Ruth Tobias

You’d think, after a matinee of Django Unchained, the Director & I would have been feeling particularly bloodthirsty upon stopping by the real-dealio Hong Kong Barbecue for takeout on Xmas Day, where the delightful family in charge was tending to 2 other couples of (I’m guessing) my tribal ilk as they dug into heaping platters of roast duck, whole fried fish, & garlicky pea shoots.

But of the quartet of dishes whose every last bite we adored, it was the titular vegetable (pictured on the right) that proved for me the ultimate revelation.

I’d initially ordered water spinach with pickled tofu sauce & jalapeños, but they were out of that, so I got the variation sauteed with romaine instead. Either way, if I’d thought about it too much beforehand, I might have gotten cold feet; after all, it should’ve occurred to me that “pickled” is synonymous with “fermented”—& one of my greatest gastronomic shames is that fermented soy beans, known to the Japanese as natto, absolutely turn me green with revulsion, try as I might to undo the damage done by Steve, Don’t Eat It!’s now-classic diatribe against the stuff.

But as it happens, fermented bean curd is a whole different (non-)animal, not unlike a soft cheese; this source nails the description as “reminiscent of Camembert, with a hint of anchovy flavor.” Turned into a thin sauce, it becomes a sort of Asian Alfredo—creamy & gently funky & spiked with the fresh green zing of sliced jalapeños—to highlight the distinct vegetal heartiness of the romaine, which is so much more obvious when it’s cooked than when it’s raw.

Pictured left is fish-ball curry, also a winner. Likewise relatively thin—the gloppiness one tends to associate with bad Chinese-American fare is nowhere to be found here—the curry was sprightly, dominated by the tang of ginger & onions, & the fish balls addictive, with the texture of scallops but the clear flavor of whitefish & whitefish alone (if they use any filler, it’s minimal). Chunks of red & green bell pepper & celery added a touch of contrasting crunch.

Satisfied as I was, I couldn’t keep my paws off either the Director’s ultra-treyf house-special fried rice with both shrimp & barbecued pork as well as scrambled egg (oy vey, kids) or his minced pork with sweet-potato glass noodles.

You can see for yourself how beautifully 2-toned the gristle-free pork on the left is, & the plump, firm shrimp were no slouches either, but the rice itself really brought it all together—only lightly fried to offer a little toastiness rather than soaked through with cooking oil. As for the dish on the right, it too was all about the slight sweetness of the actual, crisp-fried noodles & their thorough integration with the bits of tender pork & loads of bright carrot & celery—robust to be sure, but surprisingly variegated in effect.

The menu goes on & on, yet the number of concessions to whitebread expectation are refreshingly few compared to the myriad hot pots, congee bowls, & specialties rife with duck’s tongue & jellyfish, gingko nuts & lotus leaf. I won’t be waiting until next holiday season to explore it further.

Damn. For someone who’s always bitching about everybody else’s pork fetish, this here’s a pretty piggy, veggieless roundup. What can I say? These are the dishes that lingered in my memory long after the last bite.

You’ll notice, too, that most of them are relatively simple affairs—things you could practically eat every day. (The links will take you to the posts in which they originally featured.) That wasn’t by design either; I’m a natural-born novelty freak. But perhaps this list, in its comforts, is all the more useful. After the 2012 we all had, we need them.

Foie longjohns at The Squeaky Bean (with renewed apologies for the cruddy photo)

Panzano’s smoked Berkshire pork chop with pumpkin gnocchi, gorgonzola fonduta & cranberry-rosemary marmalade (Actually, this has yet to link to a post, because I had it for the 1st time just last night. But wow, what a winner. Epitomizing chef Elise Wiggins’ lusty style, the meat put a hell of a lot of barbecue to shame, holding court with both the bracing sweetness of the preserves & the saltiness of the cheese sauce—& the gnocchi were just perfect, as if made by someone with air for hands.)

