Three Out of Seven Ain't Bad: Representing Central America at El Tamarindo

I've driven past the large cowboy boot atop a sign advertising the space on the Southeast corner of Syracuse and Colfax many times. I even stepped inside the boxy building beneath the sunset shadows of this infamous footwear (years before starting this blog) when it was a Salvadorean place. I tasted a good assortment of food from Central America's smallest country only to see it shuttered the next time I tried to go. I wasn't heartbroken, as I can often be when my favorite little restaurants close down, as there are other good pupusas just down the road, but since it has been at least two other places (including one sketchy night club that I think really was called La Bota) since that time, I was understandably hesitant to venture back inside when it re-opened a couple years back as El Tamarindo.

I finally did go the other day, when a craving for some East Colfax fried masa had me scratching my head for a new option on this well-trodden strip of city where Denver meets Aurora. We settled on Tamarindo, which claims to be the only place in Denver where one can enjoy cuisine from all seven countries of Central America.

We took advantage of that claim, ordering the first thing on the menu: Garnachas de carne from Guatemala. A scoop of beef and potato picadillo covered a thick circular base of fried masa not unlike a sope, that was topped with a cabbage slaw, salsa and grated cotija-like cheese. Not sure how they rate on the "just-like-back-in-Guatemala-scale", but every part of it was delicious and it was a fabulous start to our meal.

Next up was a baleada, a Honduran quesadilla-like staple made with a super soft flour tortilla, this one stuffed with silky refried beans and rich crema. It was outstanding, and good to see after the Honduran food truck I stumbled upon last year seems to have disappeared.

The rest of the food as far as I could tell was strictly Salvadorean. And when we ordered the combo platter for four, it became nothing less than a Salvadorean feast.

The feast of course included pupusas. Wonderful, wonderful pupusas. They had that perfect char, a nice proportion of gooey cheese and things like squash, chicharrónes and beans; and though the slaw topping was a little wilted, the bright tomato salsa saved it, as did the respectably spicy house made habenro sauce.

The empanadas were deep fried and filled with the same beef picadillo as the garnachas, which is to say, they were excellent.

We also had the Salvadorean-style enchiladas, meaning nothing like the Mexican or New-Mexican rolls of tortilla most of us know. They are more like a sope as well, and these were just OK as the masa tasted old, and the chicken was flavorless. Also on the not-so-good side were the gigantic tamales. They looked great: fat masa rolls still steaming on top of their banana leaf husks--but they were not great. If it was 1988 and I were my high school self again, I would have said they were, "straight nasty." Dry, flavorless and filled with large chunks of overcooked meat.

The current owners are from El Salvador, which makes sense, given the menu bias. They didn't seem to represent all of Central America that well, but to be fair I didn't get a chance to go over the menu in excruciating detail. I didn't see the typical plates like gallo pinto or vigaron from Nicaragua or Costa Rica. Panama and Belize? Not too familiar with their platos tipicos, but didn't see anything on the menu from there either. So if you are in the mood for some good dishes representing 3/4 of northern Central America, El Tamarindo is your place. In other words, if you want some good Salvadorean food and maybe a sampling of other neighboring countries' dishes, check it out, and if you have time (read: you don't dine with 2 year old twins) maybe you'll see the other Central American specialties I missed. 

Mile High Vienna Beef and Baseball

While it is true that pork and baseball share much in common, and go together like only sweet swine and our nation's past time can, summertime and ball games also beckon for beef. Given that many of you might think I am craving an all-beef hot dog or a big juicy burger is probably part of the reason I have such a hard time finding a beef around here, because they aren't as common as they should be.

Still don't follow me? In Chicago, where the beef was born and bred, you say "beef" and mouths start watering, as clearly you are talking about the Italian beef sandwich. Of course, in Chicago most everyone is fat (literally 67% of the population is overwieght or obese according to their own website), so I'm not saying that is necessarily a good thing, but it sure would be nice to find a really great beef in this town, and if it takes adding a few more inches to our collective waistlines, might it not just be worth it?

I have had some pretty good beefs in and around Denver but again and again readers have directed me to Mile High Vienna Beef on Santa Fe. For whatever reason I have still not made it down there, but last year they opened up a stand just steps from the ballpark downtown, and now that my boys are of baseball-going age, we ended up there a few weeks into the season.

