This cozy Denver restaurant—with its menu of classic dishes, a folk playlist, and garage doors that open to a garden-lined patio—feels familiar, like being at home, except someone else is doing the cooking. Chef Daniel Mangin re-engineers staple dishes with a quiet confidence that converts skeptics and earns regulars.
As soon as you sit down, order a cocktail to help you better navigate the menu. American Elm is known for its old fashioneds, but be aware that it’s also a sleeper tiki bar. You can’t go wrong with one of its signature drinks, like the Juicy J, but try the mai tai or the pandan chi chi—a drink so eye-catching it stops every table when it walks by.
First up, we suggest enjoying your drinks over oysters—tiny West Coast beauties brightened with a blueberry mignonette that amplifies the melon-like sweetness of bivalves. It’s not flashy; it’s just absurdly good. Then come the deviled eggs with luxuriously silky smoked yolks, topped with crispy pork belly for texture and pickled mustard seed for bite. Next, the country fried blue oyster mushrooms from Jacob’s Mushroom (a local gourmet mushroom farm) are torn by hand into hefty chunks and fried to absolute golden, flaky perfection. Drag them through the smoked corn mornay (a tangy cheese gravy) and preserved lemon, and you’ll be coming back just for this dish.
Now, the mains may look classic, but they hit with a depth of flavor that’s anything but ordinary. Take the squash cavatelli: umami-rich bonito flakes, whole anchovies, salty feta, parmesan, pecorino, and micro basil come together in a smoky, briny, herbaceous sauce that’s hard to pin down and impossible to stop eating. The roasted half chicken is a standout— far from the dry, uninspired version we often acquaint them with. This one is all dark meat (yes, please), set on smoky cheddar polenta with braised collard greens and carrots. It’s juicy, salty, and deeply comforting. Chicken as it should be. Same goes for the steak frites: crispy, thin fries, rich bone marrow butter, and well-seasoned arugula complement a delicate and balanced center cut. You know this plate—you just don’t know it like this. Opt for Worcestershire instead of ketchup for a garlicky kick.
For those too full for the popular and indulgent buttermilk pie, the house amaro over ice—silky, a little licorice-like—makes a worthy backup and the perfect nightcap.
Everything here feels like home, just better: familiar flavors, elevated without pretense. No gimmicks—just sharp technique, smart sourcing, and classics finally getting the respect they deserve. A place worth returning to, again and again.
