The Best (And Worst) Classic Utah Foods And Drinks, Ranked

Utah's cuisine might just be the least understood in the United States. And, as a Utah-born, ex-Mormon food writer, I have conflicted feelings about the piqued interest in Utah cuisine that seems to grip the nation every few years starting in the 2000s — this is when LDS Prophet Gordon B. Hinkley cultivated a more public-facing church image via major media interviews, putting the LDS lifestyle that rules Utah on the radar. When presidential candidate Mitt Romney made waves in the early 2010s, Mormon influencers and bloggers went viral in the mid-2010s, and reality television shows starring Mormons caused a stir in the 2020s, they likewise got Utah's culture out in the open. And yet, culinary misconceptions remain.

So, I'm ranking the state's regular consumables from worst to best. Aside from my albeit strong opinions, I considered the views expressed by my former Utah community, Utah Reddit forums, and ex-Mormon Facebook groups. So, from newly-famous concoctions to dishes only Mormons seem to know about, here's how 14 Utah food and drinks stack up.

Pastrami burgers are a regular order for locals. This popular beef-patty-meets-pastrami-pile sandwich was popularized by Crown Burger, a well-known Salt Lake chain founded by James Katsanevas and his family. Though pastrami burgers were eaten in California, Crown Burgers made them a Utah staple when they opened in the 1970s. Today, drive-ins and burger joints around the state highlight them on their menus.

With a hamburger patty, onions, American cheese, lettuce, steamed pastrami, and tomatoes on brioche, fry sauce is a must-add ingredient on Utahn pastrami burgers despite out-of-state recipes calling for Thousand Island dressing. This ranks low on my list for a few reasons, but mainly because it just feels like a lot of meat relying on the fry sauce for flavor — we'll get to that delicious condiment later. And, despite the lack of seasoning, the hamburger patty still somehow manages to clash with the pastrami's spices. Color me unimpressed.

Hawaiian Haystacks are, unfortunately, a staple at pretty much every gathering in Utah. I have so many memories of building these at Girl's Camp, at the many Linger Longers hosted on Sundays, ward potlucks, and parties hosted by our Young Women's leaders. It's truly just a confusing mess of a dish, but Hawaiian Haystacks are typically comprised of unseasoned white rice topped with a pile of canned peas, canned mandarin oranges, canned cream of chicken soup, canned black olives, diced green peppers, diced tomatoes, cubed unseasoned chicken, celery slices, and chow mein noodles. To spice things up, there might be a bowl of nuts, raisins, broccoli, maraschino cherries, or shredded coconut to add to it.

This dish's build-your-own nature is the only reason it's not ranking dead last. Whenever I'm served this, I can save it by adding extra fresh vegetables and my own smuggled-in bottle of hot sauce, but as is, it's deeply mediocre. It's one of those heavily Mormonized traces of Polynesia found throughout Utah, tied to the church's strong, centuries-old presence in Polynesia — many missionaries serve there. As a result, many Utahns, particularly returned missionaries, make renditions of Polynesian dishes. Though Hawaiian Haystacks are not Hawaiian in any way short of the inclusion of chicken, rice, and pineapple, it's part of this little-known aspect of the Utah foodway.

It would be impossible to talk about Utah cuisine without discussing Jello-O salads. I always saw at least a handful of varieties at every gathering, from church events to dinner parties. Frog Eye Salad is almost a guaranteed plus-one at any get-together, despite there being so many better Jell-O salads — more on those later. Though the Midwest as a whole has versions of this, Utah-style recipes mix Acini De Pepe, canned fruits, mini marshmallows, shredded coconut, and some nameless creamy custard. Overly sweet and mushy, it's like a preschooler tried to make pasta salad.

There isn't really a discernible difference between Frog Eye Salad and Glorified Rice, a Scandinavian recipe, other than the starch. Though the dish's origins are difficult to pin down, it could have derived from the kitchens of the many rice pudding-eating Danish Mormons, like my paternal ancestors who arrived in Utah in the 1800s. Or, it could just be another one of the endless streams of Jell-O monstrosities that align well with the LDS church's policy that requires Mormons to have both three-month and long-term food storage. I suspect that Frog Eye Salad is more the offspring of this self-resilient culture rather than the Scandinavian influences at play.

