One of the best things about not being a Denver native is ignorance. One comes here from, say, the east coast with certain expectations: everyone wears cowboy hats, everyone has a dog, jogging is mandatory, etc. Mostly, these expectations are justified. But if you come to Denver expecting to find a schlumpy, unhip cattle town, you’re in for a surprise.

I spent the weekend exploring some of Denver’s lesser-known neighborhoods – at least they were lesser-known to me. While most people, when looking for a new home, value such things as square footage, granite counters, a front door not crisscrossed with police tape, I look for signs of local life. Restaurants. Galleries. Bars within crawling distance of my house.

To that end I strolled into South Pearl Street looking for both a house and a decent cocktail. Luckily, I found both. While South Pearl Street may be old hat to you long-time Denverites, it was new to me. I found the place refreshing, like a little Main Street in a small town if that small town could survive on sushi and mojitos. By the end of a single afternoon in the neighborhood, I knew I had found a new place to hang my cowboy hat.