The other day, while exploring Saratoga Springs, Utah, a small city between Provo and Salt Lake, I wandered into an outpost of Deseret Book, a chain of religious-goods stores run by the Church of Jesus Christ of Latterday Saints. Among rows of scriptural texts and other missionary essentials (neckties, journals, L.E.D. bike lights) was a display of graphic T-shirts, including one printed with a list of foods that Utah is known for: "Fry Sauce & Casseroles & Funeral Potatoes & Green Jello." Fry sauce, I had recently learned, is a mixture of ketchup and mayo, and funeral potatoes are themselves a casserole, made with cheese and cornflakes and so named because they're often served at community gatherings after someone dies, though you can also find them at restaurants.
Jell-O-wholesome, shelf-stable, inexpensive enough to feed even the largest of families-is so beloved by Mormons that Utah and parts of the surrounding states have been nicknamed the Jell-O Belt. The lime flavor is the base of many a "green salad." The shirt had one glaring omission: dirty soda, a Utah phenomenon that's become a national curiosity. If "funeral potatoes" makes for sorry marketing copy, Don Draper might have come up with "dirty soda," which refers to a fountain drink any of the name-brand heavy hitters-that's been doctored with syrups, fruit purées, and creamers. Swig, a chain founded in 2010, coined and later trademarked the term.
But, in the years since, an astonishing number of copycats-Thirst, FiiZ, Sodalicious, Quench It!, to name a fewhave cropped up all over the state. You can even make a dirty soda at the gas station, where you're likely to find a selection of syrups and creamers by the self-serve fountain.
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