My parents love this place.

Now, normally, that's not necessarily a ringing endorsement for a night out on the town. I mean, my parents are old. No getting around it. They're even old for their age.

It's not all their fault. World events, wartime military service, economics and a drunken driver have all taken their toll, not to mention their two reckless children. Family dinner conversations invariably turn toward things like my mother's gluten allergies or my father's gout. I've been writing down the dialogue for a play I'm gonna spec to Neil Simon called The Old Couple. Just a couple of weeks ago, we were discussing the relative merits of a warm-weather winter.

"Phoenix is the new Miami, you know," Pops said.

Indeed.

Anyhow, they love Dumitri's for breakfast. Mostly, it's because a server comes around with a tray of mini-muffins for people who are waiting to be seated (or have been seated and are waiting for their order). My parents love the mini-muffins.

But in back of Dumitri's is a sports lounge, which happens to be where we met Mrs. Buzz-in-law and her longtime "friend" Chicago Bob for a pre-dinner cocktail last weekend.

Like any good sports bar, Dumitri's is plastered with paraphernalia from Denver's (and a few things from other cities') teams. (If you ever get a chance, wander up front into the restaurant and check out the trophy case. Some gems in there.) There are enough TVs to ensure a view from any sightline, and an L-shaped bar sits in the middle of the room.

The demographic here befit my parents well, which is to say Mrs. Buzz and I were the youngest in the room. By a few decades. Not that you'd realize from the noise level. It was an early Friday evening, and the crowd was boisterous.

And it turns out that the muffins aren't the only thing they're giving away. The bartender came around with plates of shrimp cocktail for every table. And these weren't those little feeder jobs that Popeye's fries up and passes off as "popcorn." They were big and fresh and very tasty. Quite a nice little happy-hour bonus.

Our tab ran $21 before tip, which I'm pretty sure included a scotch and soda and seven beers. An even nicer happy-hour bonus.

From there it was on to J'Shabu (2680 S. Havana St., 303-750-5797) and one of the most fun dining experiences I've had since that prime rib at the Diamond Cabaret (albeit for an entirely different reason).

The surprisingly hip Asian eatery features Japanese tabletop cooking. Patrons are seated along a giant square bar with a pot full of piping-hot broth flavored with a few sauces in front of them. Our server, Mike, explained it well: You pick out your meal (a few beef selections, chicken, fish or vegetarian) and then cook it yourself in the pot. It's a lot like fondue but without all that Parisian snobbery. Oh, and they serve booze, which certainly adds to the revelry.

Drunken noodles, indeed.

Dumitri's Sports Lounge

1911 S. Havana St. 303-752-0553

• Happy hour: 2:30 to 7 p.m. daily, 50 centsoff well, domestic draughts and bottles, 75 cents off wine

• Free apps after 3:30 p.m. weekdays

• Check out J'Shabu down the road.