Foodie

About four or five years ago, Terry, myself and a few friends, sat down and contemplated (for months) how to open a market that would just sell local goods. The timing was too early. People wondered where they would get their bananas. Luckily, that didn't deter Shannon and Todd from opening up Denver's first "all local" market, In Season Local Market.

They occupy a space in Lohi (Lower Highlands) off of 32nd and Wyandot. The space is tiny, but the necessities are all there. There is also a nice patio that will usher in the fruits of summer harvest. We went to the grand opening on Saturday. Rubbed elbows with the neighbors. There was an overwhelming feeling of "it's about time".

I'm not sure how I may concisely summarize the "Field to" part, but i will try. Last year while at a dinner party,RMR Pheasant Terry and Rachel got into a discussion about where our food comes from. Many of us have been having this dialogue for quite awhile- spawned from people like, author Michael Pollan, and movements across the country focused on sustainability and the 'locavore'. But out of their conversation came an idea- "What if we learned how to hunt our food and bring it to the table, and in the process document it on the camera." [that is summarized of course]

Well a year later and they managed to take hunter's safety classes, gun classes, serendipitously found a guide, bought and borrowed gear, went duck-deer-pheasant hunting, cleaned their own birds and rabbit and planned a dinner for twelve to culmintate it all. In the words of Lexie Justice, "Rock On Crouton".

The supper club is not a new concept. However, It is a new addition to the Denver dining scene- we seem to be about two years on the uptake with food trends [cupcake and cereal bars ring a bell]. Phil Armstrong, founder of Hush and a partner at Green Spaces, contacted Terry for some Cook Street assistance with the event. Without hesitation, she agreed. This new partnership did not guarantee us a seat at the table, but we did get on the wait list.

Most of you know my absolute adoration for the stuff. Many of you may argue that it is beyond love, perhaps bordering on obsession. Being from the South, one may think that I was conceived from it, born in a field of grain. That most certainly there is a strain in my DNA directly connected to the brown elixir. Funny thing is, I didn’t really start drinking the stuff until I moved to Colorado. I don’t recall what my poison was when my residence was in Georgia, something clear and clean. But whiskey, conjured up visions of Kappa Deltas putting straws in pints of Jim Beam freshly plucked from the freezer. Whiskey just seemed SO college, and lord knows I didn’t need any reminders of that.

T wanted very much to go out to eat last night. And “nothing cheap,” she interjected.
We invited our friends Nancy and Katie to join us for the evening. Nancy did some power research on options–basically plucking coveted stamens out of Jason Sheehan’s crocus of restaurant reviews. It came down to Firenze a Tavola (the basement at Parisi) or Mel’s Agave Grill.. The Agave was nixed from the list due to its rather unfortunate location: Greenwood Village. So we decided to meet at Parisi at 7:30.

Well here are the final stats on consumption.
Oh my.

It’s been eleven years ago, almost to the day. Dawn and Karen had invited me to join them for dinner at a new little restaurant in Capitol Hill called Potager. I walked into this space- which used to be a Laundromat- now converted into an open and inviting eatery with brick walls and white table clothes.

I love where we live. Not just Denver, but Westside. I love that it takes me two minutes on my bike to get to the confluence of Cherry Creek and Platte River. I love that we sit perched above the city.