Amala with fish stew at Palace Nigerian & American Cuisine

Bramble & Hare’s Mulefoot rib with pork-skin noodles

Phat Thai’s whole fried tilapia

Pork & beans at Central Bistro & Bar

Sesame-seed paste at Ace Eat Serve (condiments being, after all, the most important food group)

Doughnuts at Tom’s Urban 24 (this comes as a surprise even to me, but so be it—they’re just that swell)

Stuffed buns from Paris Baguette

Mateo’s signature burger, an exemplar of the genre—one I crave more often than I’ve ever craved any burger

You may recall how, in the fall of 2011, I posted at the pace of an escargot while working on the Food Lovers’ Guide to Denver & Boulder, which Globe Pequot released this summer.

And you may have noticed that this fall, I’ve been similarly mum.

That’s because I was slammed with a second GP project, this one titled Denver & Boulder Chef’s Table. The next-summer release will burst at the seams with recipes from over 50 local restaurants, not to mention sizzling photographs from gentleman-chef Christopher Cina.

Look for it, buy it, love it up.

In the meantime, I’ve been doing some soul searching about this here opus. Having made my name as a food writer in Boston over the course of 6 years, I moved to Denver in August 2007 & started blogging in early 2008 as a way to immerse myself in the scene and promote my work at the same time. Though it took a while, I guess I’ve succeeded, with my share of freelance gigs, a full-time job that I love at Sommelier Journal, & 2 book titles under my (now much bigger) belt.

Writing about restaurants will always be my passion. But is this the best outlet, the best format? Of what use are my reviews to readers—those that are left following my absence? Given that I rarely do recipes & that Cafe Society’s got all the news coverage anyone could ask for, are there other things you’d like to see here?

While you & I ponder, I’ll get back to publishing the sorts of posts I’ve been dishing up for 4 years now, but I dunno. Could be time to hang it up or shake it up…

I first went to Leaf a few years back & frankly didn’t much care for it, other than the pretty, airy space, with its blond woods & waterfall sculpture & green-tea ice-cream hues.

Nor was I expecting much from this homely thing.

But talk about deceiving looks. Slathered with vegan rémoulade (essentially a pungent, red-peppery mayonnaise) on whole wheat toast, it stars a lusciously velvety, meaty, nutty patty of portobellos and walnuts topped with melted provolone; bursting with flavor, it barely needs tomato or red onion, though leaves of butter lettuce add a nice touch of greenness.

I’ve been making the veggie-burger rounds lately & this is up there with my faves, along with that of TAG Burger Bar; when in Boulder town, do give it a try.

A few weeks back, Zengo launched a weekend brunch whose terms of service may seem highly irregular in the upscale circumstances: it’s all you can eat & drink for a $35 prix fixe. The average customer had better have a smaller appetite than me, or this set-up won’t stand—after all, we’re not talking about some sloppy buffet of oatmeal & link sausage but small plates that reflect flying restaurateur Richard Sandoval’s vision of Latin-Asian fusion no less than the dinner menu does.

Certainly the theme makes for some adorable hybrids, like salmon Benedict with kimchi & bao (steamed buns) spread with salsa verde, then stuffed with bacon & scrambled eggs, plus a sprinkling of queso Oaxaca.

The latter lacked something in translation—maybe the fillings would cohere better in omelet form—but a little tweaking would be no thing. Fully realized, however, were both the Peking duck chilaquiles & the short rib hash.

In the former (pictured left—click to enlarge), juicy, shredded roast duck, a little pickled onion, guajillo salsa & cotija both crumbled & infused into crema mingled beneath a fried egg atop hot, crisp tortilla chips—the flavors well integrated, the textures layered. As for the latter (right), glistening against glass, the poached egg ruled the roost of shredded beef rib browned with cubed yuca & onion, the yolk enriching the pan drippings.

The last of the sushi roll pictured in back & a quartet of potstickers were just fine if not, sans any Latin flourishes, especially true to style. But overall it’s a saucy extension of the repertoire. Bring on the guava mimosas.

After all the slavish mania surrounding the Pinche taco truck & its brick-&-mortar extension, I finally headed in the other day, salivating at the thought not of what so many have been calling the best meal in town—but rather of the way that I’d relentlessly expose what would surely prove to be an emperor in ludicrously opulent new clothes. After all, the Director—who knows his local taquerias y loncherias inside & out—can barely muster a shrug for the jammed little Colfax joint, despite its shoulda-been-dream location on the ground floor of his office building. A taco purist, he bristles at all the bells & whistles sounding over what he feels should speak straightforwardly for itself in the language of slow-cooked meats atop simply garnished palm-sized tortillas—never mind at the extra charge they entail (chump change indeed).

