I don’t really know Jordan at all. My impression: He doesn’t say a lot, but rather, he lets his skating do the talking. I watched him cruise around the 9th and 9th park hitting every obstacle there. Ledges, rails, gaps, transition, all with the same effortless style. He looks like he’s having fun. No stressing out, just loving every minute. The same was true for the 16 times he jumped down this set of stairs. Always smiling, never stressing. He landed the 360 flip, rode off the curb, did a frontside flip and switch bombed the hill. Too perfect.
On a rainy, spring Salt Lake City evening, music fans of all ages gathered at The Depot for SLUG’s 28th Anniversary Party Fashion Show. Upon first entering the venue, it seemed to be empty yet full of life. The night went on, getting closer to the time of the show, the building started to fill and the show began.
The format of the show was based on 28 years of fashion to represent the 28 years of SLUG. Starting back in the 80s and all the way to 2016. The designers created amazing interpretations of each year and style, and threw an amazing alternative vision to each design. One of my favorites was a design by Pretty Macabre, who created a very amazing rendition of Freddy Krueger, with knife hands, a bag filled with blood and a Jason mask—recreating Freddy vs. Jason for the year 2003.
Everybody throughout the show and party was having fun, enjoying each other’s company and taking in what these amazing designers created. The show was inspiring and an amazing look back on the 28 years of SLUG Magazine. They finished the show off by bringing out all of the designers and models, one by one, for one last look. All night the whole crowd basked in all the amazing designs.
SLUG Executive Editor Angela H. Brown closed out the show by thanking everyone who made the show possible and reflecting on the past years of SLUG—she also she had a pretty bad-ass outfit. Everyone left feeling inspired and excited about the future of SLUG and our ever-growing Salt Lake culture. –CJ Anderson
Relive the party with Bes Films Videography‘s video recap:
Photos by CJ Anderson, Garrett Dutcher, Jake Vivori, Madi Mekkelson, Robert Hirschi, Ryan Houston and Zach Lambros.
Thanks to DJs Typefunk, AudioTreats, Devareaux, Serge du Preea and Nightfreq, and to our sponsors, 24tix.com, The Depot and Smilebooth.
Featured designers: Andrea Black, Andrea Hansen, Ayana Ifè, Betsy Barker, Brody Ashton, Candice Pugh, Cartier Dior, Cas Reich, Cinamon Hadley, Danny Nappi, Davis Hong, DesNeiges Gregory, Gaby Okito, Heggy Gonzalez, Ingrid Kapfhammer, Jenn McGrew, Jenny Hill, Katie Waltman, Kimberly Dunn, Lisa Miller Mecham, Liz Bryson, Mary Rino, McKell Maddox, McQuiston Stoddard, Melody Noy, Rebecca Richards Fenton, Robin Uata, Snow Shepherd
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Sweet Lake Biscuits & Limeade
54 W. 1700 S. • SLC, Utah
801.997.9220 • sweetlakeslc.com
Tuesday–Sunday: 7:30 a.m.–2:30 p.m.
Since Sweet Lake has been a staple of mine every year that I go to the farmer’s market, I was excited to learn that owners Hasen Cone and Teri Rosquist have expanded their operation into a brick-and-mortar store and included biscuits on their menu. The result is something special, refreshing and crowded.
There are many things that make Sweet Lake ideal for a brunch outing, but the best thing about their menu is that it caters to all. Those who are looking for something a bit lighter would be very satisfied with the Biscuit Bar ($6). The Biscuit Bar comes in sweet and savory variations: two biscuits either served with homemade strawberry jam and honey or slathered in Sweet Lake’s mushroom or sausage gravy. It’s probably the best way to get a good look at the foundation of Sweet Lake’s menu. Some biscuits are fragile and flaky, but that’s not how Sweet Lake rolls—these things have to provide structural integrity to some of the most epic sandwiches that I’ve ever seen, but we’ll get to those in a moment.
The biscuits at Sweet Lake have an exterior crust that is golden brown and slightly crispy, while their interior remains soft and chewy. Even after repeat visits, the house biscuits stand on their own as sterling representatives of Sweet Lake’s culinary prowess.
For those who are looking for a more diner-inspired version of brunch, look no further than Sweet Lake’s arsenal of biscuit sandwiches. Not only do these beasts test the boundaries of physical science, but they also demonstrate an uncanny ability to combine textures and flavors into something new and exciting. Any first-timer to Sweet Lake should immediately dive into the Hoss ($10), a breakfast high-rise that manages to include pretty much everything that one wants for an early-morning meal. It consists of one biscuit stuffed with a fried chicken breast, bacon, egg and cheddar cheese. That alone would be delectable enough, but the monster comes served in a generous hot tub of sausage gravy. For an extra two bucks, they’ll add a portion of their Red Quinoa Potato Hash Browns, which completes the diner feel—though they’re by no means necessary.
