Wow, the content keeps rolling and the official Daze of Beer events haven’t even remotely come close to actually starting. But I feel like you guys are so worthy and deserving of content that that I have decided to write a brief post about a recent trip to a brewpub in… Salt Lake City, Utah!

Now, before I begin, let me tell you guys that I only ordered one beer and I only drank like half of it. I was sick with anxiety and heat and didn’t even want a beer, but I had just hauled twenty minutes across the city on foot in 100 degree weather where I faced aggressive homeless people and was slut-shamed by a woman for my “inappropriate attire” and I felt that it was imperative that I have at least one beer with my lunch. So don’t say I never did anything for you, dear reader.

I went to Squatter’s Brewpub on W Broadway 300 South. Those are, believe it or not, the same name for one street. Salt Lake City’s streets don’t usually have names, they just have numbers to denote how far they are from the Mormon Temple. So, 300 South is the name of the street, which actually runs east and west, but is 3 blocks south of the Temple. Does it make sense? On the surface, no, but in experience. Yes.

Now, let’s explore my experience at Squatter’s. I wandered in around 2pm on a Sunday and it was rather busy. There was a pretty significant wait for a table, so I opted to sit at the bar as I was alone. There also were not many options at the bar, but I squeezed myself in. Upon sitting down, I had not even been seated thirty seconds when the bartender had asked what I would like to order. As I was hot and felt like fainting, I had not even touched the menu that had just been placed in front of me, so I ordered a water to start. “Just a water?” Was the response I got with so much disdain that I almost wanted to walk out. Mind you, I had already had a rough weekend in the city, and everywhere I had been that day I had been faced with serious hipster attitude from the remarkably hipster citizens of this otherwise conservative state. While I recognize homeless is a major issue in SLC and these bartenders probably didn’t want to have to deal with the scene of someone who is just ordering water and then turns out to be homeless(I was also wandering around with a thirty pound backpack on my back which didn’t help the suspicion), I also was not even given time to get near my menu.

So a bartender brings me my water and then suddenly, no one looks at me for quite some time. Slowly, the bar clears out and I’m left sitting alone at the bar save for the bartender’s roommate who is just here hanging out until the bartender gets off so he can give the roommate a ride home. And although the roommate was definitely not a paying customer, he still apparently was more important than me, the girl who was trying to order lunch while simultaneously dealing with United to fix flight delays and also battling like the creeping symptoms of heat stroke.

Eventually, someone did pay mind to me. Not the bartender who was just leaning against the bar, gabbing about how their third roommate’s girlfriend had woken both of them up at 4 in the morning when she decided to make food and take a shower, but just some other guy who appeared from the backroom. I ordered their fish tacos for lunch and then got a Squatter’s Apricot Hefenweizen, which I now cannot find any trace of on their website. So either I fever dream hallucinated it, or they had it on tap last week and this week have struck the memory of this beer from public consciousness.

I should start by saying that I should not have ordered a hefenweizen because I do not like hefenweizen beer, but the apricot sounded delightful. Again, I was hot and dying. And when I took my first sip I thought to myself, “My God. It has finally happened. A hefenweizen that I like!” And then as the beer faded from my mouth, trickling down my throat, and only leaving a shadow of the liquid that once was, it was still there.The very reason why I hate hefenweizen beers. The sunscreen aftertaste. I’ve yet to find anyone who agrees with me on this point, but I feel like hefenweizen beers all taste like sunscreen. I believe I addressed it in a previous post. What made this doubly upsetting for me, however, was that I liked the initial flavor of the beer but what lingered was unpleasant. It felt like another disappointment in a long string of disappointments that weekend. The beer accurately represented my feelings for Salt Lake, though, on the surface it seems delightfully light but underneath it is just another disappointment in an already disappointing city.

In general, the vibe of Squatter’s was unwelcoming. The bartender was alienating. The beer was disappointing. And the heat was oppressive. Everyone talks about the booming craft beer industry in Salt Lake right now, but really, every moderate-to-large city has a booming craft beer industry they are all proud of now. Just look at Thrillist or any local cultural reporter. The beer was not worth the attitude. I think I’ll stick to my city for now and keep the drinking in the family.

Guys, I an delighted to announce, though, that our next post will be the first in the intended series of Daze of Beer summer. Look forward to it, because I am!

*Sorry for the lack of pictures. This lunch truly sucked.