Wooo, my favorite mountain town in the world!
To clarify, I knew about it before all the resta yall, because I got in a ski accident there when I was 6. Just kidding, I'm not a hipster.
But here is what I have to tell you:
If you go, you MUST go to
Mario's, because that's our first stop every time. I write about it all the time because my uncle owns it and it was my first restaurant experience. Chicago pizza, yaaa.
Lobar, for swanky savvy sushi. Get a tiger lily roll, crack fries (they make similar ones at Salt), and a martini that has cinnamon, a fig, vodka, and orange. UNH!! so good!! The owner, Ky, has great style.
Soupçon, where I did not get to go. I ate a gyros that night while my mom ate deconstructed boeuf wellington and lamb and mache. I did get to meet Chef Jason though with the rest of the family while he was prepping foie gras, and he's really cool. The link takes you to his bio. He put up with eight people standing in his kitchen that is maybe the size of two of the one we cooked in last year, minus the cupbords and stuff. I like to think that we bonded over what he put as, "Dormet? That's what I do! I bring food to where there isn't any!" I hope he remembers me. My mom invited him to dinner in Denver.
Camp for Coffee, if you have a thing for license plates, croissants, or taking other peoples' drinks 'accidentally'. It was mostly an accident. I'm sorry. It wasn't my fault. Some lovely Canadians told us we have a movie star family.
Slogar does not have a website. It's a family style restaurant. Go with a bunch of special people. You will eat fried chicken, creamy corn, biscuits, pickles (I still don't get the pickle thing), cinnamon pears, and ice cream. Sneak in something green so that you won't pass out later. My sister's romantic interest "happened" to be in Crested Butte as well, so his family came out with us. Despite our intimidating loudness, I think they liked us ok. They're pretty cool too - I almost fell over when his mom said she'd sat in on Jaques Pepin cooking. And hung out with his granddaughter. And the boy has babysat one relative. I got a little lost because I was so starstruck. Jacques and Julia. The icon of French cooking. 6 Degrees of Separation. No big deal.
|flare parade down the mountain|
West End, a bar with classy steez and the most adept bartender I've ever seen. I haven't watched that many bartenders, but we rolled in about every night and he put up very nicely with 4 underage youth wistfully watching him pour forbidden magic. He also hooked us up with lift tickets. You may also eat there. Bomb-booty cookie plate and the prettiest smore this side of the Mississippi. That was my filter so that my little unexposed cousins can read this post.
|yay new years!!!! eeee!!!!|
And whereever we went for New Years Eve. I danced for three hours to poppy beats in 2 inch Frye boots and it was even better than a high school dance. I danced a foot away from a kid I thought was gay so my uncle threatened to whoop up on him. "HEY! GREEN HAT KID!!!! happynewyear. HEY!! You're going to your OWN chalet tonight, punk."Also, I think someone related to Obama was there. There were lots of light up shutter shades and rings and boas. Its great knowing people who know people.
|they let me go out like that. but i won the game|
Lastly, ourchalethadasauna. So hipster. You should be so jealous that you come with me next time.