The little episode of non-diet friendly yet delicious wine led us soon to the main course of the evening, our dinner at Vesta Dipping Grill. I was skecpical of this place at first: the menu was all, MEAT! Meat meat! MEEAATTT! And that rarely enough to turn this girl's head.
But they presented us with a flaming bowl of alcohol, so I took one swig, perked up and chirped, "meat, meat!" right back at them.
We put on our tourist faces and snapped picture of each other slurping lava from our bar volcano.
I do realize that every fruity sip is counterintuitive to all of those leg lifts and knee raises. But I've never been faced with a flaming boat drink in Denver, CO. I'm living the life (but with additional ab cruches).
We followed with dinner libations of Dark and Stormie's (it was, after all) to set off our trio of appetizers (rock shrimp tempura, samosas and dumplings - talk about eclectic). I nudged Ben toward ordering the venison dinner (ick - but I knew he would like it) and enjoyed the chicken myself.
One of the gimmicks of this restaurant is that you order 3 sauces to go with your meat. However, Ben and I agreed that the meat was so well cooked that it held its own, sauce-less. But if you go, the Blake Street Barbecue sauce is to die for.