<![CDATA[Boulder - Weekly - Restaurant Review]]> <![CDATA[Latin health food]]> Most dishes here are South American, with a particular focus on Venezuela and Colombia. Arepa, a cornmeal cake stuffed with a variety of fillings, is a signature offering here. There's also bean and rice bowls served with salsa and smooth Venezuelan guacamole, as well as fried yucca root appetizers.]]> <![CDATA[More than meets the eye]]> better of it and quickly return to dicing arugula for salad. But I wasnít thinking about Farmerís Market greens and severed anatomy. Nah, I had a big question that led me all the way down the Diagonal to Longmont. I asked Big Mike to tag along, because sometimes if you ask questions, you need muscle along for the ride.]]> <![CDATA[Frasca's new sister pizzeria shines]]> If I've learned anything from the recent proliferation of high-end pizza eateries in Boulder, it's that these aren't the cheesy parlors of my childhood. No straw hat-doffing servers or coin-operated mechanical pony rides here. You won't find either at the new Pizzeria Locale,.]]> <![CDATA[Old reliable May Wah]]> Outside of Chinatowns and Asian communities, there%uFFFDs a reassuring predictability to what%uFFFDs on the menu at what one can categorize as Chinese-American restaurants. These aren%uFFFDt places to get jellyfish appetizers, preserved duck egg congee or black bean oysters.]]> <![CDATA[Temperature matters]]> The best fish and chips I ever had were at some wharf-side shack on Granville Island in Vancouver. Hands numb and cramped under a space heater, wet from it being Vancouver in November, and tired from a long, lost walk… temperature mattered. A crispy, thick shell held in steaming halibut, and all was in balance.]]> <![CDATA[An alternative to the Indian buffet]]> Curry N Kebob fills a unique niche among Indian eateries by not featuring the ubiquitous buffet. Most options here cost a buck or two less than typical all-you-can-eat offerings, and service is reasonably fast, permitting those pressed for time to enjoy a subcontinental lunch.]]> <![CDATA[Everyone is happy]]> Everyone is happy at The Post. On a Friday afternoon, three cooks are laughing behind the bakery counter. When I return a week later, three new cooks — or who knows — are laughing again. The waiters, too, are all happy. Not the giddy, storemandated affability that drives you nuts. Just the calm joy of a person who’s happy to be at work. Happiness inhabits the place, an old VFW that was chicly remodeled and restored into a post-industrial lodge. It keeps smiles on the faces of the folks who have to wait tables and the folks who have to wait for tables.]]> <![CDATA[Mainlining cured meats and cheeses]]> Back in the ’70s, Dad would often return from overseas business trips with his battered black briefcase freighted not with paperwork, but culinary treasures. Returning from Lisbon, Dad once brought back an enigmatic hunk of salted meat. “It’s Portuguese prosciutto,” he explained, “and it’s illegal in the United States.”]]> <![CDATA[A high-end food court]]> Neither good food nor subtlety was a strong suit at the busy suburban mall food courts of my youth. In those pre-Sbarro years, kitsch was king. Over-the-top Union Jack displays heralded the fish and chips stand, and garish, if not stereotypical, lanterns and kimonos indicated where greasy tempura was dished out.]]> <![CDATA[A farmhouse kitchen and pub]]> This new self-styled farmhouse kitchen and pub distinguishes itself by offering locavore small plates as well as a relatively affordable prix fixe menu spotlighting ingredients from Chef Eric Skokan’s farm.]]> <![CDATA[The Boulder Cork has aged well]]> Settings into a venerable locale such as the Boulder Cork restaurant, one can’t but help wonder if the dapper sports coat-clad gentleman at the next table might be a regular who’s come here for decades. Perhaps a younger version of him showed up here in the ’70s, decked out in a turtleneck, bell-bottoms and a sweet Mark Spitz-style ’stache. He’s aged reasonably well, but what about his favored restaurant?]]> <![CDATA[Cup at Conorís]]> Unfortunately, pretty much everything I know about World Cup soccer comes from the mid-í90s pinball machine of the same name. I know that teams from around the world are involved and someone enthusiastically yells out ďgoalĒ in an elongated manner whenever points are scored.]]> <![CDATA[Deck snacks at the Rex]]> For over a hundred years, the building housing The Louisville Rex has provided Main Street with entertainment of one kind or another. Established as a billiard hall, it became a theater, and eventually another restaurant prior to its current iteration. Nowadays, one of the main attractions of this spot is the spacious rooftop deck, which has the amiable feel of a venue in a far-away, warm-weather resort town.]]> <![CDATA[Open mouth, insert wing]]> REO Speedwagon’s Hi Infidelity, the first season of Miami Vice and the John Madden-era Oakland Raiders are among my myriad of guilty pleasures. Chicken wings come close to making this list. However, many versions, either prepared indifferently or adhering too faithfully to the vinegary tones of the original Buffalo version, inevitably disappoint. For this reason, they have yet to reach the exalted status of a guilty pleasure.]]> <![CDATA[An old favorite endures]]> I’m not sure if this is more Pavlovian or Proustian, but for many normal folks, hearing a particular song transports them back to a particular time and place. For example, I’ll always associate the first day I set foot in Boulder in 1994 with Seal’s “Prayer for the Dying,” as that was playing on the then-local station. Unlike normal people, I’ll also associate restaurants with certain times in my life. For that mid-Clinton era, I’ll fondly recall long-defunct eateries like the LA Diner and Trios.]]> <![CDATA[Brunch without the wait]]> Aji is blessedly free of a line around 10:30 a.m. on a Saturday, likely because Latin restaurants aren’t commonly thought of for brunch opportunities, especially when surrounded by more breakfast-centric bistros and diners.]]> <![CDATA[A Canadian guilty pleasure on the Hill]]> Despite its Francophone pedigree and deserved reputation as one of the most European of North American cities, Montreal claims surprisingly few culinary specialties as its own.]]> <![CDATA[The secret]]> Not because the food isn’t fantastic, but because while most Boulder restaurants are clustered in one of the city’s two walking neighborhoods, or in major-roadway stripmalls you could easily wander into, Dagabi Cucina is tucked away in the back spot...]]> <![CDATA[Best of the rest]]> Blooming Beets is lifestyle eating if anything, no different in principle than the hip pizza joint or the restaurant that serves the same chow for twice the price as the corner diner just by adding a white table cloth.]]> <![CDATA[A shrine to flavor]]> It’s hard not to think of that scene walking into Korea House in North Boulder. The unassuming stripmall storefront on the side of 28th gives no hint of what is contained within: numerous paintings, tchotchkes and shrines to beer and more.]]>