whimