Lamb nettle gnudi and crispy sweetbreads
THE WEST
Review: Blackbelly
Welcome to Boulder’s Most Serious Restaurant
$$$$
★★★★★
Written by Maria Rodriguez | May 3, 2025
Most restaurants don’t want you thinking too hard about where your meat came from. At Blackbelly, that’s sort of the whole point. You walk in and the first thing you see—past the open kitchen, past the glow of the bar—is a glassed-in butcher’s room, where someone in a white coat is breaking down a lamb like it’s a sacred ritual. That someone is likely Kelly Kawachi, head butcher and proud owner of the sharpest knives in Boulder. The message is clear: This is not your average farm-to-table restaurant. This is farm-to-bone.
Ora king Salmon, fennel barigoule, blood orange
Blackbelly is the brainchild of Hosea Rosenberg, who, yes, won Top Chef back in the days when cable mattered. But reality TV stardom only gets you so far. What’s kept this place humming since 2014 is a fanatical devotion to whole-animal butchery and a menu that somehow balances nose-to-tail seriousness with real-deal flavor. It’s not all pork jowl and beef heart, though those are there if you want them. I’ve had meals here that were borderline primal and others that were borderline elegant. Sometimes both at once.
The space is a low-key flex—brick exterior, glowing sheep over the bar, a dining room that feels like someone actually thought about what it’s like to sit and eat for two hours. No overbuilt light fixtures or fake reclaimed wood. Just polished concrete, butcher hooks, and the faint aroma of roasted marrow hanging in the air.
Dry-aged New York strip with an apple beet gel
On a recent visit, the agnolotti came stuffed with caramelized onion and floated in a mushroom brodo that could pass for forest perfume. The charcuterie board—made entirely in-house—is the sort of thing that makes you wonder why anyone ever settled for supermarket salami. And then there’s the rotisserie chicken. It sounds like a safe choice, something your accountant uncle might order. But here, it’s brined, herbed, and crisped to a level that would make a French grandmother weep. You’ll pick it clean like it wronged you.
Lunch is a different beast altogether—sandwiches and burgers that feel almost illicit. The bologna sandwich, in particular, should be illegal. Thick-cut, fried, and layered with cheddar, it’s the kind of thing that ruins you for the packaged version forever. Axios once called it the best in Colorado, and for once, the internet was right.
Rohan duck, sunchoke purée, huckleberry jus
This year, Rosenberg was a James Beard semifinalist for Best Chef in the Mountain Region, and the restaurant picked up a Michelin Green Star for its sustainability efforts. Neither award feels performative. You get the sense that Blackbelly earned them by doing exactly what it’s always done—caring about the details that most places don’t bother with. There’s no fake virtue signaling here. They know the name of the pig you’re eating. They probably named it.
Service is sharp without being robotic. You’ll get wine pairings from people who can pronounce Friuli and explain what makes the lamb neck tender, all without sounding like they’re auditioning for a sommelier documentary. They care, and it shows.
Carrot cake, spiced pecans, caramel, cream cheese
If you’re looking for some tweezered foam and a tableside smoke show, this isn’t your place. But if you want to know exactly what you’re eating, and why it tastes this good, Blackbelly is where you go. It’s not flashy, but it’s confident. The kind of restaurant that could only exist in a city like Boulder—obsessed with quality, allergic to pretense, and just weird enough to put a butcher shop at the heart of its best dining experience.
With a day job that requires constant travel, Maria Rodriguez is likely a frequenter of a restaurant near you, wherever you are. A seasoned restaurant reviewer, Maria has a knack for finding the best pastry in a new city, a talent that makes her popular among her coworkers.
