As Boulder Weekly strove to round up a few of Boulder and Longmont’s dingiest bars and greasiest diners, we were stuck on the central question: What, exactly, defines a dive?
Is it that quality of being stuck in time — or, some would argue, timeless — from the hodge-podge hanging on the walls to the weather-beaten regulars? The aroma of stale beer or the sound of a shoe coming unstuck from the floor? Perhaps it is other unknown qualities that, while you may be not able to name them, add a certain grit to an establishment.
Whatever other criteria you might have, one definitive characteristic is the people such places serve: locals. In towns increasingly filled with transplants and tourists, a neighborhood bar or restaurant is a must.
Bootstrap Brewing
142 Pratt St.
3-9 p.m. Monday-Thursday, noon to 9 p.m. Friday-Saturday, noon to 6 p.m. Sunday
“Kazoo break!” someone yells out from the main stage. As one, the crowd at Bootstrap Brewing silences their ukulele strings and begin to hum a harmonious, if slightly comical, tune on the wind instruments.
It’s the LoCo ukulele jam, held every Sunday from 2-4 p.m. for the past seven years. Every space in the parking lot — car and bike — is full, as is every seat in the bar.
“We started out with maybe eight people on the first Sunday,” says Leslie Kaczeus, who owns the brewery with her husband, Steve. “It just grew so fast.”
Longmont is home to two of the area’s most iconic breweries, Oskar Blues and Left Hand (Oskar Blues’ founder Dale Katechis was an early investor at Bootstrap.) Next to these internationally recognized brands, it would be easy for outsiders to overlook Bootstrap. But locals know what’s up.
Bootstrappers are a loyal group. During the COVID-19 pandemic, they kept the brewery alive with to-go orders and socially distanced drinking in the parking lot, presided over by longtime open mic host Danny Driscoll.
“It was like a drive-in,” Leslie says. “People brought us cookies and were like, ‘Thank you for being open.’”
Customers not only populate the taproom and test beers before they go to market, they also weigh in on who works there.
“We’ve got a core group of our Mug Club members,” Leslie says. “When we bring someone on to do a trial shift, I know immediately if I should hire that person because 15 of them will call me and say, ‘Hire them!’”
The Kaczeus’ approach to hiring is the same philosophy that infuses everything from taproom decor — Carribean themed: Leslie jokes, “We were either going to open a brewery or move to an island.” — to the beer they brew: Surround yourself with the things and people you love, and your tribe will find you.
That’s been true since Bootstrap started as a neighborhood pole barn brewery in Niwot, where the couple lives. And it’s kept them growing even as the industry as a whole contracts; they recently began distributing beer in Europe.
“We always wanted to be the neighborhood brewery,” Steve says. “When we came over here” — a former Longmont Times-Call distribution center near the historic downtown — ”we just naturally carried that atmosphere, that ambiance over.
“Community was always important to us.”
So, too, is giving back. Bootstrap supports local nonprofits with quarterly tribute nights featuring live music; the house ukulele band always kicks things off. The Kaczeus helped organize a festival for new breweries; now that they’ve aged out, they attend as fans. They give upstart musicians a break, too, devoting Thursday night live music to duos, trios and other smaller acts “that don’t work on a Friday or Saturday night,” Leslie says.
Music is a part of the brewing process, too, Steve says: “We have music on all the time in the back, and it makes the yeast happy. Happy yeast makes great beer.”
Joy pervades Bootstrap. Bartenders laugh and joke with customers. Steve and Leslie didn’t stop smiling or laughing during our interview, and I couldn’t keep the grin off my face watching uke jam attendees sing and strum along to popular songs. (I challenge anyone to maintain a stoic expression while listening to a room full of kazoos.)
Perhaps that is the mark of a neighborhood dive: a place where everything is intentional, but not contrived, where the authenticity of the owners and staff invite others in and make them feel comfortable enough to be themselves and to keep coming back.
“Not everybody knows why they like it here,” Steve says. “They just know they like it.” — Shay Castle
Goodfellas Diner /
Aunt Alice’s Kitchen
623 Ken Pratt Blvd.,
7 a.m. to 8 p.m. seven days a week
1805 Main St.,
5:30 a.m. to 8 p.m. seven days a week
This one is a two-fer. These establishments share an owner. Their menus are similar and both have that classic kitsch essential to an American diner, a throwback to a time when you could get a cup of coffee and a full meal for less than $5. Oh, how we pine for cheap, greasy fare.
These days, it seems everyone and everything has an online presence. So perhaps the lack of a digital footprint should be a mark of a great, underrated eatery.
That’s certainly the case for Goodfellas. Even though it’s been open for over a decade, the restaurant’s website still has a blank “about” section.