Judging on appearances, mile high Vienna has everything it needs, which is to say, it s pretty plain looking-- just some sports memorabilia, a TV and a big menu board. Beef requires nothing fancy, and in fact it probably is safe to say that its good taste is inversely proportional to the fanciness of the place where it is served. Based on this science-like fact, I was looking forward to my first Mile High beef. 

We ordered dogs for the kids which were pretty straightforward. I didn't try them, as I was here for bigger and better things. My wife was apparently ready for even bigger things than me, though I'm not sure it was better.

That is a picture of a large Italian sausage under a full sandwich's worth of Italian beef. The picture does not do its size justice, and I don't think any picture would really give you the full experience. In order to really understand what it was like, you only had to listen to my wife's groaning and moaning after eating only half of this monstrosity.  

I, on the other hand, for once in my life, ordered somewhat responsibly, and stuck with a simple beef with hot peppers. 

It was a decent beef. The meat was tender, the giardiniera hot, the bun thoroughly soaked, and it had a nice, full, beefy taste. One of the better I've had in Denver's city limits. I'm not so hung up on finding a perfect beef any more in Denver, though with all the Chicagoans that continue to move here en masse, and the Chicago-style pizza joints that have recently opened (and on my radar), I wouldn't be surprised if a really great beef comes along soon. Until then, Mile High Vienna Beef will do the trick though I think I'll be trying a few Chicago dogs next time I am there. 

FDR, Pig's Feet and an Event For You

It continues to amaze me that I get asked to publicize events, attend media promotions--or really to do anything that relies on the assumption that because I have chosen to publish my thoughts about food on the internet, that people out there for some reason: a) read, b) care about, or even harder to believe, c) act upon what ends up on my blog. But I like to imagine that in the publicity business they still say, “There is no such thing as bad publicity,” in which case I suppose I can understand. And every once in a while (for the good or bad of the event I don't know), something comes along that I feel compelled to share.

June 8, Denver’s own soul food scholar, Adrian Miller, will be giving a talk called, “Black Chefs of the White House,” as a fundraiser for the Campbell Chapel African Methodist Episcopal Church's health and wellness ministry and the Colorado Black Health Collaborative at the Turnhalle Ballroom at the Tivoli Student Union. And there won't just be talking about food, your ticket includes a meal that represents food made by the many black chefs in the white house all the way from George Washington to our current chef to the chief.

If you have read this much blog before then you know that what I love most about the country that we live in is the blurring of cultures, traditions and authenticity. Learning that African Americans have been omnipresent in the White house kitchen staff does not surprise me, but to imagine the day FDR fell in love with pig's feet, or that LBJ used the experiences of his African American cook to lobby for the 1964 civil rights act is certainly something I want to hear more about.

So if your curiosity is piqued, too, check out the event details.

Ace Eat Serve My Kids

Not too long ago I bitched and moaned about a sorry list of kid-friendly eat spots in Denver put together by someone that I can only hope wasn't really trying all that hard. I also promised I wouldn't turn this blog into a kid-centric restaurant blog-- and I won't--- but when you go out to eat with a pair of toddlers on a regular basis, places that treat your kids well and keep them happy go quickly to the top of your list. And sometimes it happens when you are least expecting it.

Such was the case with Denver's relatively new Ace Eat Serve, which has become instantly popular due to its affiliation with neighboring hipster institution Stueben's--and its ping pong tables don't hurt either. Sure ping pong sounds kid friendly I suppose, but when I think new hip restaurant in uptown, I don't immediately round up the wife and squirmy two-year olds and pile in the Wagon Queen Family Truckster.

But Ace is fully prepared to take good care of your kids. Ours were greeted with the typical coloring placemats and crayons, but also diverse menu options, of which we chose the steamed bun plate.

It came out on a brilliant red tray, the cool kind with all the dividers and shit. Besides the steamed bun, there was a pile of bright green edemame and a fruit salad of strawberries and mango. And for utensils? Tong-like kiddie chopsticks.

