Standing atop Spillway, an intermediate groomer at Loveland Ski Area, I visualized my descent on the crowded ribbon of man-made hard pack tending towards icy. Sticking to a line was critical, and this task was daunting, as I had just strapped on my first new pair of alpine skis in 14 years. These were Folsom Custom Blue Note Carves, a semi-custom, all-mountain ski hand built in Boulder and optimized for quick turning. I inhaled, and pivoted down the fall line.

For some odd reason, when I first heard of Boulder’s new eatery, Tossa Pizza, my mind swiftly visualized Luigi Risotto reciting this restaurant’s name in a comical Italian accent.

"Do you use Fox’s U-Bet syrup in your egg creams?” I asked, in the manner of a character in a spy movie probing the bona fides of a new but unproven contact.

A couple months back, I was chatting on the phone with my sister when I mentioned my fear of becoming a hipster. “Becoming?!” was her incredulous reply. Granted, I hang out with people that drink Pabst Blue Ribbon and wear kilts, ironically, and I even own a few fedoras and have volunteered at the roller derby, but moi, a hipster?

In the late 1990s, I worked on west Walnut Street, a stone’s throw from the Pearl Street Mall. For lunch, I’d patronize now-defunct venues like Juanita’s and the New York Deli, and I’d often pick up morning coffee at the old Bookends Café. Like many, I felt a touch of melancholy when I heard that Bookends was closing, but I’ve also learned to accept that businesses invariably come and go on Pearl.

One of my more ill-advised college misadventures involved a midnight competition with a classmate to see who could consume the most Tabasco sauce straight. While I prevailed, I learned a valuable lesson (actually one of several) in that heat for heat’s sake isn’t a good thing. The best spicy dishes are ones that don’t up your fiery pain so much that you can’t enjoy the rest of your meal, and are tempered by other intriguing flavors lurking beneath the surface.

The first impression of downtown Boulder’s Saxy’s Cafe is that of your typical college town coffee shop with a ramshackle, slightly lived-in feel. But a closer look reveals more luxurious trappings epitomized by comfortable sofas and low coffee tables that give the spot a cozy living room ambience. Low-key, if not folksy, music plays on the stereo, deepening the mellow coffeehouse vibe.

For some foodies, exploring new restaurants is a sporting activity, and one of the top trophies is stumbling across a hidden gem before anyone else does. If the place is affordable, so much the better, and unique menu items score additional brownie points, although some might prefer actual brownies. And while you won’t find brownies at Lafayette’s (503) Café, you’ll find all the other elements of a winning and reasonably priced dining discovery in the space formerly occupied by Chip’s Place.

Whenever I visit a place calling itself a tavern, I half expect it to be populated by a clientele consisting of Revolutionary War colonists plotting their next move against the monarchy. More realistically though, I anticipate that a self-proclaimed tavern is an unfussy spot where decent brews flow freely and bar food staples are abundant and reasonably priced.

Spun off from its namesake Nederland predecessor, Boulder’s recently opened Backcountry Pizza and Taphouse ably occupies the gap between chain restaurants and artisan pizzerias. It retains much of the unpretentious charm of its mountain parent, which is an endearingly comfortable spot to visit after hitting the slopes at Eldora. To its credit, Backcountry also exudes enough culinary variety to pique the interest of the foodie set — and offering a selection of more than 50 beers probably doesn’t hurt either.