When I was a youngster I actually thought My Brother’s Bar was owned by my uncle, Ed. My mom would say, “let’s go to My Brother’s Bar,” excitement would ensue, inevitably followed by me thinking my uncle must have the night off...again. Kids are so stupid.

It’s easy to see why my younger-self loved this place — in many ways it’s like a fast food joint. The burgers are a little greasy, served on sesame seed buns, and wrapped in paper. The fries and onion rings sit in plastic trays and all condiments come in a plastic caddy they bring to your table, complete with pickles, onions, etc.

As an adult man-boy, I find other reasons to appreciate this place. For one, it’s got the character of a Wild West saloon mixed with the vibe of a cool urban hangout.

Proclaimed Denver’s oldest bar, My Brother’s Bar is a mix of old and new. Old: They crank Beethoven and Bach for plenty of hunched-over grandpas at the bar. New: They pack the place with hip Riverfront area residents who are paying a ton of money to live close to REI.

Whether you’re old, new, or middle school you’ll probably find something to like at My Brother’s Bar. At the very least you’re destined to have a good burger in a place that has about as much history as you can find in Denver.

And if you do find yourself sitting at the bar someday, say hi to Ed. Assuming that dude ever shows up for work.