Ace got everything right for my kids and the adult plates that got passed were also mostly very good, but among some flashes of brilliance was some mediocrity. On the good side were the crispy beef and fried Brussels sprouts. The thin strips of honey-ginger sweet beef were wholly satisfying and crispy indeed; while the (also crispy) Brussels sprouts and chiles were simply perfect.

The soup dumplings were also good. Simple foods like this often are, and Ace did well to leave it alone.

On the not-so-good side was a fish dish that my wife ordered. So forgettable, in fact, that I don't remember anything else about it.

Also worth mentioning was the admirable though not very spicy house made kim chi. And the airy steamed buns filled with braised short ribs.

While my kids did enjoy eating with tongs (they really do, and would attempt to eat every meal with big BBQ tongs if allowed), they love little bits of ice even more. For dessert Ace offers flavored, shaved ice--for free. My boys slurped and savored in silence for the last 10 to 15 minutes of the meal. That is nothing short of miraculous.

I loved Ace. Maybe not for every single plate I ate, but for how much my kids ate, and how well we were all treated. So parents, add this one to your list, and for you fun loving single kid-less types, don't worry, we all eat dinner at like 5:30, so we will be out of your hair long before anything really fun could happen anyway.

Jolly Me and Jollibee: Filipino Fast Food in Seattle

A few weeks back I was in the refreshingly rainy hamlet of Seattle to rendezvous with my Pinoy peeps and to soak in the city, as it were. And in between brief rays of sun (minutes at best), rain it did; and though we did spend some quality time outdoors, we did oft seek shelter indoors.

Besides the wet stuff that falls from the sky, Seattle is different from Denver in other ways. It is, for example, home to many, many Filipino expats and their inevitable extended families. This was equally as refreshing to me as the 4 days of more or less continuous rain showers, because as I have said before, Denver is sorely lacking Filipinos.

You may remember from my other posts that Filipinos love the mall, so it should be no surprise that in south Seattle, where the Filipino population is most concentrated, there is a fabulously Filipino mall. I am not one to take much pride or joy in the Filipino mall-loving tradition. Maybe it is because I am but 50 percent Pinoy (I don't care for boxing much either), though whatever the case I was thrilled to go to Seattle's Southcenter mall, and not just because of the pouring rain, but because it has Jollibee.

Don't know jollibee? Jollibee is the face in Filipino fast food. Well, at least the Jollibee jolly bee is.

Jollibee is a fantastic (or not-so-fantastic, depending on you taste) mix of fried chicken, burgers and a handful of Filipino-inspired bites like the spam burgers that were recently featured on Bourdain's "new" CNN show. But my family comes here for their love of fried chicken.

"Fried chicken?" you may wonder. Yes, although love of fried chicken has been stereotypically associated with other ethnic groups, the Filipino love of crispy, breaded chicken proves how stupid stereotypes really are. That being said, who doesn't love fried chicken? I mean, even if you are a vegetarian, or don't eat the stuff, I doubt it is because you don't like the taste of fried chicken skin and juicy, tender chicken flesh. Is there a stereotype for people who don't love fried chicken?

The chicken, although "crispylicious", is not entirely unlike other fast food chicken you might come across in the US (save for the side of steamed rice), and it is not as good as in other chicken hubs of the Philippines (like Max's, which I learned is in Vancouver), but it is a taste of home for many and that is likely why we waited almost 10 minutes in line just to order.

Was it worth it? Maybe. Certainly for the nostalgia and the halo halo, a uniquely Filipino dessert made up of beans, candied fruits, ice cream and many other treats that may or may not sound appealing at first all mixed together--but it is simply fantastic. You can enjoy a very good version of halo-halo at Denver's own Sunburst Grill, but this portable Jollibee version more than did the trick. My wife tore into it before I had a chance to snap a photo, and the photo is shaky as I had to literally wrest it from her hands and then dodge her loving blows as I snapped it.

This mall was so full of Filipinos that it also was home to a Filipino evangelical church and a full-on Filipino market that reeks wonderfully of freshly fried fish all day and night. Old Filipino men take over entire sections of the mall to play cards. So next time you are in Seattle and want a fun Filipino experience, head out of the rain and into the Southcenter Filipino Shopping Center.