"The old carved-wood bar and scuffed floor planks, the mismatched lanterns, the walls hung with Aztec-inspired decorations and old masks: Were the rowdy environs of the Ballpark district not just beyond the door, you might think you’ve ambled into a cantina in some tucked-away little neighborhood of Mexico City. At times you can chalk the downright chill vibe up to the specialty of the house: A big, steaming bowl of pozole is not, after all, meant to be bolted down but rather savored slowly. At other times—like when the trompo is spinning outside, manned by a cook expertly slicing the al pastor meat right off the spit—the taco-driven hordes descend, but even then the mood is easygoing. Either way, La Diabla feels like Denver’s own little slice of CDMX." - Ruth Tobias
