a counter to place and pay for your order, and behind that a simple and well-used (though clean) kitchen. We ordered from the friendly woman, and after paying she turned her back to us and set to work on our meal. After a few flashes of the pan my wife's pad Thai was placed on a tray and we were beckoned forward. She ordered medium spicy and though not spicy at all, it was a tasty, well-seasoned large portion of this Thai standby.

My drunken noodles, on the other hand were boldly spiced (though not tremendously spicy) and packed with large chunks of beef amongst the wide noodles and fresh veggies including loads of bright lemongrass. It was an impressively good version of this Thai classic.

Thai Avenue didn't have a large menu, but my drunken noodles were so good I would readily come back and sample any number of dishes from this underground eatery. It's probably not worth the drive from Denver if it is your sole destination, but if you frequent our Front Range (step) sister city, check them out. And if you're a Thai Avenue regular, please chime in below on the rest of the menu.

Thai Avenue is open Monday to Saturday. Check them out on the World Wide Web or stumble on over to the hill and downstairs for some tasty Thai.

Filling the Void With El Rico Dicho Menuderia y Taqueria, For Now

2013-02-24T20:48:00.002-07:00

As a food blogger who has chosen to write mainly about out-of-the-way and at times little-known places, it is the bitter irony of my online existence that I am by nature sentimental and nostalgic, for it is inevitable that many of the eateries I frequent will close, no matter how good the food (or the story) might have been. Yet despite all the heartbreak, I persevere undeterred, like Hugh Grant after Sandra Bullock in one of their 18 movies together after he realizes that he really can't go on living without her. Except for me Sandra Bullock is a new menuderia y taqueria on Havana and 6th and I knew I wanted her (it) all along.

"Taqueria, please just let me explain."

Such as it were I was in the former home of Tao Tao Noodle Bar sizing up a new wall menu full of Mexican standards. Looking back, I did try and go to Tao Tao not all that long ago, but it was, you guessed it, closed. Even though I'd never slurped back one of their famed xiao long bao, I was still a little sad to see it shuttered so suddenly. And when I saw that it was going to become a menudaria and taqueria, I had to make it back as quickly as I could, if for nothing else than to help it not turn into a cursed restaurant-swallowing hole.

Despite its tagline, I didn't come to El Rico Dicho Menuderia y Taqueria for menudo, as this spicy tripe broth is not as appealing on a Wednesday night as, say, a bleary-eyed Saturday crudo-nursing morning. But Rico Dicho is more than just menudo and tacos, and is a step up in decor and ambiance from your typical taqueria, even if that "step up" means a very literal dedication to the greatness of El Chapulin Colorado.

I met a couple of friends there and we ordered a spread of food that filled every corner of the table. Among the consensus favorites was a rich broth of carne seca. Carne seca translates to "dried meat", and that is exactly what you get. But the Rico Dicho Northern Mexico-inspired version is far from your typical jerky. We were comped a plate of these house made meat strips which we devoured along with a squirt of Tapatio and twist of lime: thin and crispy, yet surprisingly flavorful and not the least-bit chewy.

As for the broth? It was a rich beef broth filled with chunks of now-not-so-seca carne, and was balanced nicely by an assortment of chunky potatoes, carrots, onions and peppers. It was a decadent and hearty dish.

Rico Dicho also serves another typical Northern Mexico plate, called discada. Discada is named for the large disk-like wok it is usually cooked in, and is made up of a medley of chopped meats and veggies. It is much like a Mexico City alambre, but this discada of chorizo, carne asada, salchicha (hot dogs) was worlds better than any alambre I have had in Denver.

Speaking of chorizo (as I often do), it, like the carne seca, was made in house. For that reason we also got a plate of tacos de chorizo and were universally smitten with our choice. Mexican chorizo is like bacon in that one can add to about anything and that thing becomes better. And homemade chorizo on a warm corn tortilla makes for a can't miss taco. We also got an order of barbacoa tacos, in this case, beef cheek. Steamed and shredded beef cheek is a wonderfully rich and silky-smooth way to enjoy a cow, and simply spiced and served on a plain corn tortilla, this version absolutely killed.

I liked El Rico Dicho enough that I dragged my family back there a few days later for breakfast. My kids wolfed down their eggs, ham and beans; and I made my way through an enormous portion of an only average plate of chilaquiles made with too-thin tortilla chips that got overly soggy in what otherwise was a nice and spicy tomatillo salsa.

My wife ordered huevos de machaca, or scrambled eggs with carne seca. The carne seca was liberally proportioned with the egg, so that it might well have been called carne seca con huevo, and just like a few days before, this delicate and delicious dried meat was again the star of the meal.

I was impressed with almost everything I had at El Rico Dicho, save the lack of liquor liscense (it's coming) and the so-called huarache. The masa was way too thick and the size far too small, the carnitas dry and flavorless and the toppings (jack cheese and green chile included) would have been more at home on a smothered burrito.

El Rico Dicho has a large menu like many taquerias do, and just like many taquerias, it is likely that not everything is stellar. It seems like the Northern Mexican dishes are their specialty, but in addition to all the other regional Mexican dishes they offered, they also had a full menu of Colorado specialties including a Mexican hamburger.

Whatever the case, it is undoubtedly worth your while to get over to El Rico Dicho Menuderia y Taqueria on 6th just West of Havana and check them out for yourself. If you want a sure thing, focus on anything that uses the house made carne seca or chorizo (and steer clear of the carnitas), but I am sure there are other great options on that menu as well. They haven't been open long, and I'll hope when I roll back up this spring or summer I'll be able to take advantage of their soon-to-come liquor license on their currently closed patio. If not, it will be yet another terrible heartbreak, and I don't know how many more I can take even though I know there are many more to come.

Celebrating Three Kings Day with Rosca de Reyes from El Paisa

2013-02-19T22:11:00.000-07:00

Christmas has been over for a while I understand, but this blog is not known for its up-to-dateness, and given that the Christmas holiday starts so long (so, very, very long) before the actual day, I think I am allowed some leeway in getting around to writing about it. So bear with me if you care to reminisce on this Christmas past. I have mixed feelings about the day, for no matter how much I love kicking back with my family on Christmas, it's hard to get away from the chaotic spree of corporate-driven consumerism that shapes our holiday world from sometime after Halloween all the way through the end of the year. And then imagine you are one of the forgotten folks that don't even celebrate the day: it must be either extremely amusing or endlessly frustrating to look in on our imposing madness.

