NPR Pledge Drive: Let it End!
If you’re like me, you listen to NPR in the car. I have some exceptions to this general rule: “Car Talk” and “A Prairie Home Companion.” I can abide neither of those. Otherwise NPR is my constant companion when I’m tooling about in my automobile, especially on my morning and afternoon commutes. I love Steve and Renée in the morning (and like it when Linda Wertheimer subs in for either of them, really anyone but Ari; ugh) and Melissa and Robert in the afternoon (I go back and forth about Michele). I am one of those NPR geeks who likes to talk about their favorite newscasters and reporters and the ones they can’t stand. (Perhaps the subject of another post? All I can say is that Ofeibea Quist-Arcton, aside from having the most amazing name, pronounces Dakar in a way that thrills me every single time.)
All of this is just a roundabout way of talking about the fact that I cannot stand pledge week, which I understand ends tomorrow. I get why they do it and I contribute my annual pledge. (I now have a radio bookmark, which I have never used, and at least two tote bags, which I take to the grocery store.) But it bores me to tears. Not just because they take away the programming, though that is part of it, but because the poor people at Colorado Public Radio have to pretend that they are having fun in their silly conversations all day long. I believe that two days ago — at 6:30 AM, no less! — I heard Mike Lamp tell David Rutherford, one of the KVOD classical announcers, that he was “having a blast” chatting that morning about some CD of adagios they were giving away. First of all, I don’t believe them. Lies! Second, even if they are having a blast, I most certainly am not. I’m in pain.
So here’s what I propose for the gift that I receive the next time I make my pledge: a little device (or maybe a special code?) that I can put into my car radio that bypasses pledge drive and takes me straight to regular programming. The earlier you pledge, the quicker you get said device or code. I guarantee that if such a thing could be invented, donations would go through the roof. Until then I encourage everyone else to make their pledges and join me in prayer that tomorrow really is the last day.
Highlands Charcuterie
Fresh off a plane from a work trip to the Midwest, I met up with Alastair at Cellar Wine Bar at the corner of 15th, Umatilla, and Boulder, in the Highlands. Alastair has written about Cellar before, but I had never been. Unsure of what we wanted to do that evening, we decided to start out here and hatch a plan. We each had a couple glasses of wine, Alastair consulting with the friendly barkeep about his choices. By 8:30 we were getting a little hungry so we ordered a selection of cheeses and pâté de campagne: any three meats and cheeses for $15. They come served with bread, olives, marcona almonds, and fresh raspberries. The pâté was delicious and so were the cheeses: a Camembert and a local Cabra Blanca. Alastair and I decided that sometimes a well chosen platter like this is just about all that’s necessary for a satisfying meal. And Cellar delivers, on both the snacking and the vino.
Z Cuisine and A Cote
But we wanted more. So we headed out in search of a second course. We stopped in at Root Down, one of our faves, but it was crowded and we couldn’t be seated for about 45 minutes. Just at that moment we got a text from our gal pal Christine. He and our friend Gareth were just settling in at À Côté, the wine and absinthe bar à côté de Z Cuisine on 30th at Wyandot. So we met up with them there. And indulged in yet more charcuterie: pork shoulder rilletes, more pâté de campagne, local cheeses, saucissons, and cornichons, accompanied by a number of freshly prepared garnishes and French bread (which Alastair declared the best baguette he’d had in Denver!). Alastair ordered a glass of chenin blanc; I chose Sauvignon blanc. Upon their arrival we each tasted our own, and then each other’s, announced in unison that we preferred each other’s to our own, and promptly switched. Gareth and Christine giggled at us and sipped their Manhattans. While we definitely enjoyed the charcuterie platter we had at Osteria Marco in February, these two Highlands plates were also delicious and, together, fully satisfying. Who needs an entrée when one can graze like this?
The Elegance of Denver B-Cycle
Joan Allen
Remember the movie The Ice Storm? Remember the brilliant Joan Allen as the brittle protagonist? Good. Now think back to the moment when she takes her bicycle out of her barn/garage to go into the town of New Canaan to run some errands. She’s wearing a hideous ’70s wide-legged pantsuit with a dreadful print all over it. She combines this with a big chunky knitted sweater with an eagle or some other large bird on the back, as only a New England WASP would. And her hair is cut in a bob and her makeup is applied impeccably.
