By Bill St. John Special to The Denver Post When I was dating the woman I was to marry, I’d travel frequently from Denver to Cleveland, her hometown. In those days and for this Rocky Mountain fella, Cleveland’s food was figuratively much further than 1,300 miles away. There I had my first lax, latke, half-done pickle, knish, bialy and sesame seeded bagel, courtesy of Penny’s family’s many Jewish friends.