I did have a pleasant Christmas as I usually do, but my twins are only two, and I hope the day doesn't come when one of them (or both of them, that is always worse) ends up in a tantrum on the floor because of a present he didn't happen to get. I know much of this will probably have to do with how good a job I do raising them (which is why I am even more worried), but it's hard to deny the expectations that our Christmas culture gives to kids. That is why, I am all about Three Kings Day, and have been making the lobby in my house to make it even more exciting than Christmas.

Three Kings Day is January 6, and is called so because it was the day Jesus was supposedly visited by the three magi (don't worry, I too forget that our modern Christmas holiday has anything to do with a story about a man born 2000 years ago that preached a life of poverty and sacrifice). It is also called the Epiphany--or was that the name of the South Park episode where Jesus and Santa finally made peace? I can't remember.

Anyway, there is a tradition of leaving one's shoes out and waking up to find them filled and/ or surrounded by presents, left by the three kings. No trees, no lights, or lawn reindeer needed--just an old pair of your clodhoppers. My wife celebrated in this way, in leiu of Christmas, for much of her youth, or that is, until the great white Santa invaded Mexico as well. My dad, too, celebrated this way in the Philippines. It's still gift giving I realize, but without nearly as many expectations. It's just a few old dudes on horses after all--not the wizard-like CEO of the world's biggest sweatshop.

That was my long and preachy way to get at this: every Three Kings day in Mexico revolves around a special cake, or rosca, a large ring of pan dulce adorned with gummy worm-type candy and loads of sugar. In it are stuffed any number of little plastic baby Jesuses. Tradition goes that whoever cuts into the cake and gets a plastic Jesus brings the tamales to the next holy party on February 2nd.

We got our Rosca from the still-not-burned-down-again El Paisa bakery on East Colfax--which has since its fortunate resurrection once again become my go-to panaderia. The rosca was large though we picked out the medium, and we threw down on this surgary Jesus-loaf in a very non-Christ-like gluttonous manner. It was great. I recommend picking up on this tradition as well, if for no other reason but to enjoy your own rosca.

Eating World Class Vigaron in Nicaragua

2013-02-09T21:39:00.001-07:00

I was fortunate enough to recently travel to Nicaragua again, a truly wonderful country that seems primed for a tourist explosion as the country's long history of violence fades from the memories of nationals and foreigners alike. But I'm not here to wax prosaic about the tragic story of Nicaragua's not-too-distant suffering under the boot of Reagan's imperialist paranoia, but rather to talk about food.

It's hard to talk about Nicaragua, however, without making mention of its decades of war and its notorious rank near the top of the poorest countries on this side of the globe. And when talking about the cuisine it's hard not to think about the rationing they went on in their tumultuous past. It is in that context that I introduce what is often considered Nicaragua's national dish, vigaron.

Vigaron is a delightfuly simple dish consisting of cheap and readily available ingredients. Some might call it "peasant food," but I tend to prefer less paternalistic terms, so let's just say its something that bridges all class divisions. The point is, there is nothing fancy to vigaron: a bed of boiled yuca covered by shards of chicharrones and topped with a cabbage and vinegar salad.

The one I had also had a fresh tomato and shredded carrots, but the main plate is so utterly simple--and most importantly--delicious. The soft, tasteless tuber is a perfect bed to sop up the flavor of the slaw, and the contrast of the crunchy pig skin is a perfect compliment. Each paired combination of the three main ingredients is good, but scooping slaw and yuca onto a mouth-sized chunk of chicharron is truly great.

Nicaragua is many things and food is not the first thing that pops into my mind when I am going there. But every country or culture has its own simple, universally loved foods, and in that category, vigaron is world class.

Trains Trains Trains! Breakfast Inn and Dinner Too

2013-02-03T13:48:00.001-07:00

Having kids changes life quite a bit, and it is easy to find solace in the mass produced and repetitious. It's hard not to shop at the big baby chains and it's almost impossible to find toys not branded by some famous cartoon character or other, but it is not all that hard to keep eating well and expose kids to a wide variety of foods. That is why I was so disappointed to read a list of Ten Great Denver Restaurants for Kids posted by our own Denver.org website that, while it has one or two good picks, embarrassingly directs would-be visitors away from our dynamic and diverse local food scene to several national chains and one truly awful place no being capable of exercising free will should be dragged to more than once.

Not to worry, I am not going to turn this blog into into a toddler-focused eating guide, nor even bother to create a list of my own, but so numerous are Denver's family-friendly eateries that I only have to mention one of the last places we ate as a family: the Breakfast Inn and Dinner Too.

The Breakfast Inn is everything you would expect out of a tried and true, classic diner. It serves all three squares any time of the day. It has a crew of über-profressional no-nonsense servers and its menu is everything you would expect (and maybe a little bit more) from a classic Colorado Diner. I say "Colorado" because as you may not realize if you are from Colorado, not every diner across the US has green chile on its menu, or for that matter a wide array of Mexican dishes.

Breakfast Inn, of course, does have green chile and serves it three ways: vegetarian, mild and spicy. I got the spicy, smothered over a breakfast burrito of eggs and potatoes with a side of bright, fresh, cilantro-heavy (in a good way) red salsa. The burrito was a mess of eggs and potatoes--hard to go wrong. The green chile was the star and it was pretty damn good: Colorado gravy-style and respectably spicy.

My wife had cheese blintzes which she absolutely loved. They were more like cheese-filled donuts, but I loved seeing this Eastern European-inspired dish on the same menu as my green chile. The next logical step of course would be to offer them smothered in green chile--I can't imagine too many restaurants are doing that these days.

Oh, and as far as the whole kid-thing goes, it was great. Because there was a train. There is nothing more exciting right now in my sons' lives than trains. At the Breakfast Inn, there is a model train looping the entire East dining room. Each time it came around (after they had stopped craning their necks to see it all the way around) was a squeal of delight and sometimes even applause. My wife and I were actually able to chew our food, breathe between bites and even carry on a little conversation.

I loved the Breakfast Inn. Partly because I don't get to enough diners these days and so it was almost a novel experience. Partly because the name is in the category of simple, descriptive no-nonsense names. (I can almost imagine the day they decided to add dinner to the menu and weighed the new name options with the cost of a new sign.) But in the end I loved it because my kids loved it and I still got to eat good food. I don't know if I would recommend it to a visiting out-of-towner, but I certainly wouldn't send them to the Cheesplace Chain. They don't have a model train and more importantly I bet they don't serve green chile. So, Denver.org, it would be nice to dig a little deeper next time you make a list like that.

In my opinion there are very few Denver restaurants that are not friendly to kids, though some certainly have more to offer. Just off the top of my head, we have had great experiences over the years at Hi-Rise, Ernie's Pizza, Empanada Express Grill, Frijoles Colorado, Buenos Aires Pizzeria, Vine St. Pub, Highland Tap, Second Home, and almost without exception, each and every family-run Mexican joint, because in Mexican culture, kids are king.

Having kids sure changes life a lot, but one thing that doesn't need to change is eating good food.

Oh My, LoHi: Loncheria Mexicana has Closed, but La Mexicana Taqueria is Still Around

2013-01-10T20:46:00.001-07:00

Long before the LoHi nickname became commonplace, 32nd and Zuni was one of Denver's great old school corners. OK, it still is a great corner, though in a much newer way-- and anytime a neighborhood gentrifies as quickly as this one has, old businesses shut down and new ones open up that completely change the face--and soul--of a neighborhood.

For example, now gone for some time is a place I wrote about just a couple years back: Loncheria Mexicana, which served, among other Colorado Mexican standards, a quality, smothered carne asada burrito. The funky, small space sits unoccupied again, but I can't imagine anything quite as--well, Mexican-- will replace it. There is nothing necessarily wrong with that, but it's worth pointing out--and thinking about: a unique, diner-style, family run Mexican lunch spot is gone for good.

Closed and Closed again

Looking back some years, the Aztec Sol was one of the first attempts at some of this gentrification-- a sort of edgy mix of Mexican bar with a large tequila selection and a few modern twists to try and attract some of the newer and younger residents. It was actually a nice attempt to blend the old with the new that was inevitably coming, but sadly it didn't make it, and now in its place is the perfectly fine, but slightly plain, Highland Tap. Our friends, who live just steps from what was Aztec Sol and is now Highland Tap, had a stray bullet hit their house seven or eight years ago. They sometimes joke about preferring the old sounds of occasional gunfire to the continuous parade of loud drunks leaving the Tap at two in the morning.

Of course flying bullets are not something anyone should have to live near, and besides less random violence, gentrification has also meant a slew of great restaurants and options for families that never existed before. But when a neighborhood starts to lose everything that it once was in a period of just a few years, it's hard to think that is good either.

Enter Mexicana Taqueria which, despite having its adjoining mini-mart turned into a trendy bike shop, sits undisturbed. It's not historic like some of the disappearing Italian joints that also dot the hood, but it's been around since 1996, which is like ancient history as fast as Denver has been growing over the past few decades.

I hadn't been to Mexicana since starting this blog, so we did a slow drive-by before heading in just to make sure it was still there. Gladly, it was. La Mexicana Taqueria is the kind of place that greets you in Spanish. The clientele also mostly speak Spanish. Although, incredibly friendly and welcoming, there are little to no attempts to cater its menu or services to anyone other than those coming in for a good meal of unpretentious Mexican.

We had never been there for breakfast, and rolled in just as it was opening (8:30am) with babies in tow. The breakfast menu is rather small at La Taqueria--just five items--with four being egg dishes like huevos rancheros, and one a plate of cheese enchiladas covered in fried eggs: enchiladas montadas. I ordered that and it was pretty damn good--though one egg was fried over-medium and the other came out over-hard, but the red salsa was excellent.

My wife, in a half-asleep homage to her new-found Colorado Mexican side, ordered tacos dorados, which came out, of course, as three fried tortillas in a half shell, filled to the brim with shredded chicken and topped with lettuce and crema.

Being Mexican Mexican, she was expecting little rolled-up taquitos or flautas; but apart from the shape, they were the same thing. And they were actually very good. The tortilla was freshly fried and the chicken, which is often so plain in many taquerias, was well-flavored and moist. The highlight, however, and what I remember from my other trips to this restaurant, was the table salsas.

In particular there was a dark green, smoky, roasted salsa that killed. I ended up making a taco out of my enchilada (with part of my boys' tortillas) and dousing it in this salsa it was so good. (Speaking of, why aren't there more tacos de enchiladas?)

Breakfast, with its limited selection, is probably not the best meal to enjoy at Mexicana Taqueria, but the place was starting to fill up when we left. However I do remember loving a smothered burrito, a chile relleno and a plate of tacos I had there years ago. I, for one, like it enough that I will visit again soon--though I must admit it will be in part because I just want it to keep being there too.

Places like the Mexicana Taqueria are fading away fast, and they offer the potential to be a bridge between the new and the old in a quickly changing neighborhood like LoHi--and what better way to build bridges than over a plate of enchiladas? (Or down the street at Panaderia Rosales over some freshly baked pan dulce?) Gentrification is inevitable and entrepreneurship via capitalism is not at all sentimental or nostalgic. That being said, patronizing places like this taqueria--which makes great food at great prices--is a way to keep some of that old flavor around. That might not be important to everyone, but all too often we don't know a good thing until it's long gone.

A Night of Unforgettable Enchiladas: Is Tarasco's My Favorite Mexican Restaurant in Denver?

2013-01-05T21:47:00.002-07:00

A couple of months ago my wife asked me where I would like to have my birthday dinner. Table 6? Frasca? Insert fancy restaurant name here? Almost without hesitation I blurted out: Tarasco's. She laughed a little but understood, and proceeded to secretly call the owner to try and set up a surprise private birthday tasting menu, and make sure they would have enough room in their small dining room for us and eight or ten of our friends. When he kept speaking to her in English, she told him she was from Mexico as well. "Oh," he told her, "Only Americanos call to ask questions and make reservations. Just come in and and we'll set you up."

If you don't already know, Tarasco's is owned and run by young and affable Noe, a native of Michoacan, a place rich in culinary tradition and well-known for its mole. Tarasco's has, without a doubt the best assortment of moles I have tried in Denver-- and while I can't say for sure they are the best in town, they are good enough that I have stopped looking elsewhere.

We were seated in the middle of the small and homey dining room. My lovely wife quickly negotiated the first courses that started with a cup of Tarasca soup, a typical dish from Michoacan made with a base of beans, cream and tomatoes, but with a smoky depth, hint of heat and crisp freshness unlike anything I've had in a long time. An amazing way to start what would be an unforgettable feast.

