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[yourhumps]

Ah, Slice Works Pizza ...

… I pretty much love you.

The second I walked into your freestanding storefront nestled anachronistically among sex shops and liquor stores along East Colfax, an employee was encouraging me to put it in my mouth — and it wasn’t even dirty. It was instead a mouth-watering sample of gourmet...

[yourhumps]

Ah, Cereal Boxes at Jelly Cafe ...

... I pretty much love you.

You've got the Kirkland Museum right across the street at 13th and Pearl, but that display of historic cereal boxes you have adorning your wall is my kind of art. There, encased in protective hard plastic, is Mr. T's copycat Sugar Pops. John Elway's entry into the Wheaties Breakfast of Champions gallery. Breakfast with Barbie Fruit Loops Knockoffs. (Ken can't get enough of them!) And perhaps the wackiest sunrise experiment this side of Count Chocula: Nerds, which kept the artificial grapes and strawberries unnaturally apart, as if Ralston Foods were the misguided parents of Romeo and Juliet. (Just let them touch!) Jelly is a fine place to eat. I could live on your oatmeal with berries and brown sugar. And personally, I think you should pitch your combined jelly-filled, cinnamon sugar, crème anglaise and chocolate anglaise donut bites to Quaker Oats as their next Wall of Fame cereal-brand entry (if only there were more sugar!). And I do like the imperative attitude your web site takes in demanding that we "eat more jelly!" (http://www.eatmorejelly.com). But while nothing on your menu tastes like cardboard, what stole my heart was the cardboard on your walls.

[yourhumps]

Ah Patsy, that little devil from Lechuga's ...

... I pretty much love you.

You forget my order sometimes because the friend I'm always coming in with is so much hotter than I am, but hey, you're in good company there. You flirt with him and tease us mercilessly and sometimes grumble words I can't understand, but in the end,  you always hand over to me the greatest edible pleasure ever put to plate: The house-special super smothered canoli, a basic dish that redefines what is possible with mere sausage, dough, cheese and sauce. I always order the mild, but my heart belongs to Patsy, that red-hot little devil. You never know what is going to come out of this girl's mouth -- (last week she told another, very pregnant friend of mine, "Maybe it'll be 13 pounds!!!") -- but I always know what's going into mine: The best canoli in town. You'll find this 1950s Italian diner dive that time and Frank Sinatra forgot at 3609 Tejon St., 303-455-1502. 

[yourhumps]

Ah Patsy, that little devil from Lechuga's ...

... I pretty much love you.

You forget my order sometimes because the friend I'm always coming in with is so much hotter than I am, but hey, you're in good company there. You flirt with him and tease us mercilessly and sometimes grumble words I can't understand, but in the end,  you always hand over to me the greatest edible pleasure ever put to plate: The house-special super smothered canoli, a basic dish that redefines what is possible with mere sausage, dough, cheese and sauce. I always order the mild, but my heart belongs to Patsy, that red-hot little devil. You never know what is going to come out of this girl's mouth -- (last week she told another, very pregnant friend of mine, "Maybe it'll be 13 pounds!!!") -- but I always know what's going into mine: The best canoli in town. You'll find this 1950s Italian diner dive that time and Frank Sinatra forgot at 3609 Tejon St., 303-455-1502.