Jay's Bistro, Fort Collins

Social media often gets a bad rap, mostly for being neither. Racking up hundreds of Facebook “friends” is more demented and sad then social, and any goof with an opinion and Internet connection can blog for all the world to see.

I know. I own the irony.

Still I’m a fan. A big fan because through Facebook I've found and reconnected with pals from high school, the boys and girls now men and women with whom I shared teenage angst and unbridled hope for four years, some more. We even had a mini-reunion a couple of years back. And a blog I wrote prior to this one led an old chum my way who's a new friend (again), decades on. There’s something cyclical and spectacular about girlhood pals becoming adult confidantes; together we remember who we were then while relishing where we are now and every step feels familiar. She's settled in Fort Collins (a good drive north) and we make dates often, socialize for real and I've grown to adore her town.

What's not to love...fresh off the tap at New Belgium Brewery, local and worthy Bas Bleu Theatre Company, the vintage comfort and charm of The Armstrong Hotel.

And Jay’s Bistro, a regular and return destination. 

Go for tapas-inspired happy hour in the lounge, where service is attentive and swift and jazz musicians are at the Baby Grand. Jay’s isn’t a stuffy joint, but don’t go scruffy (this is lounge lounging after all).

A dirty girl at heart, I’m partial to the Bistro B.A.M. (Big Ass Martini) with blue cheese stuffed olives and a blush of brine. The Pomegranate Passion (Pama Pomegranate Liqueur, Absolut Vodka and pomegranate juice) could use a little more tart for my taste, but I managed to kill off two. Happily.

And bonus, just $5.75 each.

Hence the happy.

Along with the insanely good I-could-eat-a-million-of-those White Truffle Potato Chips (cut thick, made in-house) topped with blue cheese crema, tuck into the Hot French Baguette and Blue Cheese Balsamic Dipping Sauce, a creamy emulsion of sweet and tangy and floating cracked black peppercorns.

My only wish is that is came in bowl or soup tureen, the dippy cheese so good I was tempted to clean the crock with a finger once the bread was gone.

Hence the spoon.

Ordered off the dinner menu because, goodness, the Ahi Tuna Poke looked pretty as a picture. Sushi grade tuna marinated in sesame oil, soy and Vietnamese chili on avocado, surrounded and meant to be scooped up with wonton crisps sprinkled with black sesame seeds, a brilliant touch (I craved those crisps for a week after). Poke presentation is stunning, a tower of vibrant color and fresh ingredients. It smelled like the sea.

In a really, really good way.

And although never a fan of fried squid, take the Calamari for a spin through the lemon aioli drizzle and garden fresh marina. I sort of converted.

The Mussels Provencale come plenty to share for just $10, steamed in white wine garlic broth, topped with chewy sundried tomatoes (better than a tomato puree base) and salty capers.

So kids, I guess the moral of this story is make new friends, but keep the old. And go outside, in the fresh air with the real people. You can Poke out there too.

And try the calamari. You don’t have to like it, but at least try it.

Larkburger, Boulder

Today I happened across a raccoon on the side of Highway 36. Nothing makes me sigh more than four fuzzy paws up. I don’t get it; in my decades of driving I’ve struck one bunny, one. Happened when I was 16, fresh and stupid behind the wheel and paying no mind to the road at twilight because Berlin’s “Sex (I’m a…)” was on the radio and my girlfriend Kelle and I were trying to moan like Terri Nunn.

Sorry to harsh your foodie buzz. Keep reading, it gets good.

Destination (again) Boulder, Pearl Street Mall and an open air art show, blocks and blocks and blocks long. After an afternoon of 100-degrees+ and closer-to-god sun braising my shoulders, I was too warm to dine al fresco as planned and headed back out of town. And into Larkburger. Considered The Truffle Burger (a standard 1/3 lb black angus burger with truffle aioli) but also wanted to dive into the infamous in local media Truffle & Parmesan Fries (hand-cut russet potatoes tossed with grated parmesan, Italian parsley and truffle oil) and didn't want to over-do. Plus I chose the optional wrapped in lettuce Larkburger (Tilamook cheddar extra) rather than a carbo-loaded, belly bloating bun.

