My favorite dishes I ate around Utah in 2025

If my last post (160+ new restaurants that opened in 2025) was a little extreme in the wordcount, here’s a simpler listing of bites, aimed as inspiration for your new year dining. In no particular order, these were my favorite individual dishes I enjoyed during the year that was.

Zhu Ting Ji

Spicy boiled fish (pictured top)

This dish from Zhu Ting Ji is a prep that makes a mockery of the adage, less is more. Of course, it’s not. More is most definitely, well, more. More garlic, more numbing Sichuan peppercorn, more garlic, more chili, and as much doubanjiang as you can muster; the fire engine red paste that’s the nucleus of many a Sichuan dish. Made from koji fermented fava beans, it delivers heat and umami depth. A first bite delivers a mouth-coating, slick, glossy coating – this from the final steps of preparation – a scald of hot oil ladled to enliven those chiles and peppercorns.

The brilliance of the dish is the nuanced balance of those heavy-hitting ingredients, each more than capable of dominating proceedings left unchecked. Too much peppercorn, the dish can slide into the metallic, too few chilis, and the broth bores. Zhu Ting’s is handily the best blend I’ve tasted in Utah since the dearly departed Chef Gao was at his galvanizing best (if you know, you know).

The dish is served in a large tureen, plenty enough for two or three to share. Be sure to order rice bowls on the side (ours did not come with rice as standard). From there, spoon on the gloriously arresting broth, studded with white fish.

Pho 777

Banh Mi Thit Nưong

A steal at $12.99, coming on a hefty 12″ baguette, slightly crisp, and plenty chewy. It’s a rewardingly fun textural thing to wrangle, begging for one more monster bite. Try as I might, I’ve yet to manage my attempt at saving half for later. The contents are simple. A generous amount of thinly sliced, grilled pork is the centerpiece. It’s a leaner cut, lacquered with a hoi-sin-esque glaze. Pickled veg and jalapeno add some zip and crunch.

Kin Sen Thai

Kao Mok Kai

The magic of the composition here is borne of the dish baking, chicken atop rice. A chicken leg quarter, resplendent in golden-yellow turmeric, crowns a pile of Jasmine rice tinged with a savory garlic blast. Fatty richness from the chicken courses down through the grain for a finish that delivers a slightly caramelized bite to the rice. Heavenly.

A flutter of fried shallots provides some sweet balance; on the side, an incendiary sauce with just the right side of powerful fish sauce. After an inordinate amount of time oohing (and pontificating to my long-suffering wife, “Hey can we eat now?”) I spent the next thirty minutes rifling through websites on how to replicate this at home.

Cosmica

Pizza

The concise pizza list is the best place to start at Cosmica. Smaller pies, crafted in the Neapolitan style, which is to say baked quickly and furiously – leading to that unmistakable exterior ridge, blackened and bubbled. The menu was till in flux when I first visited, where I enjoyed an herbaceously-spiked clam pie, replete with garlic, white wine, and lemon. Simple. Perfect. I’m far too long in the tooth to suggest who might have the best pie in town, there lies madness, and a flurry of angry comments. What I will say, this is very good pizza indeed.

The pie was ultimately replaced with a Cantabrian anchovy effort, prompting me to quiz the team on the fluidity of the menu. For those technical geeks out there, you might enjoy knowing that the pies in question rely on a dough that begins life with flour from Utah’s own Central Milling – a 150-year-old Utah company that’s tapped by chefs countrywide as top tier. From there, an ambient yeast starter (which first bubbled to life a few months back at Cosmica) is deployed to power a four-day fermentation process. The last step is a brief four or five-minute visit to the gas-assisted Woodstone oven, which is also retooled across the menu when appropriate – finishing off the chicken cacciatore, for example.

Felt Bar & Eatery

Lobster ravioli

I could pick from a half dozen dishes at Felt this year, such is the top-tier execution and creativity from chef Travis Herbet and his team (ok, here’s an extra shout-out to chef Barrera’s Summer mole special). It seemed like every other weekend, a new dish was prompting us to query, “Will this become permanent?”