Next was a very good cup of red pozole. It lacked the goodness and rich flavor that comes from a slow-cooked pigs head like the best of Mexico City's pozoles, but it was good nonetheless.

Our next plate was a quartet of grilled nopales, of course. My wife is enamored with this hard-to-find-done-right-outside-of-Mexico dish, and the Tarasco's version is indeed stellar. It was polished off in no time and served as a nice build-up for what was to come.

Here is where the night gets a little hazy. After the nopal plates were cleared, a flurry of enchiladas poured through our table. I'm not sure I even captured all of them on film, but needless to say each one was uniquely exquisite.

Let's say we started with the mole verde and the mole siete chiles. I have had both of those before at Tarasco's, though in previous visits it was always poured over a plate of luscious carnitas. Can't say I necessarily prefer the enchilada version more, but the tortilla does provide optimal soaking of the delicious sauce and I even made a couple tacos filled with nothing but the mole when nothing else was left. Incredible.

The mole amarillo was a special that night and again was unique and divine. I believe it gets its color from corn masa and tomatillos, but its taste is layered and complex.

Many moons ago I posted a recipe for enchiladas mineras, a delicious regional specialty of Guanajuato. I wondered aloud in that post if anyone in Denver made them. Now I know. It so happens that one of the cooks is from Guanajuato, so it is with this stroke of luck that they have arrived in Denver on a menu somewhere. If you still haven't tried them, now would be a good time.

The tortillas are soaked in a guajillo-based sauce and the filling includes carrots and potatoes. I make mine with chicken as well, but this simple, common version was every bit as delicious without the meat.

I think my favorite dish of the night came last. It was an extraordinarily simple plate of enchiladas de espinacas. The sauteed spinach drenched in red chile sauce matched perfectly with the crumbled, sharp cotija. The tortillas were soft, dipped in a green salsa and stuffed with more of that excellent--and I mean excellent as in perfect--spinach.

We finished our meal with flan, lovely sweet corn tamales, and a beautiful, tear-jerking spread of churros. The flan was delightful, as was the tamal. In my younger days I could have eaten tamal, flan and the entire plate of churros. But alas, we were here with others, which meant sharing food.

I think a few months ago I said something stupid (ok, I do that every week) about how hard it was to find a good plate of churros in this town. I had completely forgotten about Tarasco's. Now I don't have to worry about overpaying for my churro-fix either.

This was the type of meal where you become sad that the human body has evolved to feel fullness. I could have happily kept eating for the pure pleasure of those delicately balanced flavors dancing on my tongue. But alas the too-slow peristaltic process of digestion signaled the end of yet another meal--but what a meal it was.

People frequently ask me what my favorite Mexican restaurant is. It is such a hard question to answer, in part because what, in the end, is Mexican food in the United States anyway? It can mean so many different things. There is so much to consider and I like the whole gamut, from the green chile smothered, yellow-cheese-topped burritos to a parrillada de pescado to a delicate Oaxacan mole. That being said, if I don't consider taquerias, I must admit that Tarasco's is my first choice for a good spread of Mexican food. And until I come across something better, I am going to say it: Tarasco's is my favorite Mexican restaurant in Denver.

100 Years and Counting: Cafe de Tacuba of Mexico City

2012-12-30T13:03:00.001-07:00

I think it is safe to assume that one hundred years ago things were quite different. That is about the extent of my historical knowledge: a long time ago things were really different than now, and more recently things were a little less different. But in different ways. Deep, I know, but lacking some important details I admit.

Luckily there are sites like Wikipedia, where historically accurate or not, you can find all sorts of information on what was happening 100 years ago. For example, New Mexico became a state in 1912. This may come as little surprise, but I didn't know that. Fenway park in Boston hosted its first baseball game 100 years ago, making it baseball's oldest stadium. That I did happen to know, mostly because it was on TV. And the Titanic both set sail and hit an iceberg 100 years ago. I might have guessed that because I thought Leonardo DiCaprio was looking a little old these days. Wait, didn't he drown? He really is resilient.

So maybe things haven't changed all that much after all. Once again, the internet has caused me to re-think history and facts as I know them: Leo is still flourishing in his acting career, people still venture out on large boats through fields of icebergs, New Mexico is still a state and the Red Sox are still losing to the Yankees. Maybe things are exactly as they were 100 years ago.

This point is reinforced at Mexico City's Cafe de Tacuba, which turned 100 on December 13, 2012. Cafe de Tacuba has always been a favorite of mine, and my wife and I make a point of visiting almost every time we are in the capitol city.

We happened to walk in on the aforementioned anniversary date, and true to its timeless nature, didn't notice anything different about the place: Same straightforward but well-executed menu. Same waitresses and hosts dressed in historic outfits.

Same intricate azulejos tile-work. Same shimmering stained glass windows. Same historic paintings, from a distinguished portrait of the legendary (and wonderful, I might add) poet Sor Juana Ines de la Cruz to gastronomic-themed oils depicting the "discovery" (by Europeans) of chocolate and mole.

We did end up ordering both mole and chocolate--my wife with the latter, a thick-though-light, creamy and decadent hot chocolate Me, a plate of huevos con mole. My mole was fantastic, embodying all the desirable characteristics of a slowly cooked, carefully prepared chocolate-forward mole: sweet, bitter, pungent, rich and ever-so-slightly spicy. I happily mixed it in with my beautifully fried eggs, done Mexican-style, so the bright yellow yolk just warms, but runs every which way on the plate.

They also brought us each a tamal and a little cup of atole, a sweet masa-based hot drink popular around the holidays. The tamales included red and green versions with pork and chicken, as well as a divine tamal de mole.

It was another great meal, made even greater by the fact that they were giving every table a 50% discount as well as a coffee mug marking the historic occasion.

Not too many restaurants last 100 years. Colorado's Buckhorn Exchange has made it 119 years at last count, but these days making through the first year can be difficult enough. As trends come and go and as bubbles continue to burst, it is nice to see the lasting power of a place like Cafe de Tacuba. Next time you're in Mexico City, take a step back in time and visit them. 100 years of doing it right means you are unlikely to be disappointed.

Cafe de Tacuba is located on, well, calle Tacuba just steps from the Metro Allende and a short jaunt to the Zocalo.

