When Dave and I went out to dinner in Salt Lake City for the first time, I ordered a cosmopolitan. Our adorable young waiter put a “Polly-Pockets” sized glass in front of me and I just stared at it. Then, I thought, OK, this must be a Utah thing. They let you sample the drink first to make sure you like it. You know, like when you order a bottle of wine. I tasted it, and told the waiter it was fine and he could bring my drink now. He looked straight at me, laughed, and said, “You’re not from Utah are you?” He proceeded to give us a lesson on all of the byzantine Utah liquor laws. I am occasionally cranky about the high cost of my favorite vinos at the state owned liquor store. So my annoyingly wise husband, points out that it is better to live in a state where you pay a little more for your wine and a lot less for your house. Hmm……..the jury is still out on that one!
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