Table 6 closed, and a lot of people in this city quietly grieved it. That corner on 6th Avenue was a Denver institution, the kind of place where you learned what a good wine list was supposed to feel like. The space sat there empty. And everybody who loved it kept asking the same question. Who was good enough to take it over without wrecking what it meant?
!["FRAGMENTS AND MAYFIELD [RESTAURANT NORTH TERENURE ROAD DUBLIN 6]-126304" by infomatique is licensed under CC BY-SA 2.0.](https://qhqlttwmdrouzzeofsup.supabase.co/storage/v1/object/public/rc-images/photos/1791397209398-1-holm-bistro-table-6-denver.jpg)
Here is the answer. Duncan and Allison Holmes.
If those names do not land yet, let me catch you up. This is the husband-and-wife duo behind Major Tom and behind Beckon, which is one of only a handful of Michelin-starred spots in the entire state. They run Paired Hospitality Group. And in October 2026, they are opening a new American bistro called Holm right in that old Table 6 space.
Fifty seats. À la carte dinner service. That is the whole pitch, and it is a bigger deal than it sounds.
!["FRAGMENTS AND MAYFIELD [RESTAURANT NORTH TERENURE ROAD DUBLIN 6]-126303" by infomatique is licensed under CC BY-SA 2.0.](https://qhqlttwmdrouzzeofsup.supabase.co/storage/v1/object/public/rc-images/photos/1791397210259-2-holm-bistro-table-6-denver.jpg)
Here is the part people miss about Beckon. It is a tasting-menu restaurant. Michelin level. Which means it is a special-occasion, save-up-for-it, make-the-reservation-three-weeks-out kind of night. Incredible food, but not a Tuesday.
Holm is the opposite door into the same kitchen brain. Fifty seats, order what you want off a menu, pay for the plates you actually feel like eating. Most people do not realize how rare that is, a team cooking at this level handing you a lower-barrier way in. You are getting the Holmes's cooking without the tasting-menu commitment. That is the whole reason this one got named to a national list of the 9 Most Anticipated U.S. Restaurant Openings of Fall 2026, and that list is not handing those spots out to just anybody.
So let me talk about the menu, because this is where I started paying real attention.
The opening dishes read like something out of a French-leaning fever dream, in the best way. Great Lakes perch with gribiche. Pike quenelle ravioli with Nantua sauce, which is that rich crayfish-butter situation that most kitchens would not even attempt. And then, grounding the whole thing, cornbread served with pimento cheese and chicken liver parfait. That cornbread plate is the thesis of the place if you ask me. Comfort food, but built by people who know exactly what they are doing.
They have got more coming too. Shaved fennel in anchovy vinaigrette with aged Parmesan and lemon, the kind of bright cold plate you start a meal with. Grilled Alamosa bass with Niçoise tapenade and local Anasazi beans, which is a very Colorado move, pulling fish and beans that actually mean something out here. And a braised pork ragù over housemade pappardelle, because somebody on that team knows you cannot open a bistro without a pasta people drive across town for.
Here is the detail that honestly got me. A lot of the produce is coming from their own Beckon Farm out in Lakewood. They grow it, then they cook it. That loop, farm to the plate on 6th Avenue, is the part that separates this from a restaurant just buying nice ingredients. (Side note, farm-to-table gets said so much it stopped meaning anything. These people actually own the farm. That is different.)
They did not just drop their food into the old shell and call it done. They brought in Denver-born Leap Interior Design to build out the dining room, and the whole direction is warm and approachable. Not precious. Not the kind of room that makes you sit up straight and whisper. The goal is a place you can actually relax in, which, for a fifty-seat bistro, is exactly the right call.
Let me put my real estate hat on for one second, because this matters beyond the food.
When a Michelin-starred team takes over a beloved shuttered space, that is a signal. A good restaurant does not just sell dinner. It anchors a block. It gives the people nearby a reason to walk, to linger, to tell a friend to come meet them. The homes and the small businesses around a corner like this one feel it. A dead storefront drags a street down. A packed fifty-seat bistro with a line out front does the opposite. Watch what happens to the foot traffic on that stretch once Holm is actually serving.
And the fact that the Holmes team chose to resurrect an existing Denver landmark instead of chasing some new build somewhere shinier tells you something about how they see this city. They are not outsiders dropping in. They are doubling down on a corner that already had a soul.
Westword flagged this one in its openings coverage back on August 28, 2026, which is usually the first sign something real is coming. Now we have got a format, a menu, a designer, and a month.
So here is where I land. If you have been wanting to taste what Duncan and Allison Holmes do but could never quite talk yourself into the full Beckon experience, this is your opening. Order the cornbread. Order the pappardelle. Get the perch if you are feeling brave.
October 2026. The old Table 6. Holm. Mark it.