Utah, You Can Do Better Than This

Peach City Ice Cream
306 North Main St.
Brigham City, UT




Unfortunately, Utah isn’t exactly known for culinary creativity.

I mean, sure I’ve had some great Mexican at the Red Iguana in Salt Lake City. I enjoyed the heck out of the pizza at Red Rock Brewery. Devoured a decent burrito at Moab Brewery. Got a pretty awesome burger at Crown Burgers.

But when you think of Utah, does one unique delicacy or dish come to mind?

Hmmmm….

…thinking….

…um, no.

Nothing.

When Zagat did their celebrated 50 sandwiches in 50 states expose, every state was able to lay claim to some iconic must try specialty, whether it be Italian Beef in Illinois or the Hot Brown in Kentucky or the Lobster Roll in Maine.

So which sandwich did Zagat pick for Utah you might wonder?

Fry sauce.

Yeah. It’s a condiment.

Not a sandwich.

The best recommendation the foodie folks at Zagat could come up with is to try fry sauce at Artic Circle, a sprawling Western fast food chain that serves burgers and fish sandwiches.

That’s it? That's the best you can do, Utah?

Really?

Well, Suit757 can do better than that.

I was determined to find some local culinary specialty at a non-chain restaurant on my brief trip across northern Utah.

Unfortunately, my first choice of Maddox Drive-In in Perry was thwarted when I pulled up to an empty parking lot at 1pm on a Monday and found that most annoying of all neon signs fully illuminated: CLOSED.

So I texted a fellow Suit who grew up in the area.

He suggested Peach City Ice Cream up the road. However, he did add the caveat that he hadn’t been there since he was a kid.

Peach City Ice Cream is that kind of place. A local drive-in with booth, counter and car service that has been catering to generations of locals since 1937 -- and young families with rambunctious kids smearing ice cream cones all over their faces.

But Suit757 wasn’t there for dessert.

I was hungry.

I ordered the pastrami burger with that Utah-famous fry sauce, a side of onion rings and a “fresh lime”, which is a local soft drink made of…

…you guessed it…

…fresh squeezed limes.

Who knows, maybe my “fresh lime” would have turned out to be that quintessential Utah concoction that would have finally placed Utah on the Suits in Strange Places culinary map.

I kind of doubt it…but you never know.

And we never will.

My waitress never brought my “fresh lime.” Just Brigham City tap water.

Unfortunately, the burger was one of the most dried-out over-cooked slabs of beef I ever attempted to consume.

A terrible burger.

I suppose there are people out there who don’t like juicy, greasy burgers.

If you happen to be one of those people, I have two favors to ask you.

First of all, stop reading this blog.

Second, STOP ORDERING BURGERS. Because you are ruining it for the rest of us.

If a burger is not drippy and juicy, it is not worth eating.

Period.

The pastrami was okay. I mean, when isn’t pastrami okay?

But the only way I could even eat the dry hockey puck of a burger was to sacrifice my fry sauce designed to accompany my onion rings by dumping it on top of the pastrami burger.

Alright. So I know you are dying to know what this mysterious creative Utah exotica, fry sauce, is all about, right?

Are you ready?

Fry sauce is basically ketchup and mayonnaise mixed together.

Otherwise known in the other 49 states as Thousand Island dressing.

That’s it. This ketchup-mayonnaise condiment is the only unique Utah culinary creation anyone in the Beehive State has ever created.

Maybe these Mormons need to take up drinking to get the creative juices flowing a bit more.

All I can say is, Utah, you can do better than this.

Rating: Wouldn’t Wear Shirt if You Paid Me.

Witness the Power of Pastrami

Crown Burgers
2684 South 3200 West
Salt Lake City, UT





Sometimes you have to put in a little more effort to find unique, interesting things to eat.

Like when you are in Utah. The Beehive State is not exactly known for culinary creativity.

About the quirkiest thing you’ll find in Utah -- besides Jon Huntsman’s hair cut -- is “fry sauce.”

Now, don’t get too excited.

Fry sauce has nothing to do with novel uses for leftover fried chicken grease. That actually might be cool.

Nope. These crazy Mormons, who abstain from alcohol and caffeine, like to dip their French fries in a creamy pink sauce that suspiciously resembles Thousand Island Dressing.

Hey, work with me here.

I’m trying hard to find something interesting to write about in Utah. Not as easy as it sounds.

So in search of this crazy Mormon concoction they call fry sauce, I ventured out to Crown Burger, a local chain popular throughout SLC with burger aficionados.

