Denver

Colfax Avenue is the longest commercial street in the United States. It’s over fifty-three miles long, from the foothills of the Colorado Rockies all the way through the capital of Denver and out to the Eastern plains. It is littered with single-story, seedy roadside motels, some with working neon signage and some without. Hemp shops and dispensaries have moved in now as well. East of Denver, it has gained a sort of urban-legend reputation for sex work, vagrancy, crime and as of late, migrant gang activity. However, West Colfax is legendary for another reason. Nestled in the corner of a semi-rundown strip mall in the suburb of Lakewood, next to a coin-op laundromat and a Dollar Store, sits the mythological pastel-pink stucco tower of Casa Bonita.

I’ll fight you to the death on this one: Colorado’s dining scene is hotter than a habanero.  A land-locked state within spitting distance of the culinary vacuum that is the Midwest (sorry, Chicago) might not spring to mind for its food scene. But nods from the Michelin guide prove the Mile High City and wider Colorado have a story to tell, minted in September 2023. I hopped in the Subaru and sampled a smattering of them, from Denver’s farm-to-table outposts, to whimsical epicurean adventures in Aspen, via stylish Italian brunches in Boulder. Denver Glo Noodle House 4450 W 38th Ave, Denver, CO 80212 As a tourist, you’ve got to hit Denver Biscuit Company for brunch, once.

To beat the killer combination of jet lag and altitude on arrival in the Mile High City, use the tools at your disposal — or local dispensary. I advise newcomers to: Jog around Cheesman Park and the Botanic Gardens in bright sunshine, or thick snow (likely both) Buy up all the melatonin in Walgreens Drink copious local beers Have a smoke, if that’s your jam Grab a meal Hit the hay Repeat as necessary Denver’s bursting with shiny new concept restaurants and kitsch little nooks to drop into; so my muddled brain was grateful for any steer. I hounded discerning friends for recommendations, downloaded Stoned Appetit (a genius app full of the best spots to satisfy the munchies), and took aim at anywhere with a James Beard nod.

“What the f—” “Don’t look directly at it. I’m serious, that thing is cursed.”  My childhood best friend Sofie has just scooped me up from the epicenter of weirdness that is Denver International Airport, one hand on the steering wheel, the other blocking my view of a thirty-five-foot, bright blue fiberglass horse rearing at nothing in particular. I’m sleep-deprived, but I’m not seeing things. “Why are its eyes burning red?” “Not sure. The man who built it died during construction. Blucifer fell on him and severed a main artery.” I’ve no energy left for questions. I’m fresh from nine hours in a tin can sitting next to an effusive new “friend,” insistent on sharing conspiracy theories linked to our destination.

Arriving to spend a month in Denver, Colorado, decision-paralysis hit me like a ton of bricks. Almost as hard as the altitude. And the jet lag. I’d dreamed of downing tools come the weekend, hopping in the car to explore different ski towns at the tail end of the season. What a life locals have, so close to some of the best skiing in the world. But with thirty-two resorts, how to choose? And more importantly, get there? Local friends quickly schooled me on the (insane) highway traffic to the mountains and reminded me to check for snow storms up top. Denver weather is famously mercurial during the springtime. “What should I pack?” I’d phoned to quiz my host, surrounded by thermal leggings, bikinis, summer dresses and snow boots. “Everything,” came the reply. Right then.

Major League Baseball’s All-Star Game was never supposed to be political. It was designed as a casual gathering of the league’s best players to showcase their best skills. That all changed of course when the MLB decided to move the game out of Atlanta over Democrat calls to boycott the state over Georgia’s new voting law. The decision was rash, illiterate to the text of the law and based mostly on tweets and half-truths from popular celebrity Democrats like Stacey Abrams, along with Georgia senators, who later backtracked. When the MLB changed its mind, it transformed itself into a political league and its All-Star Game into a political lightning rod. Therefore the league has no excuse for dodging the political issues of the day.