A bit spendier than some "sit downs" at $9.98 plus tax and service was slow. I waited a good 15 minutes for my food, which may have led to the tepid fries. Didn’t keep me from eating all the way down to the bottom of the basket, mind you. Perfectly salty from the hard cheese sprinkle and better yet dusted with black pepper. Nowhere near as good as the pommes frites-style spuds served up a 1) Lohi SteakBar or 2) Argyll, but good. Just good. Hotter and crispier could have earned them a number three spot.

The burger actually cooked medium as ordered, pink and a little cool (god love 120 degrees and quality beef). The meat (and oddly enough the cheese) both saltier than expected; perhaps the tart zing is cut when eaten in a bun. Slathered in Larkburger sauce, hot and oily once combined with the meat juices, and tasting like a cross between creamy Caesar and tangy cream cheese.

Should I find myself back, curious to try a bite of the highly-touted 5280 Magazine darling the Tuna Burger (wasabi-ginger sauce and cilantro). Bet they cook it like tuna should be, slightly seared.

Another taste of Boulder, another happy mouth on me. Didn’t stop in for a Tea & Cakes cupcake; turns out the Cupcake Truck was in manfriend's hood this weekend and a Red Velvet awaits. Oh and that rose gold and chocolate diamond ring I was eyeing at the art gallery? Turns out it isn’t chocolate stones but champagne. And turns out manfriend would like me to have it too. He watches out for me.

I should pay more attention.

Tea & Cakes, Boulder

Some things just go together. The ying and the yang, the ping and the pang. Boulder and patchouli stink. Love and marriage. Chocolate and bacon.

Though the last two are a bit antiquated now. Old hat. Jenny Pants and Marc Anthony are the latest celebrity couple to call it quits (her third divorce, his second…thanks, TMZ) and the geniuses at Denny’s recently touted a Maple Bacon Sundae (vanilla ice cream sprinkled with bacon and drenched in maple syrup) on their simple menu.

And even as thoughts of forever after and “ring me” dwindle (perhaps in my 80’s with a gray-haired gent who’ll hold my hand in the grocery and call me “Mother”), I admit I dream still of decadent sweet-and-salty desserts.

Especially chocolate and bacon. And especially when it tops the elusive Bacon Chocolate cupcake at Tea & Cakes on Boulder’s Pearl Street. Imagine my surprise one Africa-hot Saturday afternoon strolling and shopping the mall to find Tea & Cakes open for business in the late afternoon. I’d thought (from past experiences) the shop often closed early on weekends, usually because stock depletes fast.



And yes, tiny fresh flowers on the tiny table

But a boy pointing a comically large cardboard arrow that read “Cupcakes!” straight down 14^th Street led me to the shop. 



And the last “Choco Baco,” cake a fluffy maple and shiny icing a seriously deep chocolate, like a swirl of milk and dark; crispy bacon crumbled over top.

Not that I would have been unhappy or droopy poodle with the White on White (white cake topped with vanilla icing), usually a Mon, Tue, Wed, Sun only menu item but there on a Sat. Or a Strawberry Milkshake (strawberry cake, topped with strawberry icing and a cookie.)

But I scored a “ChoBo.” Like it was destiny. Like it was mean to be. 

After, stopped into the gallery across the street where I tried on a cute but modern rose gold ring. Never a fan of any metal other than platinum or silver, but the clerk offered up a coppery hammered band that perfectly complimented my pink skin and long fingers. Meant for my right hand since I'd been thinking how lovely to look down and see a reminder. Of something. A bargain at 60% off the designer price tag, but impossible by nature to size and fitting only my left. Looking closer I saw a glint from tiny stones enveloping the band. 

Chocolate diamonds.

Going back to Boulder for a cupcake and, if still there, the ring. Right or left matters not.

Because some things just go together.

p.s…do yourself a solid and check out the Tea & Cakes web site and blog link to the Craftbeer.com article, “Wedding Bliss – Pairing Craft Beer and Wedding Cake.” Indy bake shops, this is how you do it.

Hideaway Steakhouse, Westminster

I want to get it. I want to embrace you with big meaty arms, Hideaway Steakhouse.

But I don't get it.

