The anti-Thanksgiving Thanksgiving edition
Ah, Thanksgiving, the quintessential American holiday. Centered on one gut-busting, multi-course meal, the day is augmented by hours of football, gratuitous napping, and an overwhelming amount of time spent with annoying and/or drunk family members. Like a red, white, and blue eagle that pecks at apple pie and poops liberty, Thanksgiving is a day created to relish in how important patriotism is—or to remind us that the mall actually closes once or twice a year. But there are ways to give thanks without putting up with all of the hassles. Lonely? Need a break from the fam? Want something new? We here at The A.V. Club thought it would be nice to get out from in front of the television and take Thanksgiving on the road—with a skewed version of the gluttonous feast made up of dishes from some local favorites.
Skip the sauce. Go straight for a cranberry mimosa: Nothing works up a healthy appetite like a fine alcoholic beverage. As an apéritif, mimosas are without equal. Sometimes, though, the sweetness of the orange juice—and it’s real OJ if you’re lucky—can be a bit too sticky. Enter the magical cranberry mimosa. Made of champagne and tart, dark cranberry juice to soften the boozy edges, it’s like drinking carbonated Ocean Spray with a buzz. Lola (1575 Boulder St., 720-570-8686), an upscale Mexican restaurant just outside downtown, offers cranberry mimosas on its weekend brunch menu. As a starting point for the Thanksgiving odyssey, LoLa is likely to be refreshingly low on turkey and turkey-themed decor. Plus, the view of downtown is spectacular, just right for sipping on cran and champers. Sauce is for suckers.
Freedom fries—more patriotic than mashed potatoes: Trade in blobs of mashed potatoes and gravy for a gooey pile of Steuben’s (523 E. 17th Ave., 303-830-1001) gravy fries. Yep, it’s giant heap of french fries ladled with gravy and topped with melted mozzarella cheese. And yep, it’s disturbingly delicious. Steuben’s fries are fantastic on their own, perfectly browned, generously salted, and tasting—gasp!—like real potatoes. A dollop of old-school brown gravy and a fistful of cheese on top, and you have a solid basis for a bout of drinking, or the makings of a pre-turkey nap. The dish is much like poutine, a treasured Canadian delicacy, but without chunky cheese curds. (This is America, after all. We use shredded cheese like decent people.) Dining at Steuben’s is kind of like being at Grandma’s house, too: The streamlined, ‘50s-garage ambience, comfort food, and occasional crying child make it just like an awkward night with the in-laws you don’t know that well. Except Steuben’s speakers are usually bumping Radiohead and The Walkmen, not Mario Lanza and Johnny Mathis.
The zero-carve turkey sandwich: The whole turkey-carving thing is overrated. Sure, it’s fun to eat stuffing out of the gaping cavity where the bird’s major organs used to be and to wield an electric carving knife after a few beers, but it's also dangerous and requires more effort than just getting up off the couch. Avoid the big-bird business and cut to the inevitable conclusion: the turkey sandwich. At Parsley (303 W. 11th Ave., 303-893-7914), the Cherokee sandwich comes draped in finery that puts traditional turkey fixins in the garbage where they belong. Dig this: turkey, roasted green chilies, pepper-jack cheese, chipotle aioli, tomatoes, and onions on fresh ciabatta. Sounds good, right? Plus, it’s spicy, and sweet Jesus knows that spicy food is virtually outlawed at the average Thanksgiving table.
A perfect pie substitution: Snooze is the word on Thanksgiving. Sleeping late, dozing in a recliner, or letting your face meet your aunt’s scratchy Berber carpet—it’s time to bask in the old-fashioned tradition of holiday laziness. Snooze (2262 Larimer St., 303-297-0700) is also the place to put the finishing touch on an unofficial Turkey Day tour. Snooze, the sunny “A.M. eatery,” is always big on seasonal items, especially when it comes to pancakes. This time of year the menu features the “Fall Classic” pancake, a plate-sized monster that’s better for dessert than breakfast. It has bites of apple baked right into the cake, turning it into a fine substitute for apple pie. On top, there’s crunchy streusel and a generous scoopful of maple-flavored crème anglaise—a light, sweet white sauce that stands in for syrup. This pancake is no joke, and a solo Thanksgiving dessert isn’t much fun, so be sure to bring along a fellow American.