From Quezon City to Colorado: A Taste of the Philippines Brings Filipino Food to the People

2012-12-17T11:04:00.001-07:00

It's hard sometimes being a (half) Filipino in Denver. Not in a struggle-for-basic-human-rights-way or anything like that, it's just there aren't many of us around. When a town isn't overflowing with Pinoys it goes to follow that there aren't many Filipino restaurants. At one time I counted three, all in the far reaches of SE Aurora, and now only one stands. Needless to say that it was with great enthusiasm that I finally made it downtown to A Taste of the Philippines a few weeks ago.

As you may know (whether you believe it or not is another thing), I work for a living. And I don't work downtown so I have missed out on the explosion of food carts and other food related things that are happening currently in great numbers that I believe are referred to as trends. This trend of food carts and trucks has gotten a little out of control for my tastes, but every once and awhile, something good comes along. Something like a Filipino food cart.

The first menu item on owner and Chef Kathy Gietl's A Taste of the Philippines menu is chicken adobo. Adobo is a Filipino standard just like a tortilla would be to many Spaniards, or ratatouille to the French. There are many versions and every Filipino's mother, grandmother or other matriarch makes the best one. Gietl's was very good, but true to a my Filipino roots, I must say that my Auntie Cora's is better. Partly I say that so there is no chance I will have my adobo withheld from me this Christmas, but also because adobo is so deeply personal that the one you had all your childhood and life is without a doubt the best one. Still, like I said, Gietl's adobo was very good-- a comforting blend of the strong usual suspects like vinegar, soy and garlic. The meat was tender and the portion large. It would be an excellent introduction to Filipino cuisine for anyone.

Adobo: brown, proud and up front.

The same goes for the lumpia, or fried egg rolls. Auntie Cora's is the best. She makes a lighter but thicker version and uses no meat; while Gietl's is thin, tightly rolled and stuffed with yummy pork. She even makes her own dipping sauce (Gietl, that is). Lumpia is something that everyone likes--and this one is stuffed fried with pork, after all. Don't forget to order a pair if you go.

I missed out on the pancit that day, which was gone after the lunch rush. We did have, however, manok sa gata, a sort of coconut curry a la adobo. My wife, who loves diverse flavors was not a fan of the overall combinations in the dish but I really liked it. All Filipino food is not for everyone.

Gietl was born in Quezon City and her mission, she told me, was to educate as many people as she could about Filipino Food-- and then of course, win them over with her cooking. Seems simple, but I think the problem with Filipino food being more mainstream is that it can be quite obscure, and the diverse flavor profiles can be very different than what the average American palate is used to. That being said, Gietl's cart has a nice variety of introductory Filipino foods that should appeal to just about everyone.

One problem many of the failed Denver-area Filipino enterprises share in common is that they might have tried to market to a Filipino population that really wasn't there. I admire Gietl because she doesn't seemed concerned with that at all. Her mindset seems to be that she is going to open Denver's eyes to the good of Filipino food one person at a time. She's cooking not to fill a niche in a cultural demographic, but rather because she loves it and she is passionate about the cuisine. I for one enthusiastically endorse this mission and will continue to punch my frequent diner card there as often as I can.

Regardless of the loyalties we Filipinos inevitably have to our home cooked meals, A Taste is serving up good versions of tried-and-true Filipino standards. And I, for one, don't get to eat my aunt's food but once or twice a year if I'm lucky, so to have A Taste here in my backyard is a blessing and a big step forward for our cuisine. Check her out. I think you will like it. If you do, go back. Learn. Embrace. Filipino for all!

Check out A Taste of the Philippines on twitter for the latest updates or just get on down there to 16th and Champa.

Fresh Fish in Sayulita: Dining in the Riviera Nayarit

2012-12-12T09:18:00.000-07:00

There has been relatively much travel in the Denver on a Spit household of late. Although when one is ~~burdened~~ blessed with twin toddlers, any venture out of the house may qualify as travel in that it is endlessly tiring and unforgivingly eventful. That has been part of the reason for my slow-to-post ways over the past couple months, and while I don't want to bore my Denver readers any more than I already do with non-Denver news, I really wanted to say something about our most recent trip to Mexico.

We ended up staying in a small town north of Puerto Vallarta that, coincidentally, was just written up by another Denver media outlet that you may or may not have heard of before, 5280. I am speaking of the weirdly enchanting little beach town of Sayulita, that somehow has many of the things I despise about many Mexican beach towns: American and European-ized restaurants and shops--yet has me determined to make it back some day. Having only spent a week there, I can't come to any conclusions, but the non-Mexicans who have moved to Sayulita in droves over the past decades do not seem to be the typical big resort types, though some clearly cannot spell:

The food, alas, thanks to the oh-so-many ex-pats can be both expensive and a little bland. Luckily, however, there is still enough local flavor so as one can dish out about $7.50 USD and eat this, at a classic beachside place called El Costeño:

Two fried whole fish freshly caught that morning, only hours from their last desperate flaps to return to their ocean home-- instead steaming hot on my plate quite literally oozing roasted garlic and oil from their gills--or more specifically, the small slices made through their delicate, now-crunchy skin. This is exactly what I crave when I visit a Mexican beach and El Costeño of Sayulita delivered. It was so good in fact, that instead of risking a less-than-stellar meal at an over-priced "dinning" joint I returned to gorge myself on this same exact dish the very next night. Plus, you couldn't beat the view.

The restaurant again, is El Consteño, if you ever make it down.

Udi's "Tacos al Pastor": The Secret's in the Mushrooms

2012-12-02T20:05:00.000-07:00

Since the ironic font has yet to catch on to the degree that it really should, and it is otherwise difficult to type one thing while meaning another, I tend to make liberal use of quotations marks in my "writing". A recent trip to the Udi's in Stapleton, Denver's newest "neighborhood", provided me with an irresistible opportunity to fill my post with quotation marks.

We were there for "dinner", which in my toddler-run household happens no later than five, usually while my lunch is still digesting. Nevertheless, here we were, and my spider-pig-like pastor sense zeroed in on the following words emblazoned on the wall menu: "Al Pastor Tacos". Before I knew it, I was ordering them and they were on my table.

Of course I didn't have high expectations for my tacos al pastor, being that I was in a bakery, and even more so because this bakery was in Stapleton. Though there are many worthy tacos within a long home-run of Stapleton's borders, this "urban" community is pretty much the antithesis of raw pork marinated in spices roasting on a spit with an open flame. But I did appreciate that there was no purporting on the part of Udi's about having an "authentic" experience; or certainly no mention of "street tacos", as there is in a certain "taco" shop I just wrote about that is about as far from the "street" as one can get while only being a few feet from it.