Utahns famously love green Jell-O, so there are endless dishes centered around the stuff. Though it's also just served plain, many Utahns think of it with shredded carrots either on top or mixed in. It's not bad, but a lot of people really don't like it. On one Reddit thread, when asked about lime Jell-O with shredded carrots, countless users replied in recognition and disgust, with one stating, "You are not alone in the nightmare." And, I'll never forget in fifth grade when, for a class project involving everyone bringing a dish from each state, the kid assigned to Utah brought a massive casserole dish of green jello sprinkled with shredded carrots. It's just so woven into the culture.

Jell-O, especially green Jell-O with shredded carrots, seems to be the symbol of Utah. During the 2002 Salt Lake Olympics, pins depicting the dish were sold as memorabilia. In 2001, the Senate responded to an outcry from BYU students and voted to make Jell-O the official favorite state snack. The hype is still alive and well in Utah, made up of food storage-friendly and budget ingredients. Though this dish is pretty average in my opinion, it's an important part of the Utah food tapestry.

Utahns are big ice cream fans. It seems like every major college in the state has its own — Aggie Ice Cream of Utah State University is all the rage in my birthplace of Cache Valley, while BYU's Creamery is a star for those further south. But for when you can't head out to your nearby campus or just don't want to fight the crowds of alumni and locals, Creamies are the pick for most. These thick and, as the name suggests, creamy popsicles are a common sight in Utahn freezers. I have so many memories of cooling off with these on sweltering summer evenings with my four siblings.

Though created by a Cache Valley local, Creamies are a big deal across the state. I've tried just about every flavor, but the strawberry and the banana editions are the best by far. I love the sweet, slight tanginess of the strawberry. And banana, one of the original three flavors, is perfectly rich and satisfying. The only reason why Creamies don't rank higher is that, other than the very best flavors, most of them feel like run-of-the-mill dairy popsicles.

Ironport is one of those Utah drinks that no one outside of the Intermountain West seems to know about. Comprised of seltzer water and Ironport syrup, it tastes like spiced, slightly fruity root beer. This unique flavor will forever be nostalgic for Utahns, especially for those in the north. Here, snowcone syrups based on the flavor are bottled and soda fountains like The Bluebird in Logan have historically mixed their own versions of the drink. My mother worked there in the early 1990s, where she made the Ironport drink every day.

While its origins are unclear, some believe Ironport was named after Orrin Porter Rockwell, a famous man in Mormon history known as "The Destroying Angel." Regardless of where it came from, it's long been a staple at Utah soda fountains, including The Bluebird. It's harder to find now outside of settings like these, but it's still on the menu at plenty of local hubs. And, if it gets discontinued at your favorite drive-in, many just order their own giant bottle of the stuff and make it themselves.

It wouldn't be an article about Utah food unless I mentioned Funeral Potatoes. This creamy, crunchy, and stick-to-your-ribs meal is made with shredded or cubed potatoes, canned creamy soup of whatever you have in the cupboard, and literally every dairy product in the fridge. Though famously topped with cornflakes, potato chips are a frequent substitute. Funeral Potatoes would be higher in my ranking if they were always made well, but they can be mushy and flavorless, depending on the cook.

Whether because of the striking name or the increasing appearance of it on social media, the whole world seems to know what this is now — it was even one of the aforementioned souvenir pins at the 2002 Salt Lake Olympics. Despite its name, Funeral Potatoes, Utah's favorite casserole, isn't just served at funerals. They're common sightings at potlucks, church gatherings, big events, and the dinner table. I had these just about every supper with my grandparents, who, like many, plated theirs with a big helping of vinegar-dressed salad to cut through the butter.