The thing to get at Crown Burger is, well, the “Crown Burger,” a quarter pound patty buried under a two inch stack of thin-sliced pastrami.

Yes. You read that right. Pastrami on a burger. Brilliant!

Of course Crown Burger didn’t actually invent the “Crown Burger.” Like a lot of good ideas (and a whole lot more bad ones), the idea of piling pastrami on top of a burger probably originated in Southern California.

But who cares who gets credit?

This Crown Burger was great. Sure, the pastrami and the pile of lettuce, tomato, onion and cheese completely drowned out the taste of the burger. But if there is one thing that tastes better than flame broiled ground beef, it’s got to be pastrami.

The French fries were okay especially with a quick dip in that world famous fry sauce.

But you know what? The highest and best use of that fry sauce was as a condiment on my Crown Burger. Forget the fries. I poured that stuff all over my pile of pastrami.

And isn’t that what makes life worth living?

As we amble through this world searching for those things that bring meaning to each new day, sometimes we stumble into an experience that alters our very path of life.

That’s the power of pastrami.

Rating: Seriously Thought About Buying Shirt.

Stiffed in Moab

Eddie McStiff’s
57 S. Main St.
Moab, UT




What a letdown.

I had been anticipating Eddie McStiff’s like a teenage boy downloading Lindsay Lohan pictures with a dial-up modem.

I was excited, but a little nervous. What if the place is packed?

What if I can’t get in?

What if all those hipster mountain bikers and Jeepers who crowd into Moab every weekend give me the “velvet rope” treatment at the front door?

What then? I can’t come all the way to Moab and not treat my loyal Suits in Strange Places readers to a review of the world famous Eddie McStiff’s!

You have to understand, this normally isn’t a problem. Thanks to my Suit757 schedule, I typically pull into places like this around 10:30 on a Tuesday night hoping to beat last call.

But tonight was different.

It was Friday night at peak dinner hour during peak season. At 7pm I impatiently checked into what was literally the last available hotel room in town.

This town was booked solid! I better get to Eddie McStiff’s and start standing in line now!

Moab is the Mecca for play hard/party hard scruffy-faced outdoorsy types who come from all over the world to go off road, kick up some red dirt and leave fat tire marks on the slick rock of Eastern Utah.

And when they’re done ripping up the red rock landscape they all pile into Eddie McStiff’s to eat, drink and party. Kind of an oasis of fun in this buttoned up Mormon state.

Or so I heard.

Turns out, I had nothing to worry about.

The place was as quiet as the Mormon Tabernacle on Mardi Gras.

All that anticipation. For this???

One lonely guy on a bar stool. A couple smokers out on the patio. And Suit757.

That’s it.

Whoo-hoo! Friday night in Moab!

Unfortunately, the food didn’t do much to elevate the somber atmosphere.

My pork tacos were a bit skimpy for $13. A little green chili salsa and a side of forgettable rice and beans, I considered this entre to be more of an appetizer.

There’s no way this would satisfy any dirt-covered mountain biker building up an appetite zipping up and down the canyons of Moab.

I moved on from my tacos and proceeded to eat half of a pepperoni and sun dried tomato pizza.

Much better. Certainly nothing fancy or gourmet about it, but at least this pizza was generous with the cheese and toppings.

Part of Eddie McStiff’s party hearty reputation comes from the fact that it retains one of Utah’s few coveted “Club” liquor licenses.

Basically, that means you can actually get a real beer here.

As long as you get it in a bottle.

Huh?

My waitress tried to explain it to me. She said there are ten different types of liquor licenses in Utah.

Only a few places in the state have been able to bribe the right politicians to sell bottled beer over 4% alcohol.

And no place in Utah – not even the famous Utah microbreweries themselves – is allowed to serve draft beer over 3.2% alcohol. That’s a full 1.5% lower than those watered down mass produced American light beers.

You’ve got to love those “free market” Utah Republicans. Out to save us from the evils of Bud Light.

As you might imagine, this creates a bit of tension between the Mormons who make up 60% of the population – and 80% of the politicians – and the free-spirited fun-seekers who flock to the mountains, canyons, slick rocks and white water of Moab.

A tension that became obvious as soon as I perused Eddie McStiff’s list of Utah beers.

Of course I couldn’t resist the urge to order a Wasatch “Polygamy Porter”.

Never mind that Mormons supposedly gave up on polygamy over a century ago. The Utah brew masters who try to make a living by navigating the state’s corrupt labyrinth of alcohol laws and licenses seem to relish any opportunity for payback.