My tacos were served on what seemed to be a freshly made tortilla. I suppose that should be a given since I was in a bakery, but nevertheless it did not go unnoticed. It was piled high with a good (but unnecessary on tacos al pastor) pico de gallo-like salsa and came with a respectably spicy (something that "street taco" place can't claim) chipotle-heavy "salsa". I poured it over the top and also noticed there were grilled pineapples on the taco as well. Nice touch. I didn't take the time to examine the rest of the contents, as my kids were frantically doing something or other that they probably shouldn't have been doing, and I practically swallowed the first taco.

It was tasty and not bad. I didn't get much flavor from the "meat", but the marinade was surprisingly much more "pastor-like" than I would have expected. After my second taco I took a moment to examine the contents: this was not pork. I remember seeing chicken and shrimp as options on the wall menu, but I didn't pick either of those, so whatever could this be?

My "taco" it seems, was made of mushrooms. When "reading" the menu initially, I overlooked the actual ingredients, because when I see "tacos al pastor" on a menu, I assume that "pork" is involved. You don't say that you want a meat-product in your hot dog bun when you order a hot dog any more than you would ask for a "pork" taco al pastor. However, upon examining the menu a little closer, I saw that the contents were rather clear: crimini and shitake mushrooms.

I "smiled". I never would have ordered this if I knew beforehand it was made of mushrooms, but I'm "glad" I did because, well, I just ate possibly the world's only mushroom taco al pastor. And although I'm pretty sure no vegetarians have made it past my blog's logo, if you are reading this and you don't eat animal flesh, or even if you happen to know someone like that, it might be worth your (or your friend's) while to get over to Udi's and try this freak-show of a "taco". Me? I'll never eat it again--though not because it didn't taste good. It just felt--and still feels--wrong.

Technically I'm not sure a "taco" can be called a "taco" when it was supposed to have pork and didn't. And although some of the flavors were there (and the marinade better than some "real" pastor taquerias), calling it "al pastor" is also a stretch, so let's compromise and add in some extra quotation marks. For the best mushroom ""taco" al pastor" you may ever eat, stop by Udi's for dinner and enjoy.

For the Love of Pastor: I Heart It So Much

2012-11-27T20:38:00.000-07:00

Sometimes we dream of things that if true would overwhelm us to the point where our whole sense of reality would threaten to implode. For example, not too long ago a reader sent me this picture of bigger-than-life intertwining spits of pastor. For several, awe-inspiring minutes I was frozen, mouth agape, while my poor, feeble brain spiraled out-of-control, trying to grasp this wonderful alternate reality. Then I realized that it was a sculpture. Probably for the best.

I haven't had a dream that specifically involved two intersecting pastor spits in the form of heart (what other form would be more appropriate), but I would be lying if I said I had never dreamed of caressing this lovely chunk of meat and--well, let's just stop there, there's no need to get any more specific. Let's just assume that this reader blurred his friend's face in the photo in the same way a face may be blurred to preserve anonymity in some high-profile adultery scandal.

Currently I am trying to figure out exactly where this sculpture might be. My best guess is on the Paseo de Reforma outside of one of Mexico City's world-famous museums. And while I like the idea of art for the people, I imagine this glorious work of art--maybe the best piece of art ever made in the history of the world--has had it's fair share of drool and drunken fondling such that it should really be moved indoors so it may be cherished for generations to come. If not the Tamayo in Mexico, at least the MOMA or the Louvre. I want my children's children to lay eyes on this masterwork (though if they could cop a feel that would be good too).

But first I would like to lay my eyes on it. Do you know where this is? Please let me know. I'm due for a pilgrimage.

And as for my own pastor journeys? I will be back out to try some old favorites over the next year and if I'm able to come across some new places in Denver, you'll be the first to know.

Pinche(s) Tacos Inside: Eating at Pinche Taqueria at Last

2012-11-17T13:40:00.000-07:00

I've said it more than once before, but considering the probability of people reading this blog more than once, I will say it again: I love the mixing of cultures and new definitions of tradition. Such was the open mind that I needed when venturing into Pinche Taqueria for the first time not too long ago. I had eaten at their taco truck the summer it first opened a couple times, and was not overly impressed, but the insane amount of buzz that has been coming out of this little brick box of a restaurant finally proved too much to resist.

It was 2 pm or so on a Saturday, and true to the lore that surrounds Pinche, it was packed. We hovered around for about 30 minutes before being seated and I must say we were looked after very well, wanting for nothing. And luckily enough, we were in the good company of Denveater, who also has just written her own take which I encourage you to check out.

When we finally sat I did a once-over of the abbreviated brunch menu and couldn't help but let out a cynical laugh to myself at these words: "Street Tacos". I realize that in Denver and many other urban centers of these United States there are these new food trucks serving meals on tortillas like braised pork belly with tomatillo crema and other fancy-speak garnishes-- but as much as I like re-defining new traditions, I have a hard time calling anything coming off any of these menus (especially this one, where I sat comfortably warm inside while snow blew unrelentingly out of doors) a street taco. And it's not even about new traditions, its like growing up in Littleton but telling people you were raised in the South Bronx. It's not just a stretch, it's a laughable manipulation of the truth.

But again, good food is good food, and when my first bites of pork belly came out I was salivating at the two large chunks of fatty, perfectly cooked pork belly drizzled in an agridulce (sweet and sour) sauce and pleasantly colored with a bright slaw and a candied clove of garlic. It was very good. But as I took a fork (the first time I have ever had a fork given to me at a taqueria by the way) to my huge chunk of meat I almost forgot the whole thing was served on a pair of corn tortillas. So I scooped it up and ate it like one would a taco, and for that reason I suppose it was a taco, but it was so good without the tortillas, I doubt I would have missed them.

The lengua was equally as succulent, and each chunk has a pleasant sear. It was not unlike the lengua I had at the Pinche truck a couple years ago--covered in a roasted tomatillo salsa, but I could have done without the mayo-like sauce on this indoor version. Much more taco-worthy than the pork belly, and just as tasty.