But here’s the thing: as I’ve opined ad nauseam, authenticity’s a bugaboo. On that score, I’ll only reiterate my belief that so long as you know by heart the rules of the cuisine in question and opt to break them in good faith, you’re golden. The fact that Guy Fieri apparently botched the living hell out of General Tso’s doesn’t mean the Chinese-American neo-classic can’t be a pleasure, however guilty. To put it another way: Olive Garden’s chicken Alfredo pizza, bad; lovingly crafted New York-style pies, though far from the Neapolitan original, good.

And damn it all (the Director’s opinion included), Pinche’s output is mostly very good. In fact, the only item I actively disliked over the course of 2 visits—once joined by Denver on a Spit (DOAS; his take on our meal here) & his missus, once by Mantonat & Amy—was the fish taco (top of picture): the battered pescado bland, cold, bordering on limp. Bummer—but hey, nothing wrong with the creamy slaw, pineapple guacamole & pickled onions surrounding it.

Meanwhile, the tacos de lengua (pictured bottom) ruled. Diced & cooked to a light crisp with a tender chew, the tongue lolls in its own umami richness; neither a dollop of tomatillo salsa nor a sprinkle of raw chopped onion nor an intense squiggle of chile-&-honey-spiked mayo can obscure it, only highlight it. I didn’t try the “green eggs & ham” (top right)—a brunchtime combo of pork belly & scrambled eggs doused in tomatillo green chile—but the pork-belly taco I have tasted,

the sweet-&-sour-tinged “agridulce” with cilantro slaw, a fat clove of candied garlic & a side of jus, is just swoony. That there’s the cotton candy of bacon.

Also a kick in the knickers is the brunch taco called “Pinche hash” (at 12 o’clock on the below-pictured plate). Undergirding those luscious scrambled eggs in green-chile hollandaise is a disk of shredded, browned potato & caramelized onion whose thinness belies its fluffy texture—not to mention its filling of literally mouthwatering, like gland-activating, carnitas. And finally, the chicken taco (at 10 o’clock) is a homey, earthy delight with spinach, salty-sharp cotija & chipotle & sour creams.

No, it’s not inherently, intuitively tacoesque; those toppings would be just as good slopped into a bowl over cilantro rice. But so what? If the big flavor picture’s honest & true—& it is—I don’t care how it’s framed.

That said, ya gotta heart the presentation of the queso fundido—light, hot, fresh chips spilling from the paper bag they’re scooped into.

As for the stuff itself—not a dip so much as a fork-twirl & pull—I vote for the tequila-spiked, tomato-brightened, strangely more flavorful & velvety vegetarian version; DOAS & I couldn’t help but notice, upon ordering the carnivore’s alternative, that the chorizo was lacking compared to that in our neighbor’s order. As a result, it seemed drier & duller. Then again, it was still bubbling, melted cheese, so olé etc..

And the much-ballyhooed churros con chocolate? The slightest hint of grease burn notwithstanding, the airy, buttery interior couldn’t be more winning—frothy, pleasantly bittersweet sauce not even required.

Just as a side note, the salsa trio doesn’t top the samplers at Los Carboncitos, Chili Verde or even Lola Coastal Mexican for zest. But they’re ultra fresh, which counts.

So I’ll be back, happily, with or without the Director.

Though what I really wanted was the “fries with eyes”—fried smelts with malt vinegar aioli & bottarga (dried, cured, pressed roe)—I was trying to behave when I stopped by Euclid Hall yesterday afternoon. A side of roasted spaghetti squash with mushroom croquettes, blistered tomatoes, fresh oregano & Pecorino croutons sounded relatively benign.

So it was, from a dietary perspective; flavorwise, though, it was fierce, spraying rounds of ammo in the form of chopped garlic & chili flakes. Granted, those juicy, earthy, whole-wheaty croquettes softened each blow. What a perfect light lunch.

