Volume 4, Issue 18
September 4 - September 17, 2002
1890 Wynkoop
303-296-0023
I'd not heard great things about the service at the Keg Steakhouse down on Wynkoop and 19th, and their inane billboard advertisements made me cringe. However, beggars can't be choosers, so when I finally received an invitation to the Keg from 'Kevin,' a friend of a friend of a gal I worked with, I made plans to meet him.
I spotted Kevin hovering out front as I parked my scooter. From his adorable online family album, I'd pictured someone rugged and outdoorsy. He instead looked as if a light poke to the stomach would launch an unconscious imitation of the Pillsbury dough boy. He was cute, and not in a good way. More of a troll doll cute. He also had a puppy dog quality about him, and as I approached him, I could imagine his tail wagging double time. He grabbed my hand and exclaimed, "SO good to meet you!" He was overanxious and overexcited, and I half expected him to put his front paws on my shoulders and lick my face. Or pee himself.
Smiling rather disturbingly, he led me inside the dark wood, painting-stuffed interior. I liked the dark wood, but was a bit creeped out by the photorealist paintings that reflected in the multiple mirrors hung in the foyer and bar, and made it look like a room full of frozen patrons. We were seated and then Kevin did the unforgivable--he started to hand the menus back to the waiter. "We won't be needing these, we're just having drinks." I tried to hide the flames I felt were ready to spring from my eyes and smiled sweetly at the waiter. "Actually," I said, slipping one of the menus back out of his hands, "I'll be having dinner." From the look on Kevin's face I knew the score. I knew this tactic: impress a girl by inviting her out to a nice joint without ever saying the word 'dinner,' and then, upon arrival, just get drinks and act like that's all that was ever intended. I had expected dinner, and I was going to get dinner.
I let Kevin ramble on about his terrible idea for a commercial for his misguided and 10-years-too-late products as I perused the menu. It was pretty boring. It contained the general staples steakhouses had been serving since the time of my grandparents: mostly meat and potatoes, and nothing that you couldn't get at four or five other restaurants in the area.
The waiter came back with our drinks, a Sapphire and tonic for him and some sort of vegetable-laden tomato juice concoction that was definitely not the dirty Cajun martini I ordered. The waiter apologized and ran back to the bartender, who didn't know how to make my drink. I explained, and within a few minutes, received the right drink with more apologies. Kevin had been droning on the whole time, and I realized he hadn't asked a single thing about me. I felt like the sounding board for his boring life. I ordered a couple of appetizers and the salmon. The drink would help numb me enough to survive the date, and the food would make up for the waste of my time.
The first appetizer, the baked garlic shrimp, contained six bite-sized shrimps settled into little cups of garlic butter under a layer of cheese. The bread served with it was a thin-sliced, unexciting white and only two pieces were offered. I guess they assume that you'll use the basket of bread. I had also ordered the escargot stuffed in mushroom caps, which were earthy and enhanced by the herbs and garlic, but the texture of the escargot was a bit chewy and stood out badly against the tender mushrooms.
All of the initial eagerness had drained out of Kevin like a dog out too long in the sun. He was obviously ready for the date to be over, though that somehow did not stop the steady stream of "Me, Me, Me" coming out of his mouth. I, fortunately, was liquored up enough to ignore him, and the more he talked, the more I could concentrate on the one good thing about the date: the food. The salmon was moist, and though I'm not sure what 'citrus herb' is, I'm guessing it is in the lemon grass family, and that clean lemony flavor had seeped into the flesh. The tomato salsa was a strange choice, but the flavors were interesting together. However, the vegetables were all wrong. I know they weren't intended to be served with the fish, but I'm not sure what they would go well with. Most of the veggies were steamed and slightly herbed, but the broccoli was soaked in a teriyaki-like sauce. The mashed potatoes were better, but I found myself wishing for some kind of sauce that would tie the potatoes and fish together, like gravy ties potatoes to other meats.
When the check came, Kevin looked over at me hopefully and I gave him my best "don't even think about it" look. Once the bill was taken care of, we walked to the door, I smiled widely at him, thanked him for the dinner, and he wordlessly slunk away, with his tail between his legs. show.
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