I also had a breakfast taco with scrambled eggs and more of that lovely pork belly. To give you an idea of how tender and luscious my pork belly was, it was hard to distinguish texture-wise from the light and fluffy scrambled eggs. This was a perfect example of the tortilla actually adding nothing to the dish. In fact, in the picture below it isn't even visible. A big plate of eggs with this pork belly and the tomatillo salsa it came with would be a great brunch plate.

My wife's fish taco was bland and forgettable. The fish was nicely cooked but the slaw, guacamole and pickled onions didn't bring much to the plate. Then again, I had a bite in between tacos of pork belly. Imagine me moving my arms back and forth like my hands were a balance scale and sarcastically saying the following "Pork belly? Fried fish? Pork belly? Fried fish?" Hard to imagine me liking fish all that much in between bites of pork, so maybe it was a little better than I remember.

We finished off with the tantalizing churros con chocolate. Serving churros with a milky chocolate dipping sauce is much more Spanish than Mexican, but that is more of a technicality, not a critique. They were good because they were fried, sweet dough sprinkled in sugar. And for some reason I have had a really hard time finding a really good churro in Denver, so that made these even better.

The tacos at Pinche Tacos brick and mortar spot are more like mostly well-executed small plates that have found their way onto tortillas. And street tacos? Maybe if that street was Rodeo Drive or better, Calle Masaryk in Mexico City's posh Polanco neighborhood. And actually, a place not unlike Pinche Tacos would probably do well there, though the salsas would have to be spicy, and the clientele would be dressed to the nines. Classic Mexican flavors have much room for interpretation, and it is hard to go wrong when one executes this well. For that I will tip my hat to the vision of owner Kevin Morrison and those pinches taqueros working hard in the small, open kitchen. I will still likely continue to sate my taco appetites far from Pinche in my further-East Colfax and South Federal favorites, but I am glad I did finally stop in for a bite.

Boom! La Guarida Cubana Cafe in Park Hill

2012-11-06T22:18:00.000-07:00

While nothing like the food truck boom, the now-dissipating burger boom or even the under-appreciated cupcake boom, Denver is experiencing something of a boom when it comes to Cuban food. If we are talking pure numbers, it might not seem that impressive: two new restaurants this year. But if we are talking percentages, I think we may have about doubled our Cuban-ness in that same time. And if we are talking family-run, home-cooking-like Cuban cafes, the growth is exponential. Boom.

The Guarida Cubana in Park Hill makes for the second of Denver's family-run Cuban cafes, something of a dream come true for me and my voracious Cuban sandwich appetite. I recently wrote about the other (Cuban) family-run joint way over on the West side of town, so it is nice to see the Cuban scales tipping back East, because while I don't ever mind driving across town for a good meal, the closer the better.

La Guarida is a small storefront on the South Side of Colfax near Jasmine that, like many other great restaurants, you could drive right by without noticing if you didn't have a good nose for Cubans (sandwiches, that is). Unlike many of my other senses that are dull, clumsy and largely useless in my advancing age; my Cuban sense is still strong, and I had this place sniffed out even before it was open for business. Imagine my disappointment when I walked up only to find that it wasn't opening for several more weeks. Then, as is often the case these days, it took me several months to make it back and at least another to write about it.

The night we finally made it in, we were greeted by the quiet but cordial Rosell family, owner's of La Guarida, and they motioned for us to choose a table from the small, empty dinging room. Despite the table service, the vibe at La Guarida was that of few frills. The interior was simple: red-checked table cloths and a few pictures of Cuba hanging from the otherwise bare brick walls. I tend to like simple and straightforward in my restaurants, so everything seemed just about right to me so far. We sat and I got busy ordering my Cuban.

When my Cuban came out I was happy to see it stacked with thick-sliced ham. The bread glistened in the late afternoon light and a line of bright yellow mustard popped out from amongst a pair of sliced pickles. A thin-but-not-too-thin slice of grilled pork stuck out from the top. It looked quite lovely.

And it tasted lovely too. Much of what I liked about this sandwich was that it was thick with meat. The bread was decent as well, grilled and pressed to a delicate crisp. It was a more-than-worthy Cuban and reason alone to return.

I got excited when sitting down to write this and neglected to mention that prior to my sandwich I was served this:

This was a chicken empanada. While innocuous as it may look in the picture above, it was undercooked pastry dough (though flaky and light) filled with some of the driest and blandest semi-ground white meat I have ever eaten. In fact, I wasn't even sure if it was chicken or pork. It didn't necessarily taste bad, it just didn't taste. Dipped in the garlicky sauce it came with helped some, but there was not much good to say about this empanada.

My wife's dish, however, turned out to be quite good. She ordered the completa del dia, which was a heaping plate of Moros (black beans and rice), fried plantain and a nicely cooked pork chop.

Though extremely simple and in many ways nothing spectacular, everything was right about this dish, and it was a fine example of Cuban comfort cooking. The pork was moist, the Moros were flavorful and the plantain was fried to perfection. Something I could eat every night of the week.

The boiled yuca we ordered was also good. Again, a simple dish of Cuban comfort. What, in fact, could be more simple that a boiled root vegetable. But it was excellent dipped in the same garlic sauce that could not save that worthless empanada.

We finished the night by splitting a small but richly flavored flan. I skipped the cafe con leche as, I have alluded to in other posts, I really can't stand milk or sugar of any kind in my coffee. I'm sure it's good if you like those kinds of things, but I decided to pass and let the sweet flavor of flan linger all the way home.

La Guarida Cubana is a welcome addition to East Colfax and while it might not measure up to the warm welcome and all-round quality of its cross-town counterpart, it is certainly worth stopping in and sitting down for a helping of Cuban comfort--and, most importantly, a good Cuban sandwich.

On the Road and Eating Tacos de Chicharron Prensado in Pasadena

2012-10-16T21:28:00.001-06:00

"I want to take you to my favorite tacos of pressed chicharrones around here," is the loose translation of what our friend told us after she picked us up from the Los Angeles International Airport last week. To live in a town where you can say that is envious. A town where tacos, I believe, have been known to grow on trees. But there are many things about LA that are not enviable in the least, and I love Denver for what it is--and one of those is that it is not all that big. The downfall of course is I have never once picked someone up from the airport in Denver and said those words that our friend said so naturally that day.