From Nov. 9-17, Boulder’s answer to Restaurant Week showcases the goods of participating area restaurants in a $26, 3-course prix-fixe format; not all the menus are live just yet, but having just scrolled through those that are, I can tell you where my head’s at:

Arugula’s gone above & beyond—looks like they’ve listed their entire menu, including octopus carpaccio, handmade spinach lasagna & pecan-crusted catfish in vanilla beurre blanc. Not a clunker in the bunch.

At Pizzeria Basta, an appetizer combining burrata & pork belly with leeks & flatbread & an entree of 36-hour short rib with smoked potatoes work for me.

Bramble & Hare is serving up head-cheese terrine with apple butter & a stout-infused chicken pot pie with an oatmeal-&-cracklins’ biscuit, be still my gut, as well as the mulefoot pork I lost my mind over a while back.

Pumpkin fritters with aioli at Cafe Aion. Come on!

The menu from The Kitchen [Upstairs] sounds even better than the one being offered in the dining room, what with celery-root custard in brown butter & cavatelli with golden raisins & sauerkraut.

Mateo, however, may have just clinched the deal: Mushroom bisque with blue cheese; pumpkin gnocchi with cranberries, hazelnuts, mushrooms, cognac & sage (!); apple pound cake with cheddar gelato (!!).

Plenty more where all that came from—plus, if you do it in a jiffy, you can enter to win a free meal. Yay!

Let us count all the obstacles Tom’s Urban 24 had to overcome to impress me at a media preview Fri. morning: 1) American-style breakfasts bore me; most egg dishes leave me cold, and my sweet tooth, limited as it is even come dessert, positively shrinks into the cavity before dinner. Also, bacon shmacon. 2) While I recognize that eponymous owner Tom Ryan’s résumé is remarkable—apparently he invented Pizza Hut’s stuffed-crust pizza and McDonald’s McGriddles before founding Smashburger—my assiduous avoidance of all things franchised means I’ve never experienced any of its highlights for myself. 3) I was resoundingly hungover.

But like that, like that, like that, the Samba Room’s replacement on Larimer Square cleared those hurdles lickety-split. Provided the kitchen can realize the potential it showed today on a 24/7 basis, treating paying customers the way it treated us, this place is gonna be a huge hit.

The look skews retro,

but the mural reveals a thoroughly modern concern for local sourcing (those commodity-shaped magnets can be moved around to indicate where the ingredients are coming from at any given time).

Admirable as that may be, it pales in comparison to the use of that most massive of mass-produced foodstuffs, boxed cereal, as a squealingly delightful topping for warm, fresh, stickily glazed doughnuts whose airy-crumbed texture & lightly buttery savor was utterly dreamy. Flavors will change daily, but I adored the Cap’n Crunch embedded into white icing (ditto Froot Loops); the chipotle-chocolate—rich but not too sweet, the heat filtering through subtly toward the finish; & the maple-bacon, which, yes, even I appreciated for its 2-toned lusciousness. Unresponsive sweet tooth, melted.

All the further by housemade Pop Tarts, whose fillings—both sweet & savory—will also rotate on a daily basis; we tried vibrant apple, strawberry, &, my favorite, the deeply intense, at once dark & creamy fig & goat cheese. But here too, it was the texture of the pastry above all, tender & delicately flaky, that won me over.

Pancake flavors will change daily as well, from red velvet & poppyseed-lemon to pumpkin spice & banana-caramel (pictured); I didn’t try this stack, but Eater’s Adam Larkey was practically swooning.

Pal @MO_242‘s Treehugger Benedict with avocado & (added) bacon was perfectly respectable,

but my 4-egg chorizo-&-green chile omelet was even better, I thought. Yet again, texture made all the difference; the dry ingredients—chorizo, green chile, blue-corn tortilla chips—were chopped as fine as confetti, while the 3 cheeses oozed out from every angle, giving the springy, fluffy eggs an almost casserole-like aspect (as Mo rightly pointed out). The jam is made in house—with butter. What?!

A quick glimpse of the corned-beef hash, clearly chock-full of veggies.

In short, color me happily impressed indeed, and hopeful that quality control will remain a high priority. With the start of the film festival next week, believe you me I’ll be heading back for walnut-bourbon caramel corn, matzoh-fried chicken with green chile gravy, & maybe even a WTF cocktail or 2 just for giggles (look it up). See ya there.

Neon graffiti murals & chalkboards in the bathroom lend a lively, DIY community vibe to the burger joint formerly known as Madison Street—one that’s underscored by Troy Guard’s mix-&-match menu of 6 patties & 15 topping combos, plus 17 à la carte toppings, from goldfish crackers to Cheez Whiz to what I suspect is a frico-like “parmesan chip.” (You can also opt for butter lettuce instead of a bun, or even skip the burger altogether & load a baked potato instead—now that’s using your noggin, Guard. Love me a good spud.)

So, for instance, you could order a turkey patty Ménage à Trois style, topped with Grey Poupon, Gruyère & French onion-soup style onions. Or a salmon patty à la Lady Gaga, with burrata, tomato, basil & balsamic-vinegar glaze. Or daily-ground beef done Colorado Proud—smothered in local goat cheese, wildflower honey & green chiles. Looking forward to all those—not to mention a baked potato Andrew Jackson (for a $20 premium, as the name suggests): house-cured pork belly, fried-chicken skin, fried egg, truffle aioli, bone-marrow salt & mustard-vinegar slaw. Holy moly.

After all, what pal Adrian Miller (@soulfoodscholar) & I actually ordered at the preview dinner on Monday night showed the crew is ready to bring it, starting with kimchi laced with scallions & carrots that wasn’t overpoweringly spicy but did show funky fermented depth. (That cheapo Nicaraguan lager, by the way, hit the spot with its creamy tones.)

Potato bites let us have our brunch-style fare (which TAG Burger Bar will also be serving, complete with a spin on Hawaiian staple loco moco! awesome) & eat dinner too: a mess of cubed, browned potatoes smothered in cheese, smoked bacon bits, scallions & spicy ranch. A no-brainer: junky, gooey, fun.

Truth be told, I’m not a huge burger buff, so tend to gravitate toward the sideshows more than the main event at venues like this; in fact, I was half-tempted to throw in some BBQ brisket nachos, fried pickles & an order of mac-&-cheese topped with Cheez-Its & call it a night. But I’m glad I didn’t, because the stars earned their top billing, from Bluepoint Bakery‘s sesame-seed buns—chewy & flavorful in themselves—onward.

If I do say so myself, my pick—the Godzilla burger with an edamame-based veggie patty—was an umami-rich natural, the latter’s fresh green notes brightening the smoked Japanese mayo, teriyaki sauce, meaty shiitakes & “tempura crispies” (basically fried-dough bits, so what’s not to dig?).

I also loved what I took home for the sickly Director: the Los Chingones buffalo burger packed a KO punch with griddled cotija cheese, black bean purée, Cholula aioli, Baja-style coleslaw—& the kicker of chiccharónes. Come on, you can’t fight that.

Adrian’s Dock of the Bay lamb burger with classic rémoulade looked pretty plain, so I skipped the pic, but in its relative simplicity it proved that, beneath all the bells & whistles I’m a sucker for, Guard has the fundamentals down pat: the lamb patty, tinged pink & dripping juice, was perfect, its smear of creamy caper sauce just icing on the cake.

Speaking of cake, we also split a couple of desserts: deep-fried Oreos

& the ubiquitous molten chocolate with raspberry sauce.

Both were fine; I tried the latter only to humor Adrian’s sweet tooth, having been sick unto death of the thing for years. But I get that I’m outnumbered by the world’s chocoholics; so long as it’s adequately prepared, then, a bite or 2 every now & then is okay by me. This was. The batter on the cookies was a little thick & doughy, but that’s a quibble that sounds ridiculous even to me—it’s hard to complain about such a blatantly guilty pleasure.

Besides, this is a burger bar, not a dessert bar, & I think Guard was right to transform the old neighborhood watering hole according to a more focused concept. The results are better in quality than those of HBurgerCO, the choices more delightfully elaborate than those of Park Burger or Larkburger (both of which I like, mind you). So yeah, looks like he’s done it again.