Max Gill and Grill

Dan here today.  Yesterday I didn’t feel like cooking and Beth didn’t feel like eating my cooking, so we decided to go out.  We had just purchased a Groupon for this place called The Local that sounded pretty good, and we both had our eyes on one of their burgers.  To get to the restaurant we had to go south, which is generally a bad idea at rush hour.  When we ran into traffic, I made a quick decision and bailed out onto a nearby side street which had no cars on it.  Unfortunately, I had forgotten two important things.  First, the city of Denver does not plow side streets when it snows, and second, there were two way stop signs at every intersection we crossed.  Thus, every time we encountered an intersection, of which there were many, I frantically tap danced on the accelerator, listened to the sound of the front wheels spinning, and prayed that no cars would come down the cross street until we had managed to clear it.  Needless to say, I was not in a great mood by the time we found a parking spot.  My mood soured further when I discovered that we had failed to do our research, and The Local was only open until 3 in the afternoon.

Fortunately, we were in one of those areas that invariably get described as “cute little downtowns”, and there were a few other restaurant options to choose from.  We walked up the street, glanced at a few menus, and settled on a place called Max Gill and Grill.  Using our deductive powers, we reasoned that the place probably served seafood, steaks, and burgers.  We decided to start with some oysters for an appetizer, since we live about 1000 miles from the nearest body of water and figured that they would be fresh.  Owing to the intimate (translation: dim) lighting, the photos are not going to win any awards.
The oysters themselves were pretty tasty, but the salsa was way too spicy.  I ate a couple of bites and felt like my mouth was on fire.

For dinner we both ordered the same thing: the Fat Max burger.  I’m not sure what made it fat, exactly, but it was pretty good.  The burger was topped with horseradish sauce, which is a combination I don’t see enough outside of the Asiago roast beef sandwich at Panera (which began a decade-long obsession with the chain when I had one my freshman year in college).
This might be a picture of the burger, or it might be a photo of Bigfoot.  It’s hard to say for sure.
It took some coaxing from Beth, but I decided to order a piece of vanilla bean cheesecake for dessert.  I let her have a bite or two because I was feeling generous, but I polished off the rest in about 30 seconds.  I do love cheesecake.  This pushed me slightly over the line to uncomfortably full, so I waddled back to the car and passed out on the bed when we got home.  All in all, it was a pretty successful meal.