Again, I readily sacrifice a few tacos here and there for my good living in my small-town, but fried-smashed-and-fried again pork skins is something of a fetish of mine. In hindsight, re-reading this post years down the road, I might think to myself that I should have replaced "fetish" with some other, less sexual and creepy word to describe my affinity for these pig hides, but I can't think of a better way to put it at the moment. In Denver I often enjoy this style of swine in my savory Salvadorean pupusas, and I always like it very much, but I would have to think hard back to some streetside vendor in Mexico City to think of a time that I had them scooped onto a warm corn tortilla and sprinkled with cilantro, onion and a spicy salsa.

Our friend lives in the relative quiet of Pasadena, not far, yet-oh-so-very-far--from the bustle of LA. "Taqueria" was not the first thing I had in mind when I booked our trip to Pasadena, much less ones that serve things like cabeza and chicarrones prensados. Yet there we were, just an hour or so from deboarding, ordering a plateful of not only steamy head meat and sizzling pork skins, but also more common taco meats like carnitas and chorizo con papas. Four of them and a drink for under six bucks.

Though sizzling, technically, they were not. In what I will chalk up to practicality for anticipation of a lunchtime rush, the meat, rather than being grilled to order was rather in warming trays behind the counter, not unlike some no-need-to-name burrito chain that us Denverites know oh-too-well.

Despite this school-lunch-counter-like service my chicharron tacos were wonderful. They packed a respectable amount of heat even without the very good red salsa, and were overflowing with pork flavor: Mushy, greasy and fried pork flavor in that order. I had two for good measure.

The cabeza in my opinion was even better than the chicharron. Likely because this already tender meat is served well is this hot-tray format. Whatever the case, it was damn good. The carnitas and chorizo con papa were not particularly memorable, but were good tacos nonetheless.

Out back was the Taquito Mexicano Taco Truck, somewhat of a notorious truck in the LA-area I later learned. I also hear that they grill to order, so that should by definition make it all even better.

I didn't have time to go taco hunting in LA--that wasn't the point of our trip at least. But the point clearly illustrated to me that day was that LA, as I have always known, has tacos oozing from its traffic-clogged, sun-drenched, palm-tree laden pores. And another point, or technically question: Does anyone have any recommendations for chicharron prensados in Denver? Please let me know. Please

Cafe Chihuahua: Come For the Pumpkin Empanadas and Stay For a Meal Since You Made the Trip

2012-10-07T22:21:00.003-06:00

The other day I found myself driving with a car full of fuss and though very near taco-laden region of South Federal and Evans, the thought of trying to eat tacos from a truck in 40 degree weather and trying to keep two surprisingly fast boys from being flattened by a passing car was not at all appealing. I don't mind the cold part myself, but unfortunately when toddlers are unhappy (and even when they aren't) they try their very best to make you (me) unhappy. Mine seem especially skilled at it. It was now snowing. So when we spotted the glow of Cafe Chihuahua against the darkening sky, we didn't hesitate to stop in.

If you grew up in Denver or pretty much any town that has a Mexican restaurant, there is a good chance that from the outside it looks at least a little like Cafe Chihuahua: adobe archways with wrought-iron bars and neon beer signs in every window all tucked away in the back of a small parking lot.

The menu is also much like you might imagine it: extensive--covering everything from grilled seafood to single orders of tacos--and of course, Mexican egg rolls. I am all for dishes like Mexican egg rolls, and when done right, the crispy won-ton wrapper is a perfect match for typical Mexican ingredients. These, however, were not off to a good start being completely unrecognizable as anything resembling an egg roll.

They looked as much like an egg roll as a baseball does a football. In fact, they weren't much smaller than a small football and their oblong shape and dense, bean-packed filling would make for an excellent projectile in a food fight or thrown up on stage during an event where someone on stage really needs a big splat of beans, rice and cheese in his face. If each audience member were given an order, say, at the recent presidential debate we just hosted, it would have been somehow even messier--and a whole lot more worth watching But as far as an appetizer meant to be eaten, it was first: bigger than my entree, and second: much, much worse.

My entree was made up of two stuffed green chiles, battered and fried and filled with cheese. I am really starting to love New Mexican and Colorado chiles rellenos, especially around chile season, as the flavor of a Hatch chile beats rivals that of the typical Mexican Poblano. Plus not much is better that a good smothering in green chile, and the chile here at Chihuahua was definitely above average. The only complaint I had was that I asked for picoso and while there was some picante to it, it was certainly nothing noteworthy.

My wife ordered shrimp adobaba which was respectably spicy, though the sauce seemed to be mostly made up of the Tapatio table sauce. It was a little too vinegary and watery for me, though she seemed to enjoy it for the most part as she was craving something with shrimp.

She also had a tostada de ceviche which was piled high shrimp, octopus and other seafood miscellany cooked in lime juice. It could have been better if it were not so dry, but on a wintry night in land-locked Denver for three dollars and fifty cents, it did the trick.

The real prize was at the end when we were able to get our hands on two freshly baked pumpkin empanadas, that we greedily ate one in the car without sharing a crumb with our poor little boys. Though not warm, the made-from-scratch dough and sweet filling with wonderful, stringy pumpkin throughout was absolutely delicious.

Our experience at Cafe Chihuahua was exactly what we needed it to be: a respite from the cold, a place that wouldn't mind our kids and a decent meal of Colorado Mexican food.

Meat On a Spit I Wish I Had But Instead I Was Working

2012-09-22T23:48:00.001-06:00

A couple weeks ago on a Sunday morning I found myself bleary-eyed--and of all things working-- when I was interrupted by a strange sound coming from my portable cellular telephone. Apparently I received a text message (something I wasn't even sure my phone could do) from a lifelong friend who two years ago sent me my last text message with a picture, that one of a jar full or fried chicken skins. When I eventually opened this message, a picture even more spectacular than that of the jar-o-skins appeared:

With it the message: "Pastor in Bears parking lot." I fumbled around furiously with my keypad: "34443-0-99988666-0-3328-0-444811111". For those of you operating with phones in which you do not have to meticulously thumb through a numeric keypad (I also used a rotary phone until 1998), my message read: "Did you eat that?" The response was negative, but he did report that in addition to the best tailgating food a man could ever want was a stripper pole. And a DJ. That, if you are wondering, is hilarious.

While stripper poles and football are not everyone's cup of tea (I prefer foul poles and baseball), one has to respect (respect is not the right word) the dazzling, overboard display of fans like this. This was opening day at Soldier Field. How did Denver do? Anyone seen any Pastor spits yet? I might become a football fan yet.