Housed in a turn-of-the-century brick building, the Tavern is the latest in a long line of saloons that have occupied this space since the '30s. The vibe is a little less manic - and a lot less fancy - at the Highland Tavern, a big, classic American-style joint at the base of 34th and Navajo, where gentrification has come more slowly. Or so it appears on a Friday night, when lines coil outside not one, but two gourmet ice cream shops (Little Man Ice Cream and the Red Trolley), and the local dinner spots have no room at the counter bar, no open tables, not even for locals. Ever since Lola traded its South Pearl Street digs for a risky new home in the old Olinger Mortuary complex in 2006 - and then proceeded to pack in the crowds every day and night of the week - new restaurants have popped up like dandelions in the cracks of the neighborhood, in retrofitted, modernized old buildings previously left for dead.Īnd just when it seems that entropy should kick in - that there are simply too many restaurants in too small an area - another one pops up and thrives. The Lower Highland restaurant boom can be traced to the latest wave of immigrants to the area: mostly white, moderately affluent couples who bring with them higher rental rates, a new nickname with more curb appeal ("LoHi") and expensive, excellent restaurants. But you can also drop $15 on a duck sandwich. It started with the pasta joints and delis built by the Italians in the '30s, '40s and '50s, followed by the taquerías and roving burrito carts that came with the Chicano migration in the '60s.įortunately, you can still find a good, cheap slice of pizza or a generous plate of spicy green chile for under five bucks here. The north side has always been a pretty good place to eat, thanks to waves of ethnic groups that moved in and set up shop and kitchens, building sedimentary layers of culinary culture. Extend the boundary by one block to the Platte River and you pick up another seven: a sushi place, a gourmet pizza shop, a wine bar/coffee shop, a date-night destination, a teahouse, an organic breakfast joint and an ancient bar room famous for serving perfect hamburgers all the way to closing time.Ĭount them any way you want, there are a lot of restaurants in the 80211 - approximately one for every 300 residents of Denver's original suburb, which began its life as a wealthy purist enclave, the original planned community, separated from the rest of the dirty city not by a gate, but by a river. Like everything else at the Highland, it was really good - even if I wasn't sure why.There are more than forty restaurants in Denver's Lower Highland neighborhood, and that's if you stop counting at I-25. Rock & Rye, Rock Candy and Rye, Rock & Rye Sour all sounded fine, but I finally learned that I was drinking a Rock-A-Bye ($6.50), made with house-made Rock & Rye and a variation of a true Rock & Rye, the bartender said: Russell's Reserve Rye Whiskey base with rock candy and citrus, soda and lime. Perhaps it was because Motörhead was playing, loudly (at least 11, but close to 12) that I heard the drink's name wrong the first three times. But at least the bartender took my request seriously, and worked hard to make me the perfect cocktail. The food sounds like quintessential tavern-type fare, but it's so much better-tasting than typical tavern food that I feel like I should dub the place a "gastrotavern." I'm pretty sure the owners would sneer at such snobbery, though, so I'll just call it what it is: a great neighborhood bar with a really great kitchen - and customers who mocked me when I asked for a specialty cocktail.
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