Perhaps due to their heartiness, I remember Funeral Potatoes also served in many Utah households for dinner on Fast Sunday, the first Sabbath of the month when Mormons don't eat or drink until evening. Meanwhile, Utah businesses often host Funeral Potato cook-offs. The Relief Society, the LDS church's women's organization, is often credited with its spread. The group has long crafted ward cookbooks with the congregation's recipes to raise money, and I've yet to see one without a Funeral Potatoes recipe.

Fry sauce is one of those rare Utah food items that the general public has caught wind of. It's creamy, tangy, and good with everything. This mixture of ketchup and mayonnaise tastes just like In-N-Out's Thousand Island-like spread, but without relish. In high school, I definitely kept a stash of it in my locker, taking the little cups of it from the school cafeteria. As the condiment of choice for most, it's a staple at every restaurant and drive-thru in Utah. Some Reddit users even report major chains like Five Guys make fry sauce available in the state, though some on TripAdvisor state customers are cut off after a certain point — clearly, fast food giants aren't equipped for Utahns' fry sauce appetite.

The fry sauce obsession isn't new in Utah. It's believed to have been a midcentury invention from the fast food chain, Arctic Circle. This regional burger joint behind the state's most important sauce includes pickle juice and paprika in its iconic offering. They call it the Original Fry Sauce, and customers can order it by the bottle. If I had an Arctic Circle near me here in Seattle, I'd be visiting weekly just for that.

Brought into the spotlight via viral TikTok videos and television shows straight out of Utah, dirty sodas are having a moment. They're so customizable and fun to order. Comprised of soda pop, creamer, syrup, lime juice, and ice, a dirty soda can be whatever you want it to be. Dirty soda shops have been wildly popular since I was in high school in the 2010s — these are where you go on first dates, come after football games, and snag refreshments before heading into the canyon to hike. My dirty soda of choice? The "Guava Have It!" from Swig or the "Castaway" from Sodalicious.

The lore behind dirty sodas is, like most food and drink origins in Utah, connected to the LDS faith. I frequently have to explain the Word of Wisdom to my "nevermo," or never Mormon, friends. It's a code that Mormons, including the large majority of the state's lawmakers, live by. These regulations ban alcohol, coffee, and other substances.

So, instead of coffee in the morning or alcohol in the evening, many Utahns get their buzz from the state's many soda drive-thrus. Cookies are the most common pairing — pink sugar cookies in particular seem to be on the menu of most dirty soda shops, including Sodalicious and Swig. But sugar isn't regulated in the Word of Wisdom, so as the one vice for many Utahns, it has a firm grip on the state's food traditions.

It's hard to decide if dirty sodas or the pink sugar cookie is better, as they're so often eaten together and equally sweet, but I'm partial to the latter. The thick, pink, almond frosting and sugary cookie are just perfect for each other. I've never had a bad one. Whereas dirty soda can be boring if the soda shop you visit doesn't have enough options. I remember pink sugar cookies being the dessert of choice at potlucks and church events, and neighbors often brought platefuls of their homemade versions on a regular basis to our home.

Though the origins are contested, many believe that Crumbl is behind the pink sugar cookie. The founders used a family recipe, and for many Utahns, the shop immediately comes to mind when they think of the treat. However, Crumbl can pull the pink sugar cookie from its menus, leading those without access to Utah's many cookie shops to bake their own at home.

Raspberry Fluff Jell-O Salad is the one gelatin dessert worth its sugar. Made with vanilla pudding, raspberry Jell-O, frozen or fresh raspberries, and Cool Whip, it's tangy, sweet, and refreshing. This sits among the many aforementioned canned goods-filled gelatin monstrosities found at nearly every Utahn potluck, church event, supper, and picnic table. But, unlike the rest of the Jell-O salads, Raspberry Fluff Jell-O Salad is always outstanding. Utilizing retro cooking techniques and accessible ingredients, this easy-to-make dessert is a state-wide fixture for which I have no notes.

Though this is another one of those Utah foods that leans into food storage items, the addition of fresh fruit makes all the difference. If it's out of season, you can always use frozen berries, which is probably why this is so popular all year round. I have so many memories of eating this with my grandparents, and I love that this dessert leans into all things raspberry, a state specialty. It feels like classic Utah in the best way.

