State of Mind 

Arrived, we did, in Salt Lake City on the fifth of January. Without a bed but with a flat tire. So the first challenge of living in a new city was finding a tire shop, and it's a miracle that I didn't wind up getting that service on nearby State Street.

There was something about State that started calling to me from our first visit, which came a day later. See, we ended up buying a bed, but somehow forgot about kitchenware, so off we went to eat at Little World (1356 S. State, SLC, 801-467-5213, orderlittleworld.com), an Asian dining favorite of my partner, who was returning to her hometown. She said that it was good, cheap, convenient, quick. Turned out that it was all of those things.

Because this came at the peak of the Omicron surge, the Little World dining room was closed. We were able to wait inside, though, watching a half-dozen delivery drivers arrive for their orders.

The woks sizzled, Spanish was spoken, the door opened and shut with every pickup. As we headed out to the car, parked about a block away, a few things started appearing on our short walk.

• Little World on State

A tall piece of cement artwork stationed right at the curb, with signage that read "Christian School," popped off an art-dappled building. A neighboring wall displayed a sort of Speed Racer-themed mural.

People on the sidewalk, curled up in sleeping bags beside their overfilled carts, provided a rough framework of walls. This single block was quite a little world, indeed.

At that moment, I made a decision to learn State Street like the back of my hand. I eventually put boundaries on the project—from the state Capitol down to Interstate 80 at 2400 South. It's tough to learn a whole town at once, but a single (if very large) thoroughfare? That's more doable. Since then, I've taken every opportunity to eat, drink, and play on State.

Those who've lived here for more than four months might take State Street for granted. Well, allow this newcomer to sing its praises.

SLC Vice
There are different ways to experience a city, and your mode of transportation is going to have pretty much everything to do with it. You might think you're seeing a lot when you're driving, but you see a whole lot more on foot.

• An alley cuts off of State Street near Piper Down.

On the day before St. Patrick's Day, the City Weekly editorial team convened at the popular Piper Down Pub (1492 S. State, SLC, 801-468-1492, piperdownpub.com). As it's only a 45-minute walk from my new home, I headed down 800 South to State Street, hung a left and kept walking. As I moseyed along, a few people warned me about State Street, giving me a sense that I might be headed into some weird territory.

Worth noting is that I've moved to Salt Lake from St. Louis, a city that sometimes takes a perverse pride in its toughness. The worst neighborhoods in and around St. Louis provide classic examples of true urban poverty, civic disengagement and economic disinvestment. The worst neighborhoods in and around St. Louis make State Street look like Rodeo Drive, the Magnificent Mile or Fifth Avenue.

State Street has its problems, to be sure. They are there, for those with eyes and street sense, but they're relative.

All along my walk, I kept thinking of how I could write a piece about State without touching on the vice, be it real, suggested or presumed. There are massage parlors along the street, and though that is no for-sure sign of illegality, the windowless neon calls out with a certain vibe. The neighboring hotels, meanwhile, can be seen as necessary, low-cost options for people priced out of the housing market, who take up short-term residence at a series of these single-story mysteries.

• Bob’s Magazine and Video

My urban radar being what it is, I couldn't help but pop into Bob's Magazine & Video (1207 S. State, SLC, 801-364-1114, bobsmagazineandvideo.com). "Our friendly associates," the business' website suggests, "can help you find what you're looking for." That was true, in a sense.

The associate was friendly, though the magazine stands were sparse (perhaps indicative of the magazine trade itself), a mishmash of remaindered stock, some of it coverless. A merchandising fridge was stocked with exactly four Cokes and a dozen waters. A big, walled corral just inside the doorway offered what's probably the shop's bread-and-butter: a sizable adult section that spills its video elements out to the counter. This place is an outlier, a charming remnant of a bygone age.

Check City
In 2021, I had a business go under, for all the usual reasons: I started during COVID, took on a bad partnership situation, did zero in sales. It wasn't a shining moment of my life. It was, though, the catalyst for a half-year's worth of financial cleanup, with checks still going out and, less frequently, coming back in.

With one of these elusive checks in hand, I went to my bank, Mountain America Credit Union (735 S. State, SLC, 801-325-6292, macu.com), only to find that an out-of-state check for an out-of-state business written by another out-of-state business meant that this $487 windfall wasn't going to be mine on this day. I spoke to a rep and that rep spoke to their boss—no luck. My only clear option emerged from an exaggerated chat with the service rep I spoke to the next day.

In a slightly hushed tone, this kind person suggested that I take myself to the nearest check cashing joint. And so I found myself at Check City (2120 S. State, SLC, 801-484-2424, checkcity.com), where three clerks behind glass of world-class thickness communicated through slots to clientele that seemed either: A. extremely well-versed in how Check City worked; or B. were like me—first-time, confused visitors.

