25: People who refer to Denver omelets as “Western” omelets

April 13, 2010

God, I fucking hate people who refer to Denver omelets as “Western” omelets.

This appears to be most people east of the Mississippi River and, oh, every single fucking diner in New York City.

I guess I’m a homer. I’m from Denver, and despite being – in mine and plenty of other people’s opinions – a pretty cool city, Denver doesn’t really have a lot to call its own. Mile-High City? Cool, I guess, until you realize a place like Salt Lake City is over 4,000 feet above sea level. Then there’s the Denver boot, which is cool … unless you’ve ever had one put on your car. Then it sucks.

If you think of TV, what do you get? Well, there was Dynasty, which was cool, I think, at the time (I was a young boy when it was on – not exactly their target demographic). Mork & Mindy took place in nearby Boulder. That’s pretty much it.

What about movies? The first thing that comes to most people’s minds is Things to Do in Denver When You’re Dead, which is an OK flick but mainly posited that the only gangsters in Denver were bumbling idiots. Which was probably true, but shit … you didn’t need to tell everybody.

Music? A few bands here and there, but mostly jam bands from, again, nearby Boulder. And nobody loves jam bands.

No, Denver doesn’t lay claim to much – except a delicious breakfast omelet with diced ham, onions, and green bell peppers. In Role Models, Ken Jeong asks for a Denver omelet (dressed in medieval king garb, no less). In FlashForward, Penny from Lost and one of the Fiennes discuss moving to Denver and talk about, first and foremost, the sheer bad-assedness of the Denver omelet. Did anybody ask for a Western omelet? No. No. NO NO NO NO NO.

This is yet another example of East coasters lumping all things outside their little circle into one big ball of generic.


Fight with me, people. Ask for a Denver omelet. Make Denver omelets, and tell other people you want to make a Denver omelet for them. And if you’re at a place that has “Western” instead of “Denver” on its menu, say you’re going to leave. Tell them why. Make a fuss – stab somebody with a fork, knock the tray out of the busboy’s hands – until they change it. If they don’t, boycott them. Picket out front with a sign that says “Mile-High Shitty – It’s a DENVER Omelet, Dammit” and chanting “Hey Hey, Ho Ho, that omelet’s wrong name’s gotta go!”

We will never be free until this glorious, wonderful breakfast dish is called by its rightful and true name – not its awful, degrading slave moniker.