Won over by Jezebel’s southern charm
Although I grew up in the countryside, surrounded by horses and pickup trucks, the only thing southern about me is that I often go by my two first names: Amy Lynn. For this Yankee – native Ny’er to be exact – the south is reserved for a host of stereotypes and grandma’s very pink Florida retirement home. We’re raised in the northeast to believe venturing below the Mason-Dixon Line requires improper grammar, summer teeth (some are here, some are there) and some scary weapon in the front pouch of ratty overalls.
Before you go throwing fried green tomatoes at me, I’ve had a change of heart recently. Some of my spicy friends hail from below the belt, and a trip to Jezebel’s – the new eats and drinks spot in The Highland hood – turned up the heat for me. I guess you can say the lake effect snow slush inside me melted upon contact with some very strong moonshine.
Jezebel’s is the latest from Wanda James and Scott Durrah, a power couple that brought us Caribbean delights at 8 Rivers. I was fortunate to pop by on opening night with fellow Out Front-er Sara Decker. We arrived the day after Christmas to a packed bar, sounds of whisky being poured, and the single most welcoming scene in Denver that night. Within 10 minutes, we were sipping on Southern Moscow Mules (a delightful twist on the classic by adding sweet tea vodka) with surprisingly down-to-earth movers and shakers in Denver politics, media and business. The energy was like a big old family reunion, and the staff was showing us some southern hospitality, complete with great jokes and genuine attentiveness. The only thing missing was a few old dogs and a blazing bonfire.
Formally home to the Squeaky Bean, the bar is simple with minimal frills, and honors tradition by playing up its period charm. The deep dark wooden bar is contrasted by the large floor-to-ceiling windows that let in just enough sultry streetlight. It’s welcoming and devoid of overstuffed sitting areas that just get in the way of mingling (ah em, flirting).
Buffet style, the new owners and cooks showcased small bites like fried chicken (in buffalo wing form), buttery mashed potatoes and smooth deviled eggs. Each bite was decadent, but small enough not to overwhelm the waistline and make you feel sluggish. I opted for a fried green tomato topped with mozzarella, basil and a flick of pimento. My new friends didn’t tease at my ignorance about what I was eating – instead, they shared stories about their favorite southern dishes and gave rave reviews for Jezebel’s offering. Finally, I tasted my first shrimp and grits out of a bite-sized brandy glass. I’m no connoisseur for grits, but whatever it was I tasted, I couldn’t find ONE thing I’d change about this rich, cheesy, salty seafood treat. Sold.
Towards the end of the night, the owners gave a toast to all that made it happen. Durrah cited the name Jezebel’s and encouraged everyone to “google it and decide what it means to you!” Seriously, try it, it’s fun. The room chuckled and like magic, a small shot glass of housemade raspberry moonshine showed up in front of me, courtesy of the clever Sara Decker. Although it’s painfully strong and a bazillion proof, it goes down surprisingly smooth. If you’re a little fancier, feel free to order one of the martini’s mixed with any number of the flavored moonshines behind the bar. Word to the wise: Sip the moonshine, meet fantastic people at Jezebel’s for a few laughs, and make sure your cabby is on speed dial for the end of a great night.
