Something seemed familiar the first time I visited Juarez Restaurant a few months ago.
It wasn’t the place, because I’d never been there before. It wasn’t the people, because I’d never met anyone in the room.
It was the sound.
You know the sound I mean. You hear it when you drop a handful of shrimp into a heated sauté pan. You hear it when you lay a steak on the grill. And you hear it when you drop your Tater Tots into your Fry Daddy. It’s the happiest sound there is.
The sizzle.
There are variations on the sizzle, of course. There’s the griddle sizzle, a sharp, staccato crackle most often heard in diner kitchens. There’s the skillet sizzle, a popping hiss-and-sputter like bacon cooking in cast iron. And there’s the deep-fry sizzle, a round, bodacious bubbling familiar to fish-and-chips fans.
To hungry mouths, the sizzle is a call to prayer. To cooking show producers, the sizzle is the money shot. And to cooks, it’s joyful music.
At Juarez, a small, unassuming Mexican restaurant on the corner of West 38th Avenue and Federal Boulevard, the sizzle – in all its forms – is omnipresent.
It flows from the kitchen pass-through into the dining room, hovers above the blue-
and-white checked tablecloths and rustles the sheets of colored paper tacked to the walls that say things like “Tenemos Pozole” and “Tenemos Menudo.”
A healthy stack of Spanish-
language freebie newspapers and real estate circulars sit in the corner. Fake plants hang from the ceiling. A road map of northern Mexico hangs near the entrance. A takeout counter with a ringing cash register anchors the back wall. And everywhere, the sizzle.
The first thing to hit your table is a basket of chips, warm if you’re lucky, and a dish of tomato-heavy salsa. You won’t likely be knocked asunder by the complexity of this salsa; in fact, it’s dull. But have faith – the salsa situation will improve.
It didn’t take me long, on my first visit to Juarez, to zero in on the tacos dorados, hard- shelled tacos the menu claims as a house specialty. My companion ordered the steak Milanesa, a traditional breaded- and-fried steak.
We waited on our order for quite a while, but we could track its progress by the sizzle: First the sear-sizzle of the beef on the griddle, then the crack- sizzle of the frying steak Milanesa, then the sputter-sizzle of the tortilla shells being dropped into oil to crisp.
The sounds, and smells, drenched us in a frenzied hunger that our complimentary basket of tortilla chips wouldn’t satisfy. So it was a happy moment indeed when our dishes arrived, accompanied by two far more interesting salsas, one green and one red.
Biting into the first of the four tacos on my plate effectively silenced any conversation we might have been having. The critically crispy shell, when it hit my teeth, gave way to a shower of beautiful fried shrapnel, revealing the succulent, spicy, romantic, rugged marinated beef inside. It took me to a high Mexican desert that I’ve never been to, a distant place where I wanted to eat my fill, fall in love and spend the night.
I ignored everything else my companion said until my plate was clear. Her mouth was moving, but I couldn’t make out a word she was saying, what with all that was going on in my own mouth. And I didn’t care.
The steak Milanesa was juicy and supple, far from the leathery version plated up in many local kitchens. We sliced it into strips, then wrapped them with beans in our warm corn tortillas.
On subsequent visits to Juarez, I had to force myself to order something other than those tacos dorados, with varying success.
One smart choice was the pozole, wholesome and silky, a savory pork backdrop studded with brawny pearls of hominy, all under a shimmer of red-chile spice. Another keeper were the chile rellenos, overstuffed pob-
lano peppers, fried and smothered with piquant green chile. The tamales ahogados, whose smother of chile didn’t compromise their redolent, corny fillings, were a solid hit too.
Unexpectedly, the kitchen puts forth an excellent burger, the Juarez-style hamburguesa. This patty of chopped sirloin, topped with cheese, ham, bacon, and a hot dog (yes, a hot dog) rivals the shaved-meat- topped monster found at Crown Burger Plus on South Downing Street.
Yes, it’s crazy. Crazy good.
Less exciting: Nopalitos, or chopped prickly pear tossed with vegetables. There’s a fine line, when it comes to nopalitos, between pleasantly gooey and off-puttingly gluey. Juarez’s version crossed the line.
Chilindrinas, an avowed “house specialty,” piled pickled pork skins, shredded cabbage and chunks of avocado on a plate-sized flour chicharron, or fried dough, as the menu calls it. I’d never had this dish before, and had a good time trying it, but was happy I had a chile relleno to fall back on once pickled- pork-skin fatigue set in.
Much of the menu is devoted to seafood dishes that you’ll recognize from dozens of other Denver restaurants: coctel de camaron (shrimp cocktail), enchiladas de jaiba (crab enchiladas), mojarra frita (fried fish). If you’ve already cycled through the pork and beef dishes, these are worth a taste, but as a whole, this section of the menu pales against the meats.
Here’s a great thing about Juarez: They cater. So next time you’ve got a quinceañera in the family, or for that matter, a bar mitzvah, order up a whole bunch of tamales and a few pounds of carnitas or green chile.
Here’s another great thing, especially for Highland neighborhood barflies: On weekends, the Juarez sizzle is in full effect until 3:30 a.m.
Juarez doesn’t have complicated food, a fancy room, or white-
gloved waiters. This place is about as casual as it gets. But what it does have, in spades, is the sizzle. And that alone is worth a visit.
Dining critic Tucker Shaw can be reached at 303-954-1958 or at dining@denverpost.com.
Juarez Restaurant
Mexican
2932 W. 38th Ave., 303-433-3902
**|Very Good
Atmosphere: Bare-bones storefront dining room drenched in fluorescent light.
Service: Friendly and competent staff, mostly Spanish-speaking. No frills.
Wine: Pero no. And no beer, either. Choose one of the aguasfrescas instead.
Prices: A la carte items: $1-$4.50. Plates: $4-$12.50.
Hours: 10 a.m.-10 p.m. Monday, Wednesday and Thursday; 10 a.m.- 3:30 a.m. Friday; 9 a.m.-3:30 a.m. Saturday; 9 a.m.-10 p.m. Sunday. Closed Tuesday.
Details: No reservations needed. Good for large groups and families. Street parking. Takeout available.
Four visits
Our star system:
****: Exceptional.
***: Great.
**: Very good.
*: Good.
No stars: Needs work.
