Dear new (and veteran) dining spots in Denver,

It seems there might be some confusion about who you think you’re catering to. Was it intentional to set the price at $36 for a dish of chicken that barely passed as palatable? And that cocktail which vanished in three sips, was it genuinely meant to be $20?

Should I have felt thankful after spending $72 on that barely edible meal and minuscule cocktail, only to find myself stopping by Good Times to satisfy my hunger? Actually, it turned out to be closer to $80 once the kitchen fee, worker health insurance fee, and farmers’ fee were tacked on. (I understand the reasons but still, it stings!)

I recognize that the minimum wage has surged, that the cost of downtown real estate might be inflating more than my $18 mini personal-sized pizza, and that the prices for meat, eggs, and almost all other consumables (unlike that chicken) have climbed as sharply as my home insurance premiums.

I also recognize the importance of a satisfying meal and am willing to invest in such experiences. I once traveled to San Francisco just to try a specific loaf of bread, and I’ve shared stories here about a dinner that cost $450 per person, which completely shifted my perspective on dining. Over the years, I’ve chosen to explore new culinary hot spots rather than saving for retirement. (Oops!)

Many restaurants in Denver justify their prices well. However, you, the new restaurant in RiNo, do not yet possess the reputation of Frasca to demand $215 for your tasting menu. I doubt you’re introducing groundbreaking innovations on sweet potatoes similar to what I’ve seen at Alma Fonda Fina. Nor do you offer the best version of any dish in town, or even make the top ten, so it might be wise to reconsider your pricing of $7 per dumpling.

Unlike some places that manage to captivate my family for hours like Casa Bonita, your restaurant, branding itself as a casual neighborhood spot, disappoints with a $17 starter-sized salad and cramped seating arrangements. Charging $30 just to make a reservation and then informing customers they’ll lose their seat without a purse hook after 90 minutes is less than welcoming.

Spending a few hundred dollars on a meal at upscale restaurants is becoming the norm, even without including the cost of drinks. Indeed, that’s a significant amount for many, including myself. Such expenses might account for a person’s major celebratory meal of the year. If the charge reaches more than $16 for a cocktail and $35 for eggplant, those items truly need to be exceptional.

And the thing is, new LoHi restaurant, yours are not. You’re not doing anything better or more unique than the last disappointing restaurant that opened a block down that’s still clinging to QR code menus and wants me to bus my own table.

Yes, I know I’m a privileged food writer who often gets these sorts of meals for free. I and my colleagues and the outlets that give us a $40 dining budget to find the 12 best sushi restaurants in town need to do better at telling our readers what’s worth it and what isn’t. I’m also a huge Denver restaurant fan who, when I’m off the clock, can’t afford to keep paying $300 for ho-hum meals. It’s my job to hype the greats, but what to do with the not-so-greats?

I know that it’s challenging to make the restaurant economics work. But it’s not just you whose math just ain’t mathing. Our budgets are tight, too, and I can’t take my kids out for breakfast when your basic egg and cheese sandwich is $20. There’s certainly a place for fine dining done well, but increasingly, decidedly un-fine dining is being priced at that level.

Someday, newish restaurant, you might nail that chicken and build a staff where the hospitality alone is worth the price of admission. But come on, we both know you’re not there yet, so stop pretending you’re Alinea and put away the tweezers and mini squeeze bottles for fussy food prep and focus on best serving your current customers so they want to come back.

There’s got to be a way to make eating out work for everyone. Maybe instead of jacking up your intro pricing to match the James Beard Award winners across town, you prioritize serving a good meal, at a fair price? I really want to support you — I think we all do — but I also want health insurance, and I can’t seem to afford both.

Gastronomically yours,

Denver diners

Allyson Reedy is a food writer and restaurant critic in Broomfield. She’s the author of 50 Things to Bake Before You Die and 30 Breads to Bake Before You Die.

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