Joan Allen sails into town on that bicycle, head held high, chin jutted out, bell-bottomed trousers flapping in the breeze, on her way to Varnum’s Pharmacy to shoplift a few cheap lipsticks. She is regal and poised and elegant. That, dear reader, is how I feel on my Denver B-Cycle as I make my way down the Cherry Creek Trail at least once a week.
Denver B-Cycle
The bikes are the kind that don’t demand that you hunch yourself over trying to achieve speed. I set my seat at a comfortable 7 and sit upright the whole while; sometimes I even put my backpack in the front basket. How gay is that? And, just like Joan Allen in The Ice Storm, I sail down that path and I feel elegant. So thank you Denver B-Cycle (yes, that Denver B-Cycle, the U.N.-inspired plot, according to one of the loons running to be our governor) for allowing a Denver gay to feel like the incomparable Joan Allen about once a week. And for charging him a minimal annual fee to do it. And for helping him save money and the environment while he does so.
We ♥ Mondo Guerra Even More!
Mondo and his Model
His third consecutive win. The bold print and sleek little top. His adorable mother. His wry sense of humor. His humility. His coming out as HIV-positive on national television. His being our Denver neighbor. In short, what’s not to love?
Let’s also have a moment here for Valerie Mayen, whose designs may have bored us toward the end a wee bit, but who gave us one of the best parting moments we’ve had on Project Runway. As she talked about each designer, I kept expecting her to stumble and be less articulate in her description of the next one. But stumble she did not. Her comments were heartfelt, individualized, and moving. Dear reader, I am not ashamed to admit that between Mondo and Valerie and Tim, this DOD boy was sobbing like a small child. And that was not such a bad place to be.
See our Season Finale Wrap-up Here.
Frontier Airlines: Where’s My Seat?
In the constant back-and-forth that is Denverites’ allegiance in airlines, I seem to have given myself over to the forces of evil. That is, United, and their terrible customer service. Even as they continue to disappoint me with their silly promotions. There are a number of reasons for this, one of which is the impetus for today’s post. First, however, I will admit that I seem to have racked up more miles with United and thus get more benefits. This makes me prefer them. I get to board early, check a bag for free, and sit in “Economy Plus” for no extra charge. Frontier probably has similar benefits in their frequent flyer program but I just haven’t arrived at that level yet.
There is another reason, however, and I experienced it today. When you buy a ticket from United, either on their websites or through another (like Orbitz, for instance), United lets you pick your seat. Frontier does not, unless, presumably, you are an Ascent or Summit member (their silly name for advanced status in frequent flyer miles). Frontier only allows you to choose a seat when you check in online, anytime within 24 hours of your departure. The last time I did this there was one seat left, 14E, halfway back in the middle. Every other seat was already taken and I had gone online a full 24 hours in advance. How was this possible, I ask you? Today I checked in for a flight tomorrow night and discovered that the only seats available were the front seats with extra legroom. I could pay $25 extra and be assigned one of those. Otherwise I had no assigned seat. That’s right; I’ll just have to wait and see what happens when I get to the airport. Now of course my hope is that I get put in one of those seats anyway, but my question remains: how does everyone else get to pick a seat and I do not? Even more: why won’t Frontier allow me to select a seat when I book my ticket? Aren’t there supposed to be certain rewards that accrue to those who plan ahead (as I did; I bought this ticket at least a month ago)?
Snowy the Cottontail?
While the cattle call of Southwest holds no appeal for me at all (just thinking about it makes me shudder), at least they are perfectly clear about their policy: check in as soon as you can to get the best number and a chance at the best seat when you make a mad dash onto the plane. And other airlines are usually equally clear: select seat at time of purchase. Frontier is playing both ends against the middle and I’m none too pleased about it. I don’t care if Snowy the cottontail rabbit is joining me on my flight, I’d still like to know where I’m sitting!
