Eating Out Denver: The Diner Chronicles

During our trip to Denver a few weeks ago, me and my girlfriend – a woman of infinite mystery and treacherous hormone injections – spent a lot of time in diners. (I’d like to think that it had less to do with our general thriftiness, and more to do with feeling the cozy comfort of a home-cooked meal in a non-pretentious setting, but then I’d be lying to myself.) Some of them were good. Some of them weren’t. But all of them served us food.

Here, then, are my grades and critiques of the diners where we, um, dined. In order, from worst to first:

4. Tom’s Diner, 601 E Colfax Ave

One of our last nights in Denver was spent here. I got lemonade that smelled like soap and a Denver omelet with watery eggs and burnt hash browns. My lady got clam chowder that smelled like Lindsay Lohan’s vagina, and tasted like Britney’s, post-fetal delivery.

Also, the waitress gave me some attitude when I asked for straws, and the intrusive bowling video game that sat on our table (about the same size as one of those mini-jukeboxes) was broken and kept on blinking strange symbols at me, probably warning me about the chowder. It might have the most interesting late-night clientele in Denver however, seeing as there were signs all around the diner prominently displaying that between the hours of 10pm and 6am you have to pay as soon as you get your meal.

Grade: D+

3. Pete’s Kitchen, 1962 E. Colfax Ave.

The single night we ate there – lines of hipsters kept us from visiting the joint a second time – I got a Chili-Burger, which was essentially a plate of meat with a side of meat, and my female companion got Chicken Rice soup with Lemon. The meat plate was disappointing, as I expected an actual burger that I could hold, and not have to eat with a knife and fork; holding my food brings out my caveman side. Also, my meal had a side of “hash browns” that were nothing more than burnt slices of potatoes.

Seriously, how do you fuck up hash browns?

Grade: C

2. Denver Diner, 740 W Colfax Ave (visit their MySpace page here)

The Denver Diner stood out to us because of the angelic white light shining through its mostly glass exterior, a glowing beacon of greasy bacon. We found it on our way home from one of our many excursions into Denver’s independent CinemaLand.

(One positive of Denver’s extraordinary film community: Immediate access to pretty much any movie released; think of it as a mini-LA that way. One negative: Having to sit in small theaters with highly pretentious folks who feel the need to comment on what they are seeing with either audible gasps or whispers to their viewing partners. They’re almost as bad as the ones who answer their cell phones. It seems that most of the annoying talking in theaters comes from the two extremes of intelligence – the lower end who don't know any better, and the higher end who don't give a shit.)

I ordered a superb Ham, Turkey & Cheese Melt, while my hormonal partner got the pea soup. Both were good enough.

Grade: B

1. Mama’s Cafe, 2001 E Colfax Ave

“Best diner in the area. Promise. Don't get sucked in by Pete's Diner's hype,” says an anonymous poster on a wikimapia page she made specifically for Mama’s.

(To be clear, I made the anonymous web page creator a women for two reasons: (1) My internal programming forces me to make all anonymous or imaginary personalities females to prevent me from second-guessing my sexual preference; (2) The quote sounds kind of cunty.)

The night we arrived, it was two in the morning and we were just looking for someplace to get food. Our two choices were the aforementioned Pete’s Kitchen, and this odd-looking Mama’s Cafe, housed in a converted IHOP building, complete with the trademark horrendous roof. Pete’s Kitchen was packed, hipsters spilling out into the street, smoking as they waited in line. Kiddy-corner was Mama’s. The signs on the window advertised $2.99 Breakfast Burrito, but their special-of-the-day was no waiting.

We headed inside, sat down immediately, ordered (she got the toast, I got some omelet), got our meal in 5 minutes, scarfed down our meals, paid a miniscule bill, and headed home for some sleep. It was such a pleasant experience that we ended up at Mama’s for two more meals on our week-long trip.

One of those times I made the mistake of ordering the Chicken Parmesan. It wasn’t horrible, just a waste of a meal. But that’s what I get for disobeying the 46th rule of Diner Dining: Never order Italian food. Even the waitress was making funny faces and muttering under her breath when I ordered. Of course that could have been her tourettes: a unique and unexpected bonus (for free too!) that made Mama's Diner our best dining experience in Denver.

Grade: A