The label sports a painting of some sort of Romanesque orgy and the question: “Why have just one?”

Well, as it turns out that’s a pretty easy question to answer. Because it’s just not that good.

I needed something with a bit more kick than 4% ABV.

So I upgraded to a bottle of Squatters Hop Rising, a double IPA. Nine percent alcohol.

Now we’re talkin’!

Hoppy and strong, this Utah brew makes whatever Eddie McStiff’s owner had to do to get permission to sell it all worthwhile.

Too bad there was no one else in the place to share in my Suit757 frivolity.

By 10pm on this Friday night, my waitress had begun sweeping the floors and putting the chairs up on the tables.

Where the heck is everybody?

So much for wild parting in Moab. So much for worries about velvet ropes. So much for my anticipation of downing beers with that guy from the movie who cut his arm off with a pocket knife.

What a letdown.

Rating: Would Wear a Free Shirt.

Overcoming the Soft Bigotry of Low Expectations

Moab Brewery
686 S. Main St.
Moab, UT



“Not to be a smartass, but…”

I realize that’s not the best way to begin a new relationship.

But other than bringing me a few brews and some food, my relationship with my waiter at Moab Brewery was going to be relatively short lived anyway.

You have to understand, I was just incredulous at what he told me.

“By state law, all the draft beer we brew is 3.2 percent,” he explained.

That’s 3.2% alcohol content by volume.

I mean, even your watered down puke American light beers like Miller Lite are at least 4.5%. Budweiser is 5%.

A good microbrew can approach double digits. Heck, I’ve got a bottle of Dogfish Head 120 Minute IPA I’m saving at home that touches 20% ABV. Definitely a special occasion sipping beer.

So who the hell wants to waste their time with a beer restricted to just 3.2?

Other than a few forgettable trips to Tulsa, Oklahoma, I’ve never run into this “three-two” beer crisis.

So I sure wasn’t expecting to confront this issue here – at a microbrewery, for Pete’s sake!

“Not to be a smartass, but what is the freaking point? I mean, why bother building a microbrewery if you can’t brew real beer?”

I think I offended my waiter.

Something about the look on his face.

He explained that he had worked in Salt Lake City for Uinta Brewing and they competed against breweries all over the world – and won – with 3.2% beer.

He assured me the alcohol content would not affect the taste.

I was dubious, to say the least.

But what could I do? Arguing with my waiter wasn’t going to cause a frosty mug of Dogfish Head’s finest to suddenly appear in my hand.

So I tried Moab’s “Merrimack Steamer”, a pale ale with a crisp, hoppy, tasty flavor.

I mean, this brew isn’t going to make the Beer Hall of Fame, but I have to admit, I was impressed.

Call it “the soft bigotry of low expectations,” as George W. Bush would say.

My second brew, the “Raven Stout”, seemed like a good choice because stouts tend to be low in alcohol anyway. Maybe I wouldn’t miss it, I rationalized.

Unfortunately, this oatmeal stout tasted watered down, not as good as the Steamer.

The good news is that unlike the beer, the food served at Moab Brewery is free from meddling restrictions imposed by the Utah legislature.

My “Chili Verde Pork Burrito” was chock full of fork tender meat that had been slow simmered in green chili sauce. If those Mormon lawmakers had the same attitude toward dead pig that they do toward beer, this burrito would be in serious violation of at least a couple Utah statutes.

Topped with cheese and a delicious chili of beans, onions, olives, peppers and tomatoes, my burrito was an ideal companion to my microbrewed beer.

On the side came sturdy slabs of fresh baked corn bread studded with jalapeño peppers. After slathering on a generous hunk of honey sweet butter, I was in corn bread heaven.

So I know you are dying to know. My waiter was too.

Is Suit757 a convert to hand crafted low alcohol beer?

Well, I’ll tell you what I told my waiter.

I’m impressed.

Moab Brewery moved me from “Why bother?” to “Hey, this is actually pretty good.”

I mean, I’m not going home and pouring my $13 twelve ounce bottle of 120 Minute IPA down the drain or anything. But I’m impressed. Impressed that Moab Brewery can overcome such a 3.2 ABV handicap and rise to the occasion.

So impressed, I cashed in my little “$1 Off Souvenirs” wooden coin at the gift shop and bought myself a Moab Brewery shirt.

So is Suit757 going soft in his old age?

I don’t think so. But who knows? You know what they say about low expectations.

Rating: Bought the Shirt.

Bacon Flavored Beer? Oh, Yeah!

