I had a fine time in Salt Lake City. I stopped for lunch at The Bayou, a Cajun-food restaurant whose modus operandi is to serve beer, lots of very strong, very unique beer, to a city that’s strangled by complicated and draconian liquor-sales laws. In fact, as I enjoyed a 9% ABV local beer (I forget which one, sorry), I read a rant in the City Weekly against the incumbent (Mormon) governor’s stance on liquor licensing, watched an anti-drunk-driving ad on TV, and spoke with the bartender about serving beer in Utah. This was all at 1:00 in the afternoon, and after the restaurant scanned the barcode on my driver’s license.
The bartender said there’s an incredible amount of red tape around the issue, with something like six different types of liquor license a business can apply for. It’s not uncommon to see places advertising what kind of liquor license they have on billboards. The state wholesales all beer, wine and liquor through the Utah Department of Alcoholic Beverage Control. Supermarkets can only sell “Utah beer,” below 4% alcohol by volume. That’s also the only stuff that can be sold on tap—so most establishments sling more of the bottled stuff.
The bartender, who comes from the laissez-faire drinking state of Nevada and spent some time in Oregon, said things are getting better. Judging from what a hot political and “moral” issue this is, that will take some time.
After lunch, I went to walk off my beer with a cup of black coffee in Temple Square. I felt like such an outlaw.