El Rancherito has the huevos at breakfast and dinner

Mark Antonation
In A Federal Case, I'll be eating my way up Federal Boulevard -- south to north -- within Denver city limits. I'll be skipping the national chains and per-scoop Chinese joints, but otherwise I'll report from every vinyl booth, walk-up window and bar stool where food is served. Here's the report on this week's stop...

Federal Boulevard isn't a place for pretty restaurants or elegant platings. This street certainly has more than its fair share of exotic ingredients that elevate dishes -- whether a radially symetric cross-section of steamed lotus root or a purple-streaked octopus tendril reaching out from a ceviche tostada -- but presentation is almost always secondary to flavor, value and tradition. Even the real estate for a dining room with actual tables and booths is somewhat of a luxury; many restaurants on the strip are nothing more than a kitchen with a take-out window and maybe a picnic table or a few stools at a lunch counter. Particularly on this stretch just north of Alameda, industrial is far from chic; it's just the way things are. El Rancherito squats on a corner and, while sporting a newish coat of tan paint, otherwise blends in with the neighboring tattoo parlor and medical marijuana dispensary, all of which appear to have endured many lifetimes of use as single-family homes, rental units and small businesses.

See also: Pull up your big-boy chinos and dig into a Bubba Chinos burrito

Mark Antonation
On quiet nights, you can hear the ghost of old number seven.
Which is why I was so surprised at the sparkling and well-lit interior of El Rancherito, which from the outside seemed to be just another in a series of run-down, dingy or otherwise uninviting Mexican restaurants. At 7 p.m. on a weeknight, the dining room was empty, save for the ghost of John Elway inhabiting his bright orange jersey, signed and framed on the front wall. The menu indicated that the place was owned and operated by the Pulido family who, according to our waitress, had been keeping the place clean and busy for the past 25 years. The menu also offered a standard variety of Den Mex specialties, a few seafood options and a big breakfast lineup.

Mark Antonation
A combo plate with two kinds of sauce.
My combo plate of beef burrito, soft chile relleno (a crispy coating is also available) and cheese enchilada came two-thirds smothered in a smooth, pinkish green chile sauce. The remaining third, occupied by the enchilada, was coated in a red enchilada sauce. The green chile was the smoothest I've seen in town, with only a few random slivers of chile and tomato breaking the otherwise tranquil surface. It was thick, but not gluey or heavy and the flavor was mild, with only a hint of tang and heat. Still, it was a pleasant-enough accompaniment for the fresh flavors of the well-seasoned ground-beef burrito and the relleno, jacketed in an egg batter more like an omelette surrounding a tongue-sized slab of roasted and peeled chile.

Mark Antonation
Chilaquiles -- Spanish for "breakfast for dinner"
Amy's chilaquiles boasted more heat from a spicy red sauce studded with fresh slices of jalapeño. Sauce-soaked and fried strips of tortilla provided just enough texture to offset tender bits of egg and shredded chicken. The smooth refritos benefited from the presence of rich lard.

This was all uncomplicated food, obviously made fresh but without flare or creative license. It was the kind of solid, Denver-style Mexican that becomes a favorite over the years, not from standing out with originality, but from consistent delivery and a no-nonsense approach. But that night, I was also struck by a late-dawning realization: I was there at the wrong time.

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