Red Rock Brewing Company
254 South 200 West
Salt Lake City, UT
Visited September 8, 2010

Beer selection: Wide variety of Utah law-abiding low alcohol brews.

Food: Lots of good stuff that can be baked in a brick oven.


It was Wednesday night. I was hungry and thirsty.

My Tuesday began at 5am when I donned my suit and headed for the airport. My Tuesday ended at 3am – 22 hours later -- when I checked into my hotel and finally got out of that suit.


During those 22 hours, I traipsed through four airports, took three flights, rented two cars, took one cab ride, conducted one important meeting, drove four hours, visited five states, and touched ground in all four time zones.

My Wednesday? I started the whole thing all over again at 6:30am.

By 7pm, I had been wearing my suit for 38 hours straight – except for the couple hours I got to sleep Tuesday night.

Just another typical day in the life of Suit757.

So by the time I got to Salt Lake City, I wanted two things. To get the heck out of that suit.

And I needed a beer.

Bad.

What better place to get a desperately needed brew than a place called “Red Rock Brewing Company”?

I’ve always found it ironic that a state where supposedly 70% of the population consists of tee totaling Mormons, brews so much good beer.

Maybe the remaining 30% in some way feel obligated to make up the difference.

I don’t know.

But I do know Red Rock Brewing Company carries on the tradition of excellent Utah beer making – even though none of it can exceed 4% alcohol, by state law.

Tasty low-alcohol beer? I know what you are thinking. Why bother?

But you know what? Red Rocks pulls it off.

I sat at the bar and ordered myself a much deserved Oatmeal Stout while I looked over the menu.

Like most breweries, Red Rock doesn’t try to get too creative with its stout. After all, a stout is a stout is a stout. But it was a good way to kick off the meal.

It also gave me the opportunity to plan my next move.

I asked my bartender about the “Bamberg Rauch Beer”.

He said it is a German style smoked lager.

A smoked lager?

Wow. This smoked beer thing is really starting to catch on, I thought.

It was just a few weeks ago at the last brew pub I patronized in Omaha that I enjoyed a smoked porter, the more common variation on smoked beer.

As I explain in that post, smoked beer is created by smoking the malt in the brewing process.

While a smoked porter is perfect for kicking back in front of a fire on a cold Alaskan winter night, a smoked lager is best suited for a blistering Texas Labor Day backyard bar-b-que.


In fact, the only other smoked lager I’ve ever had was Shiner Smokehaus, the seasonal summer brew by that famous little brewery down in Shiner, Texas (I’ve done the brewery tour twice, a story for another day).

I loved how my bartender described Red Rock’s smoky version. “People either love it or hate it. If you like bacon, you’ll love it.”

Like bacon?

Is there someone who doesn’t like bacon?

I’ve long held the belief that the best foods in the world can always be improved by either frying or adding a layer of bacon.

I’ve never figured out a way to fry beer. But beer that tastes like bacon?

Yeah, we just might be on to something there.

Sure enough, as I lifted the Rauch Bier to my lips, I smelled the smoke before I even tasted it.

Unlike the smoked porter in Omaha, these crazy Mormon brew masters in Utah don’t skimp on the smoke.

Yet, as a lager, it tastes lighter than the more typical dark smoked porters. I could definitely see downing a few of these in the back yard while plowing through a rack of hickory smoked ribs.


But, alas, I wasn’t in my back yard. And wasn’t about to trust a brewpub in Utah to the sacred art of rib smoking.

One look at the well worn, charred brick oven and I knew pizza was the thing to get here. I picked the special “pizza of the day” – prosciutto with sun dried tomatoes, yellow peppers and hazel nuts.

Hazel nuts on a pizza?

Yeah, well, while I can’t say they added much to the flavor, it was certainly different.

The pizza was excellent. The ham and tomatoes blended well and the red brick toasted crust was a perfect companion to the star of the meal, my smoked German lager.

I had a perfect view from my perch at the bar to observe the surprisingly high percentage of the menu that came out of that brick oven. Burgers, sandwiches, deserts, you name it.

While I would have liked to have stayed and sampled a few more beers, I really needed to get some sleep. My wake-up call for Thursday morning was set for 4am.

My brief suit-free reprieve was over.

Yeah, another glamorous day of 6am flights, three planes, two rental cars, a cab ride, three more time zones and 17 hours of wearing that damn suit was awaiting me beginning in another six hours.

Which reminds me, if I ever do get home, I really need to pay my dry cleaner a visit.

Rating: Bought the Shirt!