A Lack of Buzz In The Beehive State (Issue 30)

Draconian. Peculiar. Embarassing. These words are trending in regard to much legislative decision-making of late, but in the world of beer, they are best applied to the state of Utah's liquor laws, which have become a mire of 20th century Prohibition-era restriction. In short, it's a battle of "Mormon" versus "More Money".

Ever heard of a Zion Curtain? Probably not, unless you're a drapes connoisseur or resident of "The Beehive State," as Utah is known. It's a seven foot long "solid, translucent and permanent" partition, usually made of frosted glass, that blocks customers from seeing their drinks being prepared. But why? The stated reasoning is to combat "excessive drinking by keeping alcohol out of sight of restaurant patrons who choose not to consume alcohol", which seems a bit paradoxical, and to protect minors from the demons of alcohol.

Up until this year, Zion Curtains were mandatory for restaurants and pubs, despite being a point of increasing contention as the rest of the country forges ahead with alcohol reform. Now, a venue can choose to remove the Zion Curtain so long as it maintains a 10-foot buffer zone between a bar area and a restaurant where minors are not allowed, or a five-foot zone with a barrier at least 42 inches high, earning these options nicknames such as "Zion Moats" and "Zion DMZ's." These changes, along with many more, are coming courtesy of H.B. 442, which was signed in March by Governor Gary Herbert and will take effect in July. 

Think Zion Curtains are odd? They're just the tip of the iceberg, but let's take a look at how and why these rules came into effect in the first place.

A Zion Curtain is a seven foot long "solid, translucent and permanent" partition, usually made of frosted glass, that blocks customers from seeing their drinks being prepared.

Demographics, specifically religious demographics, are a key factor in Utah's wonky legislation. As you likely know, Utah is the home of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, also known as Mormons. The LDS Church's health code, as decreed by founder Joseph Smith, condemns the use of alcohol, tobacco and "hot drinks", specifically coffee and tea. Over 60 percent of Utahns count themselves as members of the LDS, with around 40 percent considering themselves active members. These demographics also translate to positions of power – as of 2014, 88 percent of Utah legislators were Mormon, setting the stage for a state largely against the consumption of alcohol.

Multiple attempts to make Utah a dry state failed, but the sentiment remains, resulting in a perennial battle between those advocating for freedom to sell and drink alcohol as they please, and those seeking to restrict the right to do so. Recently, Utah passed legislation taking effect in 2018 lowering the legal limit from 0.08 blood alcohol content to 0.05 BAC, the lowest in the country – and low enough that one drink might put you over the limit. While many are outraged, it's worth noting that Utah was also the first state to adopt the 0.08 standard in 1983, its decision is backed by the National Transportation Safety Board, and that many European nations have adopted the 0.05 standard. To be fair, it can help to save lives.

Other major aspects of Utah's laws that deviate from the norm include its designation of what constitutes beer and who can sell it – grocery and convenience stores may not sell anything above 3.2 percent alcohol by weight (4 percent ABV), and beer above that threshold is considered liquor. Full-strength beer, wine and liquor may only be sold through state-run liquor stores and smaller package agencies, of which there are 41 and 111 respectively, or sold by the glass in restricted amounts at licensed restaurants. However, to wine you must dine and not stray far from your table, and make sure you do it between the hours of 11:30am and 1:00am, or you may be penalized.

From the Utah Department of Alcoholic Beverage Control's website: "Alcohol beverage service in a licensed restaurant requires that you order food with your drink, that your beverage be delivered to your table or counter by your server, and that you consume your drink at or near the table or counter."

Until 2013, you weren't even allowed to order a drink before ordering food, a policy affecting untold legions of awkward first daters hoping to loosen up. That law was rewritten after a number of controversial citations were issued to restaurants who chose to serve anyways.

While these rules seem a bit authoritarian from a consumer perspective, businesses are the ones "losing big", and many would argue the state of Utah itself, especially in prospective tourism dollars.

Scott Beck, president and CEO of Visit Salt Lake, has been quoted saying would-be visitors' perceptions of Utah keep it from maximizing its earning potential:  “We are told there are not enough restaurants and nightlife to keep the visitors occupied outside of [business conventions], because they can’t get a drink. We call it nightlife, but we’re not talking about nightlife in terms of strip clubs and gaming; we’re talking about nightlife like [restaurants and dance clubs] — places where visitors can network or socialize with their friends and peers... Our liquor laws create a sense, and in some cases a reality, that you can’t do that in Utah. And we lose hundreds of millions of dollars a year in delegate spending because of that perception.”

Utah brewers are well aware of the state's eccentric legislation and cultural history. Some breweries like Wasatch have learned to embrace Utah's idiosyncracies, while others have moved on to greener pastures.

Chain restaurants may choose to avoid Utah to save on expensive liquor licenses and remodeling concerns to account for Zion-related construction, and brunch restaurants often stray due to the inability to sling bloody marys and mimosas before 11:30am, though that will change to 10:30am come July 1, 2018 (but only on weekends and holidays).

Perhaps the most direct example of lost business comes from Epic Brewery, the state's first "strong-beer" microbrewery, which opened in Salt Lake City in 2008. When it came time to expand in 2013, Epic took its multi-million dollar facility to Denver.  "Who knows," co-founder David Cole said, "what things they'll dream up next to punish an industry that pays millions of millions of taxes in this state. [Utah's alcohol laws are] going to change a lot slower than we are as a company."

Whether the LDS-centric state will shift to a "latter-day sláinte" is still undecided, but legislation such as H.B. 442 marks a step in the right direction. As the past decade's craft beer renaissance continues to incise into outmoded thinking, one can only hope that the Beehive state will become a more friendly place to buzz.

Visitors to Epic Brewing's Salt Lake facility can enjoy tastings the "Tapless Taproom." To guarantee easier growth, the company's expansion brewery was built out of state, in Denver.

Photos courtesy respective brewers.