Dropped by this weekend for a “community celebration and open house.” Free ground sirloin and camembert sliders with spicy pickles! Complimentary build-your-own ice cream sundae bar on a Saturday!! $3 sangria and Stellas! A full rack of St. Louey Lou style pork ribs with two chef-selected sides – plus a draft beer – for just $19!!

It didn't work.

To be fair it seems the Hideaway marketed the event (via fliers and mail) to the surrounding community where the average age must be 65ish if a day. The interior is pretty and interesting (couple of regulars told us the owner doled out $3 million bones for renovation). Is the joint going for "Mad Men" swagger, fat steaks, stogies and martinis? (don't get me started on the Asian mannequin sitting at the piano…not a player piano). Instead the afternoon unfolded more like Cocoon with cocktails, talk radio's Peter Boyles on the mic broadcasting live, grey haired gents and dolled up older ladies, wrapping bright pink lips around Pall Malls and coughing like espresso machines.

And us a couple of misfits, why don’t we fit in?

The sliders, a swing and miss. With a BIG crowd maybe the kitchen couldn’t keep up but the meat was dry and overcooked, under seasoned and I had to physically stalk a waitress to get a bite. The cranberry based house-made sangria was tart and light but served in a way to skinny glass. Three big pulls from the straw and gone.

Some of the bar menu items looked interesting on paper, but we couldn’t snare a server to order and (truth) lost steam and enthusiasm quickly. We cancelled our 7:45 dinner reservation.

Perhaps we’ll try again, on a night with a full menu and more diverse crowd.

They begin dinner service at 4:30. Huh.

Go Fish, Denver

Don’t know what’s gotten in to me lately. Maybe it's the oppressive heat and forgoing sweaty cardio in favor of A/C (because to quote the funniest movie of the summer, steam from the undercarriage gets caught up in second skin black Lycra); I haven't burnt off crazy energy. Or has the summer solstice sent a froggy monkey wrench into the gears of my circadian rhythms, throwing off natural flows and cycles? Because more than exercise or sex or Bono wailing emotive, it's food that's turning me on. I think of my next meal while eating my current one, fantasizing about sizzling, thick-cut steaks and corn dripping butter. Artichokes oozing molten Maytag blue cheese mixed with real cream, dunking and tearing each wet leaf over tongue and teeth.

I need sushi. I need it bad.

Sushi is sensuous. The act of eating raw protein feels somewhat forbidden and naughty, like no-no sex or tasting a tongue in your mouth. Sushi is salty and sweet, spicy and surprising, meant to be shared in big chewy mouthfuls and eaten with sticks and hands. 

And I get it at Go Fish.

Ask about kitchen secrets, intricate and inventive hand rolls not found on the regular menu. Like The Hawaiian, a huge tuna roll topped with fresh crab and shredded toasted coconut. Give each meaty tower a swim through the white plum salty sauce (dusted with macadamia nuts) surrounding it.

The Triple S (Spicy, Sweet, Sour) delivers each flavor in a love tap of a light punch; but don’t dip into wasabi soy – you’ll miss a layer. Wrapped up in seared spicy tuna and topped with perfectly cubed and vibrant Crayola-colored mango and papaya for sweet, raw asparagus inside for slightly sour.

Presentation is playful and edible; eight pieces  surrounding a flashing neon cube light nestled under a pile of thinly shaved, julienned radish.

For a lighter palate, the "low carb" rolls like the Spicy Tuna Naruto Roll (spicy tuna, crunch and avocado wrapped in cucumber, no rice) offer a clean finish and nice crunch.

The black caviar sprinkled over  sweet and plump shrimp crack and pop in your teeth. Watch out for the spicy tuna hiding inside.

I’ve chronicled my ongoing quest for the best Smoked Salmon Nigiri, and Go Fish is the current and reigning champion. The delicate and happy pink salmon is subtle at first but with a lingering and sweet smoke finish.

If you're not doing it in the raw, the menu at Go Fish is full of Asian eats and a full bar.

The Pineapple Saketini–sake infused with fresh pineapple, stirred with top shelf vodka and served with a potent and long-soaked piece of the fresh fruit–is worth a stop alone. Ended the meal with not just one complimentary pineapple sake shot (always ice cold, always on the house and always delicious) but also a second infusion made that day of cucumber and pineapple.

I asked if I could get a bottle to go.

For after no-no time.