First off, I just want to say that this is not a scone. It's among the best foods you'll ever try, but the name is a miss. What makes Utah scones unique is that they're a sweet fry bread. Most Utahns dress theirs with powdered sugar, Beehive State honey, and thick globs of butter. I've also watched many Utahns add slatherings of homemade jam. I add cinnamon, and, as an ex-Mormon, I get to dip mine in coffee for the ultimate treat.

Though there used to be fast food chains that specialized in traditional or inventive Utah scones, this is mainly something that you'll find served at farmers' markets, festivals, and diners. Researchers have a hard time pinning down exactly why Utahns call these scones — no dictionary describes the Utah version in the "scone" definitions — but many believe that due to English being the state's largest ethnic group in the 19th century, Britain's catchall term for biscuit was applied to the region's fry bread.

Imagine the biggest dinner rolls you've ever seen, gleaming in golden butter. Picture pulling them apart, and they're perfectly fluffy on the inside with melt-in-your-mouth bread. Those are Lion House rolls. They're old-fashioned, oversized, and quite possibly the best dinner side in the world. I pile my plate with them when they're available, and I know I'm not alone. These yeast-based rolls are time-consuming to make, so they're not an everyday table topper, but they're always served for special occasions like Fast Sunday, potlucks, wedding receptions, and holiday dinners. For those who aren't into the Mormon tradition of baking bread, Deseret Book, a major Utah bookstore, sells mixes.

They're named after Lion House Pantry, which used to serve heaps of the rolls to hungry customers. This cafeteria was a highly popular stop for Salt Lake-goers. Sitting within what used to be home to Brigham Young, one of the first LDS presidents, this spot was right off Temple Square. Serving big plates of 1800s meals, each came with a warm Lion House roll.

This is another fantastic raspberry treat in Utah. In my opinion, the fruit is the best milkshake add-in, and as mentioned, they're a specialty in Utah. They're sweet, tart, creamy, and, like all Utah-style milkshakes, thick — if you gave a Utahn a milkshake and their choice of utensil, they'd grab a spoon. They might even be thicker than ice cream, so don't expect Utahns to call milkshakes a drink. They're a food in the Beehive State, and they're the very best of Utah.

Everyone in Utah loves raspberry milkshakes from Bear Lake, where festivals are thrown in their honor. I, like many Utahns, remember drinking these with my family at La Beau's. Opened in 1981, this beloved shack on the lake feels synonymous with the treat. Though most Utah milkshakes are out of this world, raspberry milkshakes from La Beau's are in a league of their own, so the wrap-around-the-block line is always worth it. Getting these tangy yet sugary cups on a hot day at Bear Lake is the quintessence of a Utah summer for locals. No other food quite captures the magic of my birthplace, and for that reason, it's the very best Utah dish.

This ranking is based on my personal experiences with Utah food as someone who was born in Utah and spent most of her childhood in the Mormon church, a major influencer of the state's food scene. My family was among the founders of Utah communities in the original pioneer groups, so these foods are part of my heritage. I'm a descendant of many LDS leaders, and am the great-great-great-great-granddaughter of Wilford Woodruff, one of the first LDS presidents. So, though I left the Mormon faith when I was 20, and didn't spend my whole life living in the state, I believe I can call myself a Utah food expert.

While I have some opinions as an insider, I also considered some universal views about these sometimes controversial dishes. I turned back to the opinions I grew up hearing, but I also looked to online forums like Reddit to gauge the latest views on Utah food and drink. It was hilarious to read through the ex-Mormon forums on horrific Jell-O concoctions that still plague their nightmares, and I found company in the Utah chats about the best of my home state. Opinions on these largely old-school dishes vary, but most strong opinions are pretty universal: Frog Eye Salad is a mushy mess, Hawaiian haystacks make no sense, fry sauce is king, and if made even remotely well, Funeral Potatoes could save the world.