A Deluxe Night on the Town
Sketch Wine Bar
Last night Alastair and I met up with our gal pals Christine and Justine for drinks and dinner and then far too many drinks, as it turned out. We rendezvoused (can I use the word that way?) at our fave, Sketch Wine Bar, at Broadway and 1st. There we enjoyed a few glasses of albariño and pinot grigio (we do like our dry whites) as we contemplated our dinner options. We had not made a reservation but we also weren’t ready to eat till around 9:00 and in Denver that is the equivalent of midnight in other cities, so our odds were good. We decided to try the nearby Deluxe; I was slightly worried that it might be too crowded (it’s not a big space, after all) but all worry was for naught. At that hour the place was nearly empty, mostly filled with fellow homosexuals, though of the female persuasion. Seriously, it was lesbian date night at Deluxe.
We ordered a couple appetizers to begin: the monsoon dumplings (filled with chicken and ginger) and the halibut ceviche. Both were quite tasty. We also had a nice bottle of California cabernet (OK, we had two; there were four of us). Justine and Alastair both opted for beef for their main course: the NY strip for Alastair and the T-bone special for Justine. Though both found their meat tasty, neither felt it was properly cooked to order. Alastair had ordered medium because he wanted rare but feared that it would be too rare. It arrived rare, so he got what he wanted but he had to be devious in order to do so. Justine requested his steak “bloody” and it, too, arrived rare. Maybe Alastair needn’t have worried after all; perhaps all meat is cooked rare at Deluxe? Christine and I, so tempted were we by all options on the menu, decided to split two of them. We ordered the Deluxe paella, one of their specialties, which I had had before. And the chicken Bolognese, made with wide flat noodles. Both were great. I am very picky about paella, in large part because there are just so many ways to do it wrong. It can easily be too granular (the rice should be quite sticky and almost glumpy) or it can be too saucy (paella is not gumbo). The seasoning can be off or the seafood portions can be stingy. But Deluxe’s paella suffers from none of these afflictions. It is true that they are a wee bit generous with the peas (and really who cares about peas in a paella?). Christine also found it a bit salty for his taste, but it seemed great to me. Granted, I could also bathe in a salt lick and be happy; in fact, I ended up salting my portion (as Christine looked on, horrified). The pasta was also very nice: well cooked with tangy tomato sauce and fresh ricotta and parsley.
The Bar at Deluxe
Two complaints about Deluxe: the décor needs some help. The leopard carpet is looking tired and the big mirrors and letters commanding one to EAT over the bar are starting to seem a little dated. Particularly when the place isn’t full it all just seems a little bit sad. This is nothing that can’t be fixed pretty easily, but fixed it should be. The waitstaff also seemed, it must be said, intoxicated. There was more confusion than was warranted by the small number of people present. And our waiter also committed what I consider to be one of the Seven Deadly Sins of Serving: he cleared plates before everyone was finished eating. Justine was still working away at his not-bloody-enough T-bone and he was doing it at a table devoid of all other plates. This is the sort of thing that can make a diner self-conscious. All plates should remain until all diners have finished. It’s as simple as that.
After dinner we headed to the nearby and tacky-as-ever Boyztown. And who should we see, but Mondo! Of course he must just have come from Fashion Week in New York and must also know who won this season of Project Runway. It might even be him! We left Mr. Guerra alone to enjoy the evening with his friends and proceeded to order far too many cocktails (your DOD boys were in pain this morning). Alastair also got rather friendly with one of the dancing boyz. Maybe Alastair will start demanding that we go to Boyztown more often to see his newfound friend. Maybe this will be like a gay version of Pretty Woman! (I get to be the sassy Kit DeLuca.)
After Boyztown, somehow we convinced ourselves that we still weren’t done and headed back to the ‘hood for a nightcap AND a second meal at the absurdly spelled Barricuda’s. Yes, with an i. Apparently Barricuda’s is open till 4 AM but their 2 AM last call — get this — is not a last call to order alcohol, but instead to consume it. Anything not imbibed by 2 is actually confiscated. I have never experienced such a thing. What is the reasoning behind this? Can anyone explain?
We ♥ Mondo Guerra
Mondo Guerra
Before I talk about the ways that Mondo Guerra has worked his way into our hearts, let me say a few other things about last night’s show:
- People are really funny talking about Ivy: She can sew, but she’s not so much as a designer. She’s intense and bitchy and exacting. She thinks pretty highly of herself.