I can't honestly say that the experience was a bad one, though this type of spot shouldn't be a first-choice for anyone's banking. The clerks were patient and considerate as they asked for the 1,212 items that I was required to produce. In a rare stroke of luck, I had packed all required items and was out shopping at a neighboring convenience store 30 minutes later. Of course, I was short the healthy service fee that's part-and-parcel of the check-cashing business model, but I knew that going in.

Even though it was only a short visit, the stories around me were worth listening in on. Short-term loans were sought. Checks for side gigs were cashed. Stories were told straight, or with multiple sidebars and digressions. A few folks were sent on their way without cash, despite their best attempts to explain complicated situations, muttering about the unfairness of life as they left this strangely clean, Spartan facility.

While I felt for them, this was a day of selfish vibes. And when I walked outside and hit the unseasonably warm afternoon air, a dead project had put about $450 into my pocket and an interesting experience into my life. So, we'll call the visit a very qualified win.

Tacos Don Rafa
It was overcast, windy and just past noon on a Monday. Surprisingly, the line at Tacos Don Rafa (798 S. State, SLC, 801-809-5197, tacosdonrafa.com) was only four people deep. The line built, though, person-by-person, until it stretched to about 15 people within the few minutes it took for me to scan the menu and place my order.

"Stretched" might not be the right word, as the line morphed around this li'l taco stand. Two cooks heroically worked to serve the wave of humanity swelling around this docked structure. A dozen more had already ordered and were seated at the wooden benches just behind the stand. For me, due to the language barrier at work here, I just said "yes" to every offer of toppings for my chicken burrito, which was packed up and sent home with me.

That was a very good burrito. I suspected it would be from my first 106 times passing the stand, and it lived up to expectations. (And there's another stand about 50 feet around the corner. Another research project!)

Leaving this tiny street food legend, I reminded myself—and not for the first time—to learn Spanish while living in Utah.

• Epic Brewing

Epic Brewing
My prior understanding of the liquor laws of Utah suggested that to enjoy a beer at a microbrewery on a Saturday night meant coming to the bartender with your process correct: You flip a coin three times, and if "heads" comes up twice, you make sure that the barkeep's family came to this state in a wagon. If that's true, you check the temperature and, if it's above freezing, you're allowed one 10-ounce beer of less than 7% ABV, or three 12-ounce beers of 5%. Just produce your state identification, your iCloud password, your mother's maiden name and, voila! Utah's finest ales arrive in short order. So simple.

On a recent weekend evening, the small staff of Epic Brewing Co. (825 S. State, SLC, 801-906-0123, epicbrewing.com) busily reminded folks of the taproom's mask policy and walked them through their ordering options. The clientele was sparse on this night, though the hour was early. Takeout visitors came and went, but only three customers were grouped around the modest bar.

Two were seated and enjoying their beer in relative silence while the third engaged the bartender in a night of music fandom. Our bartender—let's call him Levi—clicked through music options on the TV, bouncing through KEXP radio to live sets on YouTube.

Over the course of an hour, they covered a lot of music, bouncing in and out of sets, finally settling on one artist for extended play: Mac Miller. By this point, a fourth customer arrived and, my oh my, did she ever get an education about the late rapper.

Levi and his guest, who we'll call Elijah, were racing to fill her head with the good word about Miller. They spoke of production skills, his prowess as a writer, his doomed romances. She sat and listened to them and, when they stopped talking, Miller himself was heard from the TV.

We just sat and drank and smiled at it all, outlasting our fellow guests and taking the hint to move along once we were at the bar's early last call.

Epic Brewing has both high-gravity stuff and session-ready basics, too. They've got a fantastic takeout selection and the kind of lived-in taproom that makes you want to settle in for a couple rounds, or a series of tasters. On a given night, you might also get an education in the life-and-art of a late rapper/producer, preached with enthusiasm. That's if you're lucky.

• The International Artist Lounge stage features local talent and traveling acts.

International Artist Lounge
It's a compliment, really, to say that the International Artist Lounge—aka the International Bar & Lounge (342 S. State, SLC, 801-906-8798, internationalbarslc.com)—is the perfect, no-frills, day-drinking bar. It's the type of spot you'd find in the heart of any large city's downtown, providing a peaceful time of day on the sunny side of the clock.

Bartenders attend to side work, slicing lemons and limes. Gents of a certain age sit along the bar, cackling at jokes that are roughly as old as they are. It's a fine place to kill time when it's beautiful out, when outdoor loveliness is just not the vibe you're seeking.

At night, it's a different story. Especially when bands are involved.

The International features live music, though the calendar is one that takes on some flux. Bands seeking a gig between "here" and "there" have been known to jump onto IAL's large, mirrored stage, not too many days after a booking. On Wednesdays, there's experimental jazz, and the Demons Concert Series has begun on Saturday nights, featuring varied sounds.

