2005-07-19 - 1:21 p.m.
So like I said, the primary activity with N. is not suitable material for my PG-rated blog and it would be incredibly tacky and uncalled for to recount it anyway. But a distant second fun activity has been eating out. I should probably pace myself better, as I could quickly go broke taking her out, but I can�t really think of a better way to go.
She appreciates it tremendously. As I�ve heard (apparently it says this in the godawful and unread-by-me Men Are from Mars, Women Are from Venus), women want to be taken care of and men want to be appreciated. I don�t really buy broad generalizations like that, but it is kind of nice feeling that my partner thinks I�ve done a good job. Y�know?
The first evening I was there, we went to check out low-price happy hour at Dazzle Jazz Club. I was a little concerned that it might come off as somewhat cafone to hit the bargain dinner our first night, but she insisted she wanted to go and they had really good food. The shrimp ceviche was surprisingly tasty, considering there ain�t no coast around here. We also got delicious pork empanadas, buffalo meatloaf, and a huge bowl of olives. $5 each, can you beat it?
It was also happy hour for drinks. I had several and N.�s noted amusedly that I�ve gotten drunk basically every day I�ve been here. Like I said, I�m kind of a lightweight these days, but N. pointed out that that makes me a cheap date. And I do attempt to drink as hard as I can. You know, the old college try.
Tuesday we had lunch at a Mexican place. Mexican food in Denver is really good, probably since there are a lot of Mexicans here. I think I got chicken enchiladas. I started my drinking for the day with a margarita. That afternoon, we got a bottle of Disaronno and had amaretto sours at home. Kind of a girly drink, I know, but I like them a lot.
That night, we had a fancy dinner around the corner from her at Emma�s Restaurant. We had the tastiest pork belly appetizer (probably my favorite cut and she�d never had it before), just the right amount of salt and fat. I ordered rabbit with quinoa. This was kind of a mistake, as rabbit has a whole lot of little bones to cut around and I�m not very good at using a knife anymore so it took me a long time to eat.
Although possibly because we were in their sparsely-attended restaurant for so long, they brought a free refill of my wine (shoot, I drank a lot that day). We had the most luscious peanut butter cr�me brulee for dessert. Yum. We were sitting in the more accessible downstairs area, but I didn�t get the feeling we were missing some crowd upstairs. I really don�t understand why they�re not more crowded; it was all really tasty food.
On Wednesday, before our museum visit, we had a Thai fast food lunch like I said. N. had rehearsal that night, so I went out with Jake and we had dinner at a Korean/Japanese place. He got a big sushi boat, but I just can�t get over my suspicion of seafood out here (I know the fish is flown in the same as everywhere, but still), so I stuck to short ribs although I did have a few pieces.
And sake, of course. We continued our drink at a bar just down the block. It was a very lowdown kind of place, like outer-boroughs bars from when I was a kid. Neon Budweiser signs, pool table in the corner, ashtrays everywhere. And not in a kitschy, ironic way. It really did seem to be like that. Our drinks were super cheap. N. came later and we all did shots of a top-shelf tequila made by Sammy Hagar, one-time Van Halen frontman. Who knew?
Thursday, N. made me brunch. Bacon and French toast with strawberries and cream she whipped herself. I can�t explain how happy being cooked for makes me. I�ll think this through to articulate in another entry, promise. That night she hosted a party on her huge, beautiful roof deck. It was to commemorate things we�ve survived and in honor of her friend who�s been living with AIDS for 15 years. Fuck yeah. We got really trashed and smoked up and snuck off to the bedroom, discretely charging Jake with wrapping up the guests.
Friday, we were sort of too distracted for lunch, so we were really hungry by the time we went to our nicest dinner so far. Like most of the places we�d gone, Table 6 is right in her neighborhood. It was so nice. We both had delicious Colorado lamb medallions with lamb sausage. We also got a bottle of a California wine called �Big Ass Chard�. Indeed. There was a pane cotta dessert that was so delicious that N. realized she had to learn to make it at home. Overall, it was both of our favorite meal.
Saturday, we took the bus to the 16th Street pedestrian mall and had lunch at the Appaloosa Grill. It�s owned by restauranteur-turned-Denver-mayor John Hickenlooper. This career path reminds me of nineteenth-century saloon keeper/politicians (I think they figured, since everyone knew their name anyway, might as well capitalize on that and get the votes). It�s sort of a shame most politicos don�t come like that anymore.
I got a pulled pork sandwich that wasn�t very good. It was the same overly-sweet, faux Kansas City-style junk that unfortunately passes for barbecue in most places in America. Bennigans-ish. I have in my mind that Denver is a barbecue town, but it�s really mostly not. At least N.�s veggie burger was hard to mess up and we did get nice drinks.
The food may have been unspectacular, but they did have a matchbook for me. I�m a dork and I collect restaurant matchbooks. All the places we�d gone before however didn�t have them when I asked. There�s not even a public smoking ban in Denver like in New York or Boston (or now Providence). But the fancy places we went were smoke-free and the cheap places were, well, just too cheap to carry matchbooks.
N. went to rehearsal and Jake (who met us there) and I went to a second lunch at a place down the street. I got some green chili (apparently a Denver staple) just to have something to occupy myself while Jake ate lunch. They freaking carded me and I had no ID, so no drink for me. I mean jeez, I�m going bald.
I went to N.�s show that night at midnight. It was the �blue� show with dirty jokes. I was very impressed that N. turned an uncharacteristically crude comment I�d made into comedy gold. It was a skit about sadomasochism; it�s sort of hard to explain. I went to drinks with her and her cast afterwards, but I didn�t even get through one beer before they swept my mug away to close up. Ah well.
N. came over to Jake�s with me, but had rehearsal all day Sunday and left early. Jake and I went to a caf� (not a Starbucks, although he has no compunctions about them) and sat outside bleary-eyed in the sun. We had dinner at his favorite bar. A very cool bartender there who knows him claimed there was truth to the urban legend that Mormon girls have anal sex to preserve their �virginity�. This has also been turned into comedy gold by N.
She wrote a �public service announcement� with a heart-to-heart conversation between mother and daughter:
�Mom, Tommy�s been pressuring me to have sex. But I want to stay a virgin. What should I do?�
�Why just give him your ass, dear!�
�But won�t that hurt?�
�Lube and prayer, honey. Lube and prayer.�
Yesterday, Jake was asleep until late, so N. and I went to lunch at the Broker Downtown. It�s in an old bank vault, but with the red 1970s carpet and schmaltzy piped-in music (lite love songs of the late-70s and early-80s � think Crystal Gale and Lionel Richie), I felt like we were in a �fancy� provincial restaurant in 1980.
They do have a lunch menu with the same prices from when they opened in 1972. I got the trout, which was unexceptional but from a Colorado stream. N. got the veggie quiche. After we ate, it was happy hour (it seems to always be happy hour somewhere in Denver; this is like the drinkingest town) so we stayed and got really smashed. They didn�t even charge us for the last couple of drinks (perhaps crip sympathy or perhaps trying to lure back first-time customers).
I don�t even remember how we got home. N. presumably pushed my chair, but we�ve both blacked it out. There is more tasty stuff to be eaten over the next few days while I�m here and much more, uhm. Well. You know.
� 2005 Geoff Gladstone
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