- Gretchen — despite a few snide comments about Casanova — seems to have calmed down somewhat from her earlier antics. Perhaps she took Tim’s criticism to heart?
- Kristen Bell? Really?!? Has it come to this, Project Runway? Is she about to appear in some Lifetime TV movie and this was something worked out with the network? ’Cause she is hardly known for her fashion forward choices. Aside from Veronica Mars and that unfortunate looking film about some wedding in Italy with Josh Duhamel, she is hardly known at all. Did you see the dress she was wearing? Did you see the way that Kors and Heidi and la Garcia hardly interacted with her? Did you hear her say that she would wear April’s “dress” on the red carpet? Did you hear her describe herself as punk baby doll? Did you ask yourself why that would be a good idea for an aesthetic? As far as guest judges go, it was a train wreck from beginning to end.
But now on to MONDO! Yes, he may have designed a “junior” outfit (a term heretofore confined to department stores) that the judges hated. Yes, even we may have thought it was a bit silly looking, but for all these reasons, we love him still:
- His description of Ivy: “She’s a powerhouse and a bossy lady.”
- His wonderful turnaround on the Michael C front. Do I love Michael C? I do not. But Mondo seems to have realized that he may have judged him too harshly. And he said this, not only to us at home, but also to Michael himself, apologizing for being a bitch and a dick and a jerk. Props to Mondo.
- And then he did so again on the runway, claiming that whatever faults his outfit had, they were not because of Michael’s sewing.
- His outfits! I loved the little suit with the pink shirt and the bowtie. Adorable!
- His hair! So many options, so many styles!
- His tiny little limbs in those shorts and t-shirts. Alastair and I are on the smaller side ourselves and we do like to see the non-muscled gays represent.
- He’s from Denver!
Mondo Guerra, will you be our friend when you return to the Mile High City? This city needs more folks like you. Where do you hang out? Who are your friends? Do you belong to a little clique of fashionable hipsters? If so, can we join you? Please email us at downandoutindenver AT gmail DOT com.
9/17 Post-Mondo Win Update: Click Here and Click Here for 9/30 Update after his third win.
See our Season Finale Wrap-up Here.
Modernism and Beyond
Friday evening was quite the experience for your DOD boys. They did indeed go to the Denver Modernism Show, but they did so much else last night as well.
Free drinks, entertainment, and special guests were the rule of thumb at the Denver Modernism Show Early VIP Gala… and they use the term gala very loosely. Black Tie it was not. Blake and I had the pleasure of being some of the first to shop the show, alongside our fellow modernism enthusiasts: Mr. and Ms. B, and the fashionable, Ginger Snap. We were kindly greeted, on multiple occasions, by Charles Phoenix, the self-proclaimed “King of Retro.” Our VIP tickets got us two free cocktails: Your choice of Mai Tai, Blue Hawaiian, or some other rum cocktail at the fabulously decorated Tiki Bar. Blake don’t care for rum, but I’ll drink just about anything, especially if it comes free with admission and an umbrella. We were also treated to live music, heavily tattooed hula girls, and some unmemorable entertainment. Yours truly fell in love with some serious chartreuse colored champagne/sherbet cocktail glasses (see below) by the versatile Russel Wright, designed to complement his recently reissued American Modern dinnerware. At twenty dollars a piece, I had to painfully pass, but they would have been a spectacular addition to a mid-century modern themed New Year’s Eve party.
Keeping in line with the mid-century theme, Ms. B suggested dinner and drinks at Bastien’s Restaurant and Steakhouse, located on East Colfax Avenue, near the Bluebird Theater. Blake has visited Bastien’s before, but this was Alastair’s first visit. Let’s say my expectations were not high, but I was tremendously pleased with my entire experience.