The first thing that popped into my mind when I saw this pretty little number come to the table was that it was a sandwich worthy of a fork and knife, which is an assessment that I don’t make lightly. The fried chicken was perhaps the most surprising aspect of the Hoss—it’s breaded and fried in the tradition of Japanese katsu chicken instead of the Southern-inspired buttermilk and flour. The chicken skin is lightly crunchy and nutty, and the breast meat remains moist and flavorful—there’s nothing dry happening here. The bacon at Sweet Lake is both firm and tender, striking a nice balance between the crispy and chewy ends of the bacon spectrum. The egg yolk and gravy are luxurious—there’s really no other word for the way all of that savory ebullience brings everything together.
Another powerful contender on Sweet Lake’s sandwich menu is called the Pokey Joe ($9), a take on the pulled pork sandwich. The Pokey Joe is also served between a buttery house biscuit, and the pulled pork comes with homemade slaw and crispy onions. As a side, it comes with a basket of tortilla chips and their limeade salsa. While not as utterly magnificent as the Hoss, the Pokey Joe remains a stalwart comrade to its gravy-slathered brother. The pulled pork is slow-roasted and tender, but it’s the slaw that remains Pokey Joe’s secret weapon—it’s got an acidity level that works with the pork and the biscuit, and its crunchy texture adds a lot to the whole package.
While it can be a bit of a risk to stray from a specialty restaurant’s claim to fame, venturing away from Sweet Lake’s biscuits remains a safe bet. The Conspiracy Cakes ($9) are the most accessible option. It’s a short stack of plate-sized pancakes that are made from home-ground organic wheat. They also come with a fried egg, some of that delicious bacon, and a piece of fried chicken for $4 more. I’m a fan of pancakes that err on the side of fluffy, but I also love it when they have a bit more body—which is exactly what Sweet Lake’s home-ground wheat flour provides.
Any of these offerings go well with Sweet Lake’s famous limeade. It’s all fresh-squeezed onsite and comes in several different variations. My personal favorite was the Habanero Limeade ($4), which spikes their original concoction with a spicy kick of capsaicin heat. All of their limeade comes with a generous helping of pure cane sugar in the bottom of the glass, which sweetens up the tart mixture and adds a nice crunch to every sip—it’s every bit as good as I remember.
Sweet Lake’s comfort-food menu and Southern aesthetic make it the kind of brunch destination that is ideal for those who have slapped brunch with a negative stereotype. It’s the kind of place that is confident in its culinary vision without being arrogant, and it’s that balance that makes it a repeat destination.
Ayana Ifè is a fashion designer who designs clothing that is edgy, modern and modest. Catch some of her designs during Utah Fashion Week‘s Urban/Streetwear Show, held at 6 p.m. or 8:30 p.m. on March 17 at The Falls Event Center, and at SLUG‘s 28th Anniversary Party Fashion Show, held March 25 at The Depot. Keep up to date with Ifè on Instagram (@ayanaife) and at etsy.com/shop/AyanaIfe.
Special thanks to CUAC, who hosted this month’s SLUG Style within their beautiful gallery space, and to artist Scott Malbaurn, whose exhibition Cake will be on show in CUAC‘s back gallery through March 10.
Every month, SLUG Style features distinct and unique members of the community and asks them why they do what they do. Exploring more than just clothing, SLUG Style is an attempt to feature the people who give Salt Lake City flavor through personality and panache.
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The Workers Cup
Sundance Film Festival
Director: Adam Sobel
The Workers Cup follows men who work in camps in Doha, Qatar, for Gulf Contracting Company (GCC). This company is one of the construction businesses developing the city in anticipation of the Qatar-hosted 2022 Fifa World Cup, and the bulk of their workers traveled there to escape crippling unemployment in their home countries. They hail from countries spanning from Africa, the Middle East and Asia, but despite their various backgrounds, they share a passion for football (“soccer” in the USA). One man, Kenneth Kwesi, came on the premise that he could easily join a football club, a lie that his recruiter told him in Ghana. To boost morale and to show off the purported value that they hold for their workers, a coalition of development companies participate in a football tournament, wherein each company assembles a team. It’s safe to assume that each team that participates lives and breathes football—but since GCC is our team of champions, we know that football inspirits and animates them, keeping them alive amid their demanding work-camp environs.