Ultimately, the pictured ravioli was the year’s show stealer, a dish that seemed incongruous on paper, yet beguiled on the porcelain. Lobster ravioli comes bathed in a Thai green curry that in turn taps Hatch green chiles to power the gravy’s sultry heat. Pickled Fresnos add some more bite and contrasting sharpness.

After taking a moment to reboot following that devastating fire on Main in August (Felt was largely unscathed but had to destroy 100% of their inventory), the business is now happily back to full speed. That’s good news for us all.

Rouser

Whole trout

The dish caught my eye almost immediately at Rouser – locally sourced trout from Whistling Springs Farms. I’ve spied trout from all over the U.S. and indeed Europe on Utah menus, so hook, line, and sinker for this guy.

The chef-focused farm in Brigham City produces a catch that’s raised in mountain spring water and free from growth hormones and antibiotics. The trout typically arrives on the chef’s chopping block the same day it was caught. At Rouser, the team does little more than let their signature charcoal-powered oven work its embering magic.

The fish is cooked whole, nose to tail, presented simply with a little acidic boost from a tomato chow chow. Once plated, the trout is scored vertically, back to belly. Simply take your fork and work the meat from top to bottom – the beautiful pink flesh effortlessly slides from the bone. Should you proceed meticulously through your meal, you’ll finish up with a cartoon-esque skeletal remains.

Kenny J’s BBQ

BBQ

There’s bags of promise for BBQ fans at this South Jordan spot that emerged in 2025. Co-owner Kenny Jackson utilizes product from Utah’s UT47 beef (the same brand that Table X taps) while cooking low and slow on an M&M Rotisserie; serious Texan hardware that can cost tens of thousands of dollars. The smoker’s figure cost suggests the business is more than just a whim. Jackson himself, meanwhile, routinely hits the road to secure post oak for the cooking process – the tried and tested hardwood relied on by many of the best in the Lonestar.

First impressions inside the substantial restaurant space – which looks to have seating for half the town by my estimation – are strong. Note: My estimation skills are quite poor. The air is laquered with lustrous smoke, sweetly tinging everything it touches. I’ve pitched up at more than one Utah BBQ shop that lacks even the faintest whiff of smoke or rendering.

The restaurant follows the traditional counter service approach, with meats priced by the pound, and heaving platters assembled as you walk down the line selecting this and that. Meats are mercifully sliced and weighed in situ, with nary a holding pan in sight. The service style allows you to translate the nebulous concept of a third of a pound of pulled pork into objective reality. Go on, make it a half pound then. Tray assembled and paid, guests seat themselves and bus their own tables. I should note that Kenny J’s does have a beer license, and should you opt to imbibe, your drink will be bused to your table separately.

The meats I sampled on an inaugural visit ranged from good to very good – brisket, sausage, and turkey. The brisket is a highlight and passes the flop test (my rigorous scientific approach) admirably. Balancing a slice (friends don’t let friends chop brisket, remember) over a plastic fork, how does the beef relax? Mediocre brisket sternly rests atop the fork, rigidly stiff as a two-by-four. The best of the best sprawl luxuriously over either side of the utensil, gravity teasing apart the beef and fat, but crucially, managing to just about hold together. Credit also to a well-trained staff who enquire as to whether we’d like cuts from the flat (leaner meat) or point. Hint: the pointy bit of the beef is where all the fun stuff, like fat and connective tissue, lives. Go team point.

Bambara

Trout with beurre monte

The backbone of chef J.V. Hernandez’s Summer menu (see below) was driven by French technique and smart sourcing; local cheese, Utah-sourced proteins, and produce all make appearances. A great example was the Whistling Springs Trout, tapped here for a conversation-stopping composition.

The flawlessly cooked fish (all crisped skin and coral-pink flesh) is sauced with a luxurious beurre monté, a fancy French technique that enables the emulsification of an improbable amount of butter. Pops of roe pierce the richness with salty brine. Foraged mushrooms and a drizzle of herb oil complete the graceful picture. Four core ingredients handled with deft craftsmanship.

Sadly, Hernandez moved on to pastures new during 2025. You’ll need a plane ticket to Texas to sample his efforts in 2026.

