I went to Iron Mountain Winery Saturday night to hear Aural Elixir. It was a much smaller and less pricey place than I expected, but still higher end than a middle class guy like me is used to. I was hoping for something more, though–a larger crowd, for one. Both of the bartenders were beautiful young ladies, and, when I arrived, there were another two dozen beautiful young ladies and only two men seated at the tables. If character showed through the skin, then I was definitely in a good place. If I hadn’t thought I might get arrested or at least asked to leave, I would have spent more time appreciating the scenery. One long table of twelve such beauties all turned in unison to look at me when I spent a few seconds too long looking at a window display past their table and across the courtyard outside. For a moment, I entertained the fantasy they might invite me to join them.
Well, I did say it was a fantasy, didn’t I? I learned later that they were a bachelorette party. They cleaned out the cash register of singles before they left for the hotel to meet the stripper. If had any doubts about skin being opaque to character, they left me then.
Speaking of scenery, it was a little difficult reconciling the upscale intent of the establishment with the shopping mall location. I recommend sitting at the bar, or at least facing away from the windows. The barmaids made for much better scenery than the storefronts outside. One was short and stout, the other long and lean. Both were well worth my attention.
Jesse of Aural Elixir has a full, pleasant voice. Unfortunately, and unlike the menu, the acoustics were completely in keeping with the neighborhood. The two plate-glass walls made everything sound like it was in a bathroom. It was nearly impossible to understand the lyrics, and the notes all blurred and squashed into one another. The sound quality improved when the bachelorette party left, but some heavy drapes over those windows would have helped even more.
From the menu I started out with a glass of gewürztraminer, the pronunciation of which I will still not attempt without medical assistance present. Very fruity. Good for people like me who aren’t overly fond of wine.
Iron Mountain isn’t a restaurant, so the alimentary portion of the menu was very short: several different kinds of cheeses and two pizzas. After I finished the wine, I ordered a margherita pizza, which was excellent. The only other choice sounded even better, but included a pork topping.
The water wasn’t bad either. (What an odd thing to write!) A few slices of cucumber were transformational. Maybe they dress the water up so finely everywhere, but you’ll have to excuse my ignorance. My muscles recherché are somewhat atrophied after too many years of Applebee’s.
When the pizza arrived I ordered a glass of monastrell, which was even better than the gewürztraminer. Spicy and perhaps not the best choice to complement the delicate flavor of the gourmet pizza, but still excellent in my non-cognoscenti opinion. I’m tempted to go back for an entire bottle.
I don’t know whether it was the wine or the slowly vanishing crowd, but the sound of the music continued to improve through the night. I was hoping the wine might raise the temperature outside a bit as well, but no such luck. It was about six degrees when I arrived and three when I left. I think Broomfield’s sobering tax rate offset any positive affects of the alcohol.
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