Bottoms up to Salt Lake City

You already know about this place, so there's not much to say, really. Center of the Mormon universe. Conservative living. Wacky alcohol laws. A buzz saw on your fun.

Not so fast.

"It's a conservative place, but less conservative if you want it to be," said Sarah Roderick, 35, a Mormon stockbroker and mother of three. "I don't drink -- I used to -- but I can go to dinner with people who do, and everyone has a good time."

You think Salt Lake's party boys disagree? They don't. Especially not since the state dumped a law last year requiring "membership" to drink in a bar -- usually $4 for a temporary license, $20 for an annual.

"You have no idea how big a deal it was when we got rid of that," said Jeff Buist, 34, as we sipped beer at Red Rock Brewing Co. (yes, they even make beer in Salt Lake City). "Bar-hopping is in vogue now."

I didn't quite hop bars, but on a Friday night I did hit two microbreweries where the healthy mountain youth celebrated the end of their workweek. While I was chatting with some of them, a guy asked with a grin if I wanted to smoke with him and his buddies. And he didn't mean cigarettes. So there's Salt Lake City 2010 for you.

By the end of the evening I was scoffing at my father's oft-told story of 30 years ago, when my mother's sleeveless arms generated ghastly looks on Salt Lake's streets. Today's Salt Lake City is home to a growing counterculture (spurred no doubt by being home to the state's largest university), an ever-expanding food scene, and until recently, Rocky Anderson, a pro-gay, pro-affirmative action, anti-tobacco mayor who bashed the state's liquor laws every chance he had.

The intersections people rave about -- 3rd and 3rd, 9th and 9th -- are still inching their way toward major-league status, but they have their moments. Pago, at 9th and 9th, boasts rare Spanish wines and a local-centric menu that included memorably succulent lamb ravioli the night I showed up. As in many Western towns, Salt Lake City isn't always so friendly to foot traffic, but these neighborhoods get it right amid the restaurants, the coffee shops and independent movie theaters.

Many say the city's evolution sped up when it hosted the 2002 Winter Olympics. The city was forced to literally open itself to a world of people, ideas and cultures.

"More of everything came in," said Roderick, the Mormon stockbroker. "More people, more mix, more religions, different points of view. It was good for everyone."

Wrinkles in the alcohol laws

It also made clear that the liquor laws hampered the state's ability to become a serious tourist destination. Banishing those laws can only help win over those -- and there are plenty of them -- who see Salt Lake City as a bump in the road on the way to the slopes. Let an expert explain the old days:

Strange wrinkles endure. Wine pours can't exceed 5 ounces. Bottled beer can be high in alcohol, but beer on tap still can't exceed a measly 4 percent (Utah brewers take pride in crafting tasty low-alcohol beer; my favorite was Desert Edge's Utah Pale Ale).

But these hurdles don't stop bars from opening, like the Beerhive, where the drinkers filled almost every stool at 6 p.m. on a Saturday. They also don't stop people like Salt Lake City native Jim Lund, 62, from drinking it -- a Moab Scorpion Ale on that evening.

"When I was a kid, this was a tough place to live, in part because I'm not a Mormon," said Lund, a supermarket manager. "It used to feel like we were in a time warp. But there's been an influx of people the last few years, and it has made Salt Lake City a lot more diverse."