Monte

One of the most intriguing newcomers this year, the unabashedly contemporary fine-dining outing from chef Martin Babio. Monte’s menu offers a set tasting menu nightly, doing so with flourishes of tableside theatre. As is par for the course with these types of menus, concise descriptions belie meticulous complexity.

A modestly titled “ravioli, lemongrass sauce” course begins three days before the bowl hits the table. Chicken is aged with koji to enhance the natural umami. From there, it’s delicately confit’ed in a blend of clarified butter (made in-house, of course), orange zest, and fresh herbs. The result of that low and slow cooking makes for the filling for house-made dough. A trio of ravioli is served in a sauce that’s made from roasted chicken bones, lemongrass, lime leaf, and ginger. A flurry of assertively contrasting greens and herbs is tumbled on top. For the “but we can cook at home” crowd, I guarantee you’re never making this.

Salt Egg City

SEC burger

This is the SEC burger. Not one of my finest pictures, and no, presumably not named for the Securities and Exchange Commission. The image, however, does illustrate the seductive cornerstone of this burger, which is happily in SLC’s top five. Just don’t make me pick a favorite child, guys.

As aptly lyrically waxed by Ryan in this article from a couple of years back, these guys know what to do with an egg. In the SEC burger, it’s that ethereal mix of seared crisp edges and runny yolk. A guaranteed mess for sure, but worth every napkin. The kitchen also knows what to do with a salt shaker, too – a note to others – sodium and beef are really, really good friends. Let them hang out.

Brasserie 7452

Trout almandine

This dish at 7452 (a nod to the restaurant’s elevation in case you wondered) begins with a velvety base of pomme puree, mashed potatoes made luxuriously resplendent with “don’t ask, you don’t want to know” levels of butter. Go ahead and whip out that ricer from the cabinet where it’s lived untouched for the past 24 months; then spend an hour flinging fluffed spud at walls, cabinets, and floors. Finally, realize that even this simple component is best left to the experts.

On top of the puree, a perfect filet of trout, skin crisped to a crackling bronzed finish, faces upwards. Contrasting crisp green beans come next, as do slivers of almonds, parsley, and capers – bringing salty brightness. The pièce de résistance is yet more decadence in the form of lemon-spiked brown butter, a slightly nutty sauce that lovingly wraps around the composition. It’s equal parts bright Summery lightness and Fall signalling heartiness. Enjoy it outside on the restaurant’s patio while gazing at those mountains. I probably have a half dozen times this year.

Bonus points: no finding errant potato on the ceiling the next day.

Beijing Restaurant

Mapo tofu

Mala. It’s the heart of Sichuan cooking, the intoxicating nucleus of the famed cuisine. There’s no better way to appreciate it than through a bowl of mapo tofu, and in my opinion, Beijing Restaurant in Sugar House is rendering the dish as good as anyone else right now. Probably better. Hidden on the menu under the moniker of Tofu in House Special Spicy Sauce.

Mala is the distinctive flavor profile created by combining the numbing superconductivity of Sichuan peppercorns (ma) with the fiery heat of red chilis (la). On the surface, it’s an electrifying experience that seemingly thumbs its nose at moderation. In truth, the best executed plates showcase a deft balance with each element tempering another. Mapo tofu leaves your mouth and tongue a sizzling, scorched, galvanized landscape.

Another critical component in mapo’s electrifying mala mix is spicy bean paste, aka doubanjiang. A fire engine red paste that’s predominantly assembled from fava beans, chilis, and soy beans. The multi-year fermentation process is worth a quick Google deep-dive. The paste adds deep complexity to any dish it’s deployed in support of. Ginger, garlic, and green onion add further umami and depth, before the dish reveals another trick up its sleeve – textural contrast.

The bewitching sauce is primarily loaded with cubed with silken tofu. You’re probably familiar with the firmer firm varieties of soybean curd – but the custard-smooth silken version is a whole other ball game. It’s used in mapo tofu alongside a more modest crumbling of ground pork. The contrast of velvety tofu with meaty pork chew is a signature of mapo tofu, it’s enthralling stuff.