Bastien’s is an old school steakhouse and bar with an interesting architectural design. Started by William Bastien in 1937 when he bought out the Moon Drive Inn, the present twelve-sided building was constructed in 1958 and has a sort of subtle Googie flair—an exaggerated modern architectural style seen in the coffee shops, bowling alleys, and motels of the 1950s and 1960s. After a drink at the bar lounge, Blake and I, alongside Mr. and Ms. B and Ginger Snap sat down for a wonderful dining experience. Now, Bastien’s is not inexpensive, but compared to the prices we pay at Potager, this was a bargain and we were well fed! We all started with salads. I had the Caesar, while everyone else had the Ice Berg wedge with Blue cheese dressing and bacon crumbles. My salad came with grilled romaine, a very nice touch, and plenty of shaved parmesan cheese and croutons, along with a tasty balsamic reduction and a DOD favorite, anchovies! Ms. B received something that looked more like half a head of lettuce, rather than a wedge. But who’s complaining!
Moving onto dinner, Blake ordered LaLa’s Steak, a ten ounce New York steak grilled with fresh lime and cracked pepper, served with fresh peppers and pico de gallo. Mr. and Ms. B went with a German theme. Mr. B enjoyed his Beef Liver sautéed with onions, “just like mom made,” and seasoned mashed potatoes. Ms. B seemed very pleased with her wiener schnitzel. Ginger had the pork chop special and I chose the ten ounce New York with Deep Fried Shrimp. It came with a reasonably sized baked potato with sour cream, butter, cheese, and chives, and the steak was perfectly cooked to a true medium rare. Delicious! We ended our meal with some apple pie sizzling skillet dessert with vanilla ice cream. The perfect ending to a perfect meal.
After going our separate ways, Blake and I enjoyed a brisk walk down Colfax to grab ourselves a night-cap at HER BAR located at Colfax and Washington. According to the website Fridays at HER BAR are FemmeBar with DJ Love, who seemed to be spinning an eclectic mix of 80s new wave and current hits by Usher, Gaga, and others. We grabbed ourselves a seat at the bar and a drink. Blake was intrigued by reruns of The Nanny projected onto an interior wall. Is Fran Drescher a lesbian? Is there some lesbian connection that we DOD boys are unaware of? Clearly, the Nanny was a gay icon… I mean look at those highlight clips on YouTube. Just saying.
In any case, the DOD boys seemed to be a magnet for the more interesting ladies enjoying themselves last night. My friend, whose name I did not catch, was clearly a fan of the drink. Tired of waiting for a refill and patience running thin, she decided to continually stand then sit until finally waving her hands in the air as though she was directing a 747 from its final approach to the gate. Blake’s lady friend, Nila, was much cuter than mine… but perhaps just as drunk. I don’t know much about Nila, but the girl liked to dance… and apparently found the two of us very interesting. We later met her gal pal Fay, who had no idea “what was going on.” As the night went on, Nila became even more friendly. I think she may have slightly molested Blake as Fay and I chatted offline. I hope that Nila understood that she wasn’t going to get very far. In any case, we found HER (or HER, or HER, or HER) BAR lots of fun and an amusing way to end the evening. We’ll be back Nila, don’t you worry your pretty little big pocket shorts! And the DOD boys will have their dancing shoes with them next time!
El Diablo
Your DOD boys did indeed go to the newly opened El Diablo last night, but they did so much else last night as well. Read on…
Alastair was an early convert to Denver B-Cycle. It took me longer, largely because I don’t mind walking everywhere. But I just joined, and last night was to be my very first night using a B-Cycle. I signed up Friday online and was told that while my membership card would not arrive for a little while (understandably) I could use the credit card that I’d registered with in order to take out a bike. It was not to be. I inserted said card at the B-Cycle station at Boulder and 16th in the Highlands: not recognized, no membership. As I waited on hold with B-Cycle headquarters I walked over the Highland Bridge to the station at 16th and Platte. The nice gentleman on the other end of the phone told me there was a glitch in the system and that it wasn’t fixable right now. However, I could sign up for a $5 one-day membership that he would reimburse to my credit card. Done. Except that when I tried to take out a bike the system froze. No luck. Alastair advised me there was a station across the park at 16th and Little Raven. There I finally met with success. I sailed off down the Cherry Creek Trail (on the pedestrian side; I’m still getting acquainted with bicycling etiquette) to meet Alastair at Sketch Wine Bar for a glass of vinho verde, served up by the ever-friendly J.D.
Update: Denver B-Cycle called me on Monday and has straightened out the entire problem with the credit card. Seems like they run a pretty tight ship!
Red Lights over the bar at El Diablo
Alastair had arrived at El Diablo before me and put our names on the waiting list before heading over to Sketch (located next door and also run by Jesse Morreale, who brought us Tambien, Mezcal, and La Rumba). Midway through our second glass of wine at Sketch, we were approached by one of the hosts at El Diablo: had we put our names on the list? Indeed we had. Now that’s service! While the host and hostess were indeed very accommodating, the table service left a little to be desired. Granted, it was their second night in action, but we waited a long time to have our order taken, and even longer to have it actually appear. While some of the waitstaff seemed to be wandering around aimlessly, ours was often nowhere to be found or rushed by our table without looking at us. The food and drinks were tasty, though nothing remarkably special. We started with chips y tres salsas and two very tall glasses of sangria. The salsas were good, if a little runny, and the sangria — perhaps because so plentiful — was pretty watery and devoid of much fruit flavor. (The pricier sangria made with more fruit was unavailable last night.) Our tacos — one order of carne asada y papas and one order of carnitas with salsa — were very tasty, though the tortillas had become hardened and brittle. And our very small sides of rice and beans — at $4.95 each — were overpriced and underwhelming. It was opening weekend so Alastair and I agreed we’d give it another chance. The place is packed and the atmosphere is fun. It’s dark and the tacky red lights worked well with the bad plasticized tabletops. It reminded both of us of a place in the Mission in San Francisco called Velvet Cantina: hipster Mexican.
And we were off! A night of karaoke awaited us at Armida’s, site of a wild night in early May that I documented here. This was actually our gal pal’s Whitney’s birthday party and she once again delivered some stellar performances, even joining Alastair for a rendition of Estelle and Kanye’s “American Boy.” Alastair took Estelle’s part, natch. And they were not the only enthusiastic singers. A gang of six thirty-something straight guys got up to deliver a somewhat too rousing rendition of Bon Jovi’s “Blaze of Glory.” One couldn’t help but wonder if they were mourning their own youth, gone in the aforementioned blaze. And there was even a lady fight! Involving actual punches. One very drunken young woman (part of an entourage of mid-20s women in strappy dresses and large engagement rings; is this Denver?) took a swing at another young woman who had spent most of her awful rendition of Cher’s “If I Could Turn Back Time” trying to show off her quads to the audience. Oh my. It was not pretty.
Stay tuned for Alastair’s report on our delicious (and boozy) Sunday brunch at Root Down…
Late Night Meal Deal
My Oklahoman gal pal and I met up for drinks last Friday to play a little catch up. Looking for something different we decided to try out a new spot: Park & Co. Located in the former Bump & Grind space at 17th and Pennsylvania, Park & Co. is the new outpost of South Pearl Street’s Park Burger. We grabbed a couple of seats at the L-shaped bar and ordered ourselves a glass of the Spanish rosé and a Manna-Hata. I know… Don’t get me started on “The New Yorker,” aka the Reuben sandwich. A “Colorado Manhattan,” the Manna-Hata is made with Stranahans Colorado Whiskey and Peach Street Brandy. The drinks tasted great, but we both thought the pours were rather conservative.
The bar service also left a lot to be desired. There seemed to be plenty of staff… keeping busy, but not on us. After enjoying our first round (and hoping to order another, in addition to an appetizer) our empty glasses sat on the bar for a good five minutes if not longer. The bar back even cleared them away before we had to wave down a bartender to order our second round and the spinach-artichoke dip.
I know it’s early in the game and some bugs need to be worked out, but given the service up to that point we decided to forgo the gamble and grabbed a bite at Steuben’s. I hope Park & Co. improves their service because I really want to try that Croque Burger, a 1/3 lb. Harris Ranch patty topped with fried egg, ham and swiss. In any case, our little detour down 17th to Steuben’s led us to one hell of a find: after 10 p.m. a cheeseburger, fries, and can of beer costs just $5. Yes, $5! Stop by Steuben’s anytime after 10 p.m. and you too can have one of the best meal deals in Denver.
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