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YIN & YANG
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DELORENZO'S
DELICACY SHOP
So the story starts off innocently enough,
then twists and turns like the roller coaster
I've come to call my life. So fasten your seat belts, hide all
pets, take small bites, use a number two
pencil and have your tickets ready: the
tour is leaving now!
This buddy of mine gives me a gift certificate
to some crab joint for the holidays.
I'm thinking it's a pretty good gift
since all I've ever given him was a hard
time. I didn't flash on the fact that
somebody I didn't really get along with
had just given me crabs as a gift!
It started with the hostess (and I use the
term loosely) whose face was pulled
into a permanent exasperated sneer.
Mistress Crabella, as we'll call her,
decided to show me to a table (even
though it was obviously beneath her) by
saying in a very stern, almost matronly
voice, "Just follow me," and briskly
walking away. "Oh, thank you Mistress,
a table isn't necessary, I'll just lick my
dinner off your boots," I thought to
myself.
As the Evil One led me through the dining/
torture chamber, I noticed a shark
head amidst the various fishing paraphernalia
adorning the walls, and was
surprised by how much its baleful glare
reminded me of Crabella's. Hey, I get it:
crab joint, crabby hostess, funny, yeah
RIIIIIGHT!
Then there was the food. It was a study
in minimalism at best: my plate consisted
of a few smatterings of seafood leftovers
and a couple of sad little crushed
crab legs. Yes, I said crushed, not
cracked, probably by the boot heel of
my Mistress, lending a depth to my torture
that I'm sure Mistress Crabella
would have bared a fang over, had she
not been busy pouring hot oil on someone's
open wounds or something. After
leaving the place I stopped off for a
burger and headed home.
A week or so passed before I returned to
my notes about my crustaceous misadventure,
but the memory had burned in
my mind every day since. After typing
with a vengeance that almost made my
fingers bleed, all I had left to finish was
the restaurant's hours and such to cap
off a real smoker of a review. So I called
information -- no such listing. I know I
didn't dream this, I really was at a crab
joint -- so I decide to go back to the
crab dungeon to get the info I needed.
"See I knew it was here," I thought to
myself as I reached for the door, then I
saw the note taped inside the window.
"CLOSED UNTIL FURTHER
NOTICE," punctuated by a chain
around both door handles. Stepping
back I thought, "This is like some weird
'Twilight Zone' episode." Then just as
the "Twilight Zone" theme song started
in my head, it hit me. I am the psychic
food critic! I can see and shape the
future with my word possessor! I can
close down restaurants! I alone have the
power!
Reeling from the giddiness of my psychic
power I stumbled across the entry-way
into this classy deli joint. Dean, the
owner, came out to greet me, and before
I could ask about the untimely demise
of Mistress Crabella, the smell of
French bread and spiced meats make me
immediately hungry, so I figured,
LET'S EAT! I decided to let fate continue
to guide my day and let him suggest
what I should have.
The Dagwood sandwich was the verdict
and away he went. It turns out that
Friday is actually "FRYday" at
Delorenzo's, because they give out a
complimentary basket of steak fries to
munch on while you wait. The place had
a real classy vibe: fresco-style still life
murals on every wall, and a couple
monster gift baskets on display, too big
for even me to carry. It turns out this
place does gift baskets, catering, and
even serves made-to-order waffles and
omelets for breakfast ... and the coffee is
on them between 7 and 8 am! The
crowd was a nice mix of business types
and computer geek freaks, and then, of
course, those of us with psychic abilities
shaping the world quietly and secretly
right under the very noses of the unsuspecting
masses. I was shaken from my
plans of world domination by the arrival
of my lunch. There it sat before me,
three-and-a-half inches high in all its
splendor. Three pieces of marbled rye
layered with ham turkey, bacon, Swiss
and American cheeses, various veggies,
and condiments including the "secret
sauce." Although my psychic abilities
allowed me in on the secret, I'll keep the
details to myself, saying simply that it's
so good, if I listed the ingredients, you'd
eat this paper. This was one massive
sandwich, even for a master of the universe
like myself, but I dove in both
hands (that's what it took to hold it) and
devoured it. Now that was a meal! All in
all this had been a gem of a lunch experience
to come from a fiasco of a dinner.
Too weird, kind of a yin and yang of
1801 Wynkoop. If you want a really
good and pretty cheap lunch experience,
Delorenzo's is the place. Hey, in light of
my new found telekinetic abilities
maybe this place will be open seven
days a week and stay open even later.
Well, the owner actually said they were
planning to do that anyway.
Nonetheless, it is I who continues to
shape and mold the Denver dinning
scene ... me, yes, MEEEEE!
Next I may turn my powers of telekinetic
persuasion to politics where I will
bring the country to a standstill by confusing
the vote counters and ... uh, oh
yeah, I already did that.
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