The company’s workers essentially become indentured servants—if not economic slaves. They sign their lives away and cannot even leave the company without its consent. Though they have workers’ rights and are entitled to one day off per week, they customarily work 12 hours a day, seven days a week. Even a date with a woman arranged online raises eyebrows enough to warrant a plausible visit to a “higher-up’s” office. The opportunity to punctuate their dreary routines with this sport, however, becomes their vocation. Kwesi becomes the team captain, and they face off against another company team. They lose dismally. From there, they vie for more training, declaring that they would like to represent GCC with the utmost honor. Moving forward, they improve their performance in an upswing. With each win, their boyish excitement bubbles as we root for them. All while exuding pride for their company team, though, they lament their prison-like conditions in their worksite and camps behind the scenes of football matches. One scene features a discussion among team members about what qualifies as freedom. The Workers Cup juxtaposes their realities on and off the field, and we feel just how much this game means to them on a palpable, existential level.
When I say palpable, I mean that I am on the edge of my seat with each goal in a GCC game. Each goal that the on-field team scores causes their teammates on the sidelines to erupt in celebration. It’s infectious. Even viewers who don’t relate to football can get behind the team. Their brotherhood charms us, and we can relate to their spiritual sense of purpose in playing football and earning more training time from their General Manager. This camaraderie also accentuates the grim reality that these companies use their teams’ notoriety as a marketing ploy to draw even more intrigue from potential workers and as a way to soften their image in the way of workers’ rights. As the GCC team advances to crucial games, they grapple with their brief fates as workers-cum-athletes in a world where they can’t even shop at the same mall as rich people.
Even though The Workers Cup offers a bleak perspective about one of the world’s most celebrated events, we see “unity in diversity” in these men. We see their drive to realize their dreams in spite of an undesirable context. We watch them as football players. You’ll see it, and you’ll feel it. –Alexander Ortega
Jan. 20 // 8:30 a.m. // Prospector Square Theatre
Jan. 20 // 6 p.m. // Sundance Mountain Resort Screening Room
Jan. 23 // 9 p.m. // Salt Lake City Library Theatre
Jan. 25 // 10 p.m. // Redstone Cinema 2
Jan. 27 // 3 p.m. // Temple Theatre
Photo: Talyn Sherer
Chubby’s Mexican Restaurant
955 N. 1400 W.
Salt Lake City, Utah 84116
Mon–Sat: 10 a.m.–10 p.m.
Sunday: 10 a.m.–9 p.m.
When I first put down roots in Rose Park, I was immediately impressed by its diversity and the overall sense of community within these few square city blocks. Being cut off from the rest of the city by golf courses, freeways and train yards, this tight-knit space feels much more like a small town than a neighborhood. And with this small-town vibe comes old family rivalries, innumerable traditions and a shared history that continues to bring people together. At the crossroads of this regional diversity and civic kinship, you will find a crown jewel of the River District restaurant scene: Chubby’s Mexican Restaurant.
Chubby’s has been around for as long as anyone in the area can remember—supporting little league baseball, throwing parking lot parties for Cinco de Mayo and providing quality and consistently good Mexican comfort food for a reasonable price. It is as much a neighborhood staple as the Jordan River, yet it remains tucked away in Rose Park, hidden from those not willing to go north of North Temple for Mexican food.
During a recent trip, I ordered the Chubby Changa Platter ($7.99), a crispy chimichanga burrito filled with your choice of ground beef, chicken or shredded beef, and served with mild savory Spanish rice and refried beans. For an extra buck, you can get it stuffed with grilled steak, and for an extra $2, they’ll even smother the whole thing with a chile verde sauce and cheese. I usually opt for the shredded beef option, and I never regret it. The beef is tender and flavorful, and the addition of sour cream and guacamole cuts the richness of the fried burrito and adds a bit of mellow creaminess to the platter.
The times that I’ve ventured away from the Chubby Changa Platter, I’ve usually ended up ordering from the combination menu. A favorite is Combination #5 ($5.99), a beef tamale smothered in chile verde sauce and paired with a cheese enchilada. The decadence is high with this one. The slightly spicy home-made tamale, great on its own, is much improved with the addition of the green sauce. When I order this one, I usually complete the meal with a generous side portion of rice and beans for an extra $4. Another favorite selection is Combination #7 ($6.99), the Deluxe Burrito. For this one, the burrito is stuffed with rice and beans, sour cream and guacamole, with cheese, lettuce, tomato and your choice of ground beef or shredded chicken. It is essentially an entire meal rolled up in a giant tortilla. As with other menu options, you can upgrade to shredded beef for $1 more and get it covered in chile verde sauce for an extra $2. This is my favorite meal when I’m in the mood for chicken, and the portion size is so generous that I often find myself struggling to finish it.
In addition to these lunch and dinner options, the restaurant also has an entire breakfast menu and a seafood section. I’ve never ordered any of their breakfast selections, but the word on the street is that the Huevos Rancheros ($7.25) is both great-tasting and an incredible cure for a late morning hangover. The seafood menu leans heavily toward shrimp—both fried and grilled—so during my latest visit, I ordered the Shrimp Fajita Platter ($13.50). The spicy shrimp came mixed in a sizzling skillet with grilled onions and peppers. It was served with a separate plateful of rice, beans and several homemade tortillas (corn or flour, your choice). The succulent shrimp was tender and flavorful, and the ratio of meat to vegetables was close to perfect. Fajitas often seem too greasy to me, but these were a welcome exception. Still, in order to add a little bit of freshness to the meal, I added a side of avocado slices for an extra $2.50. This was a good move. I recommend this one to anyone wanting a twist on classic beef or chicken fajitas.
As you use a tortilla chip to scrape those final few grains of rice from your plate, be sure to save room for dessert. For those in a rush to leave, they offer various flavors of ice cream served in a cone. A single scoop will run you $1.25, and a double goes for $1.50. For those wanting to tarry a little longer in the often cramped restaurant, you can get a scoop of fried ice cream, topped with whipped cream and chocolate or caramel for $3.99. They also offer flan, and a jam- or chocolate-filled, cannoli-style dessert called Xango for $3.99 apiece.
Much as I’d love to keep Chubby’s all to myself, it is definitely worthy of your time. For us in Rose Park, it is a neighborhood treasure. The food is consistently good, and the staff is both friendly and attentive. There may be more authentic or busier Mexican restaurants in the valley, but whenever I go out in search of Mexican food, I always end up here. Whether you’re looking for call-ahead takeout or want to dine in and snack on complementary chips and salsa while you wait for your order, Chubby’s is a great source for Mexican comfort food in Salt Lake City.
Initially founded in Los Angeles in 2012, the name Suicide Lane Cycles is a not-so-subtle reference to co-founder Nik Garff’s home city. After a brief stint on the sunny West Coast, he and Davy Bartlett returned to Salt Lake City, transforming a 10-years-vacant, former automotive shop just off State Street into a stunning retail space and custom motorcycle workshop. “When we got here, it was full of old shit—old car parts and everything that this building had ever been piled up for a decade,” says Bartlett. “So we spent the better part of a year cleaning it out and building our shop. Everything in here was here already—all the wood on the walls was old shelving that was here, as well as the valve shims on our countertop. We sweated a lot, but we didn’t put a lot of money into what is here.”
Visitors to their space will find a cleanly laid-out display of products from various motorcycle brands, much of which is arranged on custom-built mounts made of old tools and hardware found packed away in the building when they inherited it. A customized Harley-Davidson Sportster rests prominently in the front window display. Hats, patches, helmets and shop manuals are stacked in shelves on their walls along with an ancient punch clock they found—just for the hell of it. It gives one the feeling that they have been there longer than a year, though they recently celebrated their one-year anniversary at their current location, where they displayed photographs by Kristin Roper in a collection entitled Mothers Who Ride, which featured two-wheeling women along with their kin. Their shop was packed with people checking out their bikes, photos and metal mask art pieces that Bartlett made.
Tucked away in the back are a dozen motorcycles lined up and—similar to form—there are neatly organized tools mounted at workbenches, which aligns with Suicide Lane’s ethos: “We don’t ever compromise the integrity or performance of a bike,” says Bartlett. “Especially as a Dad and a business owner, if I sell someone a motorcycle, it has to [be able to] stop. … We used to not ride our bikes as safely as we do now, but age, experience and having kids changes how you do everything. We aren’t afraid to go fast, but I’d rather ride my bike forever than a little bit faster.”
Seeing the work that has gone into their bikes and retail space almost makes one winded, along with merely thinking about the attention to detail and all of the blood, sweat and oil they have spilled in pursuit of excellence. “I just want to improve upon what has already happened,” says Bartlett. “I don’t want to do the same thing over and over again.” They work to order, but also love when they can get personally creative. Says Garff, “You will always get the best result by letting the craftsman do what he does best.”
Suicide Lane offers both customization as well as mechanical servicing, which means that if it has two wheels and makes loud noises, they can work on it. Although both of them are equally capable, they both tend to focus on different tasks when creating a custom bike. “Nik is definitely the fabricator; I’m definitely the wrench,” says Bartlett. Davy agrees: “We both collaborate on design,” he says. “He usually cleans the bathrooms more than me, and I put up with his dad jokes.” They acknowledge that if a customer asks for something they can’t do or someone else does a lot better, they aren’t afraid to refer them to another shop. “I think every shop has developed its own aesthetic, and I think that is really important,” says Bartlett. “I love everyone [in the motorcycle community] that I know, and all the shops that are in Salt Lake have brought their own personality to the table.”
They both feel that people shouldn’t be afraid to get into motorcycling, though they admit that it might seem daunting. “I have met so many cool people [through motorcycles],” says Garff. “People LOVE talking about their bikes. Don’t be intimidated if they’ve got a big beard and a bunch of tattoos—go up and compliment them on their bike and ask them about it. You’ll make friends, too.”