Aunt Alice’s doesn’t say much more: “Aunt Alice’s is a family owned and run restaurant since 1987. Home of the ‘Big Daddy’ Breakfast Burrito Challenge. Where friends gather!”
You can, however, find the menus online. In addition to all-day breakfast, both diners have staples like liver and onions, chicken fried steak and patty and tuna melts. The classic chrome stool seating is on offer, as are comfy padded booths.
At Goodfellas on a Friday afternoon, my tuna melt — a “Fellas favorite,” according to the menu — arrives within minutes: crispy, golden, melty and delicious. The strawberry shake, served in an old-fashioned glass, is piled high with whipped cream and topped with the requisite cherry. A bevy of friendly waitresses check in on me throughout my meal.
The shopping center that surrounds Goodfellas is stacked with goodies: Mexican bakery La Panda, Rosarios Peruvian. Aunt Alice’s is a locally owned island in a sea of chains, but it is close to Lake McIntosh and a packed Goodwill for a post-breakfast stroll or shop. — Shay Castle
Marco’s
1647 Kimbark St.
10:30 a.m. to 9 p.m. Monday-Thursday,
10:30 a.m. to 10 p.m. Friday-Saturday
If you’ve got that dog in you, Marco’s is the place to be. This unassuming hot dog and taco joint on Kimbark Street has been serving hungry Longmonsters for more than a quarter century. Drop by for either of the long-running family restaurant’s disparate street food staples (or better yet, both) and it’s not hard to see why.
The two-line setup at this often-packed favorite can be a little intimidating to the newcomer — but you’re an insider now, baby. Make a left at the entrance and belly up to the hot dog bar, or hang a right for tacos. Either way, Marco’s sweet and speedy staff will make your off-the-map dining dreams come true and send you on your merry way to check out with a friendly cashier parked between the two serving stations.
Glizzy enthusiasts will find lots to love in the walk-up restaurant’s signature bacon-wrapped dog smothered with pinto beans, onion, tomato and a condiment cage match of ketchup, mustard, mayo and cheese. Feeling completely fucking insane? Get it with fried shrimp, or “burro” style wrapped in a humongous tortilla. Either way, you’ll want a fresh blistered jalapeno on the side for a fire-breathing palette cleanser and a bright, fruity agua fresca to cool things off.
Marco’s taco program is elegant in its simplicity, as it should be. You know the drill: asada, adobada, barbacoa and the gang served on a corn tortilla (single or double-wrapped) blissfully seasoned with a wedge of lime and piles of cilantro and chopped onion. What more do you people want? — Jezy J. Gray
3’s Bar
333 Main St.
Noon to 2 a.m., seven days a week
It’s been an uphill battle in the PR department for 3’s Bar in recent years. Scan a handful of online reviews and you’ll find plenty to scare you off. (“Wanna get into a fight?” one TripAdvisor user asks. “Come to 3’s!”) Pair that with a high-profile 2018 kidnapping and murder case linked to the parking lot, and this downtown dive is likely not high on your list of Longmont getaways.
Violence did not feel imminent when I strolled into the no-frills community watering hole with my spouse on a sunny Saturday afternoon in early August. Bachman Turner Overdrive’s “Taking Care of Business” rattled the jukebox as we took our high-top seats at the bar and ordered a pair of $3 Coors Banquet bottles. A loose smattering of older-skewing regulars shot pool (free on weekends) and yapped jovially with longtime bartender Jordan, who poured shots and popped tops with the nonchalance of a casual pro.
The moves here will be familiar to any dive bar connoisseur: cheap domestic drafts, plastic-cup mixed drinks and gobs of hole-in-the-wall grit. If you’re looking for a place to cool your heels, throw some darts and get hammered without the muss and fuss of overpriced cocktails or a laundry list of milkshake IPAs and fruited sour beers, 3’s is the place.
Well drinks are $4 until 5 p.m. on weekdays with low-key food options on Sunday — think sloppy joes and Frito chili pie — served on what can only be described as the saddest-looking folding table I’ve seen in my life. You may scoff now, but you’ll need some sustenance after housing your fourth round of Michelob Ultras while fine tuning your ass-whooping skills on the punching bag machine in the back.
Will you need that left hook if things get rowdy later in the night? Who’s to say. But considering the fact that violence is woven into the fabric of American life, and 90% of violent crime is committed by someone the victim knows, it seems silly to let a seedy reputation stop you from enjoying the last of a dying breed in buttoned-up Boulder County.
After all, as one Longmont resident told Boulder Weekly, it’s got a leg up on the competition.
“It’s the least stabby of the shitholes right now,” he said. “My friend Dan got stabbed with a screwdriver at McCarthy’s. He only got beat up at 3’s.” – Jezy J. Gray
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