The day before I turned forty. What better way to celebrate than to spend lunch with drunken friends at a sports bar owned by a man who makes racist videos on Facebook? There has been a lot of discussion over the last few days about Steve Sandberg, owner of the Legend of Aurora Sports Grill and representative of the Aurora City Council. In his promotional videos he uses stereotypical accents. He wears culture as his costume. And for a guy who has had several incidents involving inappropriate comments of a sexual nature, he seems to be pushing comments about his dick and balls whenever he can.
Michael Scott office was a real person and had access to an iPhone in 2022. This is roughly the Sandburg vibe.
The video that caught my attention was particularly disgusting, reading various online reviews in vaguely Middle Eastern voices. He handpicks a few reviews that specifically mention him and his beard, repeating, “always humble, always learning.”
When he saw him trying to bring soup to the wrong table during a pre-birthday outing, Sandberg realized he would get much better service by getting his employees out of the way. It surprised me that he was the kind of person who could do it.
“The eagle has landed,” I told my friend Brett, noticing Sandberg’s incompetence as he walked around the dining room in jeans and tucked-in green flannels. Of course, this is the same guy who called into his bar 20 minutes before him, whispering to the employee he asked to speak, “I don’t have time for Steve’s shit.” I urged you to
We were the youngest at Legends by 30, not counting the man in orange at the end of the bar in Broncos and the construction workers who came right behind us. There were two tables of 70’s playing mahjong. The walls are kitschy, littered with flat-screen TVs and posters with obscure legend logos that Canva can’t improve on.
We started with an order of bone-in wings tossed in a Jamaican jerk dry rub that would piss anyone off the island. Scotch his bonnet, no visible hint of heat, and the gritty, insipid rub that piles up at the bottom of the basket clearly caters to this bar’s clientele, who fondly remembers LBJ’s management. I’m here.
I think it’s simply old-fashioned, like fryer grease that leaves wings with an off-taste that my buddy Zach swears is fishy. It has a thick ranch that reminds me of an 80’s crude plate gone unused.
The special of the day is a large pizza, so the boys grab the bartender’s recommendation for snake bites: bacon bits, cream cheese, roasted jalapenos, cheese, and ranch drizzle on top. As far as Colorado pizza goes, I’ve had worse offenders, but there’s an element that fundamentally goes wrong.
Topping more cheese on a cream cheese base leaves the whole pie terribly dry. Jalapenos are not roasted. This really works and, along with the sparse bits of bacon, gives the pizza the kick and texture it needs. Based on the crust cook, I’d say it’s a frozen Sysco special. and.
If the name of the restaurant is on the menu, it must be a specialty dish. Here, Legend Her Burger feels like a vulgar joke. It may not be fair, but the meat can range from well-done to medium-rare depending on which half you’re chewing on. Slices of hastily-applied cheddar are seared atop my open burger, exposing alternating charred and undercooked bacon underneath. As gray and bleak as February in 2009, it has no seasoning.
A mound of greasy, limp French fries lightly dusted with salt of spices, worth opting for the crunchy ones, but mostly beyond redemption. I mean there exists a microwaved hamburger burrito somewhere.
Was it a bad day for your kitchen? Totally possible. Is the recent negative press demoralizing? Of course. However, I believe that serving this awful food is a small act of defiance from the kitchen staff who, despite their boss’s insistence, have been repeatedly asked to be part of a video that is not funny at all. believe.
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