On April 2, for example, the two-piece Demons took the stage around 10 p.m., opening for a local act called Goldie & The Guise. The room was filled with other local musicians, many of whom share time in two or three bands.

For a good long while, the room was made up of regulars who'd ridden out the evening hours, augmenting the crowd assembling for the show. In time, a more random assortment moved in, not there for the music, per se, but more to rub shoulders with a crowd inside the big confines of the International. A dancer, or two, found/lost their footing. Buzzed onlookers heckled from the safety of the perimeter. The core audience stood directly in front of the stage, supporting a band seemingly not lacking for friends.

Friends seem at the heart of this new business. As owner Nate Silverstein Tree told City Weekly in February, "I get to work with my artist friends—painters, musicians, all across the board—and we get to create this space for ourselves." Based on a handful of visits, it's obvious the space has, in fact, created an early core; you might see every member of Durian Durian, for example, striking up and down the long bar on the night of a show. Increasingly and inevitably, a bright, busy room is going to attract randos, and an interesting cross-tension's going to form.

• Wasatch Inn

The early feel suggests that the insider vibe is the rule more than the exception, with shows starting an hour or more after the announced time. Covers are paid by some, not by others. Every business, of course, has the prerogative to set the tone.

We can argue whether the International has already established, in a matter of months, the most innovative music booking policy in town. An appearance by under-the-radar Japanese blues/rock/skronk act Loolowningen & The Far East Idiots in March cemented that. This was a band that showed up, played to 50-ish people on a weeknight and simply destroyed. It takes a special room to: a. book that band; and b. have an audience that's receptive.

The International, depending on whether it wants to be a clubhouse or a club, could become a spiritual successor to places like the Zephyr or the Dead Goat, about which I've heard so much. Or it could become the fulcrum of an entire music scene. If the staff and ownership want it, they could be one of the most special, most-vital music rooms in the U.S.

State Secrets
When you move to a city and have guidebooks, you might as well start earmarking some pages, working down the list of musts, in town and the region. Then you just start looking around. To date, I've not yet crossed the following, hallowed State Street thresholds—but they're on my list.

The Beehive House (67 E. South Temple, SLC, 801-240-2681, churchofjesuschrist.org): I'm told I can't understand Utah history without more boning up on Brigham Young, among other early LDS leaders, and that this is a key spot to visit. As someone who took a few months to figure out this whole "beehive" thing, I should prioritize a visit.

• A sculpture outside of Ralphael Plescia’s “Christian School” gallery.

Christian School (1324 S. State, SLC): Ralphael Plescia's outsider art masterwork has been praised all over the country (and world), though many here seem unaware of the biblically themed artwork inside this building. Drop-by visits, to date, have been unsuccessful and a Google search deems it "temporarily closed."

Shades Taproom and Grill (366 S. State, SLC, 435-200-3009, shadesbrewing.beer): This new joint from the folks at Shades Brewing beckons me like a siren, calling my name as I pass. Soon.

On the other hand, I have been to these places:

Aces High Saloon (1588 S. State, SLC, 801-906-8908, aceshighsaloon.com): I watched a country cover band send up Depeche Mode and Prince. Can't lie: their reinterpretations worked. If I had a dime for every piece of Heavy Metal Shop merch worn by the crowd, I'd have left with 70 cents.

The Bayou (645 S. State, SLC, 801-961-8400, utahbayou.com): I'm the biggest NOLA honk you don't know, so this one was on the list even before a first visit was arranged. I enjoyed my food and drink well enough, though my experience was cheapened by some jerks just down the bar. Need a re-do.

Cash America Pawn (789 S. State, SLC, 801-322-3841): I went in looking for a VCR/TV combo, the kind sold in the '90s. Like every other business, they didn't stock one. Had one been in stock, this would've been a State Street Miracle. Maybe next time. I didn't feel like the most-valued customer to ever walk through the door.

Mark of the Beastro (666 S. State, SLC, 385-202-7386, markofthebeastro.com): Enjoyed a midday meal at this vegan restaurant. Stared approvingly at the Halloween vibe. Read the volumes of social issue messaging taking up the rest of the wall space. Heard a customer ask for food to be sent back to the kitchen because the meat substitute "looked too real."

Pie Hole (344 S. State, SLC, 801-359-4653, pieholeutah.com): As advertised, they serve pizza. And they're one of only a few options downtown for hot food after midnight.

• Qaderi Sweetz N Spicez

Qaderi Sweetz N Spicez (1785 S. State, SLC, 801-484-0265): Offering "rice, spice & taste of paradise," this Pakistani/Indian grocery and dry goods market is a sensory delight. Take in the visuals of the floor-to-ceiling stocking; smells from the in-house cafe; trance-like sounds from the overhead PA. What a joy.