Shwe Letyar Sushi

Fermented tea salad

Shwe is the work of chef and owner Jadim Lahpa, who initially got her start through the Spice Kitchen Incubator program three years ago. The move to Woodbine earlier in the year saw her transition from one of Spice Kitchen’s shared kitchen facilities. To the best of my knowledge, the restaurant is utterly unique in the state; Boise, ID, and Aurora, CO are the next closest stops for the faintest hint of Burmese flavor.

On the menu, a handful of Burmese staples can be found amongst a lineup of simple maki rolls and nigiri. A fermented tea salad (Laphet Thoke) was the only dish I sampled on an inaugural visit, but I was stunned by what I’ve apparently been missing out on. Mea culpa.

The dish is quite unlike anything I’ve tasted before. I had to go digging around (here and here) to understand how the complex flavor mix is achieved. It’s an elaborate maelstrom that was best described by a dining companion as “more funky than blue cheese”.

That umami funk comes from the process described in the links above, a fermentation of tea leaves, presumably for quite some time. From there, the dish branches out in all directions. There’s an olive-like brininess that’s quickly supplanted by sharp heat from Thai chiles. A forceful saltiness and plenty of mellow garlic make a side plate of rice a must to soften the intensity of each bite.

The whole tumble comprises fried soy bean, peanuts, green tomato, bird’s eye chiles, dried shrimp, cabbage, sesame seeds – and likely more than I am missing – each adding layers of complexity and texture.

The Pearl

Blue Mussels with toast

As I gaze back on my list, it seems I’ve spent the year obsessed with Southeast Asian cooking, with a dollop of French flair. So here’s one more in a similar vein – a mesmerizing Southeast Asian reworking of a classic French prep.

The advertised dashi beurre monte sauce is on the thinner edge of the spectrum and is an umami delight. Dreading jury selection in the morning? The sauce packs enough garlic oomph to ensure you’ll be dismissed within minutes of arrival. The gravy offers similar utility for overly long work meetings with Bob, doorstep sellers, and encounters with dentists.

Also in the mix – plenty of funky fish sauce, chili, garlic, and butter. A half dozen or so medium-sized mussels luxuriate in the broth alongside slices of Chinese sausage, delivering hoi-sin sweetness as well as a flash of liquorice-like snappiness. Chives are a final flourish, and then we’re off to the races, which for me means, well, ending up covered in the stuff.

I’ll spare you the overworked tropes of needing to bathe in the stuff, but let’s just all agree, there’s never enough bread in this situation. I could have brought a bag of Grandma Sycamore under my arm with me. A sort of emotional support loaf (actually, that’s a good idea) if you will, and still feel the need to timidly squeak, “more bread, please, sir”. The Pearl’s concession to this self-evident truth is a comfortingly broad spoon. I guarantee every bowl returns to the kitchen scraped sufficiently clean to render a dishwasher redundant.

This particular dish rotated off the menu with a Winter update at the end of November, but don’t let that stop you; chef Tommy Nguyen’s cooking is some of the best in the city. If you’ve still not been, make it a highlight for 2026.

. . .

And that’s me done for the year, folks. Let me know your own favorite dishes from 2026 in the comments below. Like a few of you, I’m already scribbling down names I need to hit up and see what’s cooking. Who? Ok: Momomaru, Burger Fusion, SLC Neighbors, Yeti Bar, Halalpenos, just a few already.

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Stuart Melling

Hi, I’m Stuart, nice to meet you!  I’m the founder, writer and wrangler at Gastronomic SLC.  I’m a multiple-award winning journalist and have written in myopic detail about the Salt Lake City  dining scene for the better part of seventeen years.

I’ve worked extensively with multiple local publications from Visit Salt Lake to Salt Lake Magazine, not least helped to consult on national TV.   Pause those credits, yep, that’s me! I’m also a former restaurant critic of more than five years, working for the Salt Lake Tribune.    I’m largely fueled by a critical obsession with rice, alliteration and the use of big words I don’t understand.   What they’re saying about me: “Not inaccurate”, “I thought he was older”, “I don’t share his feelings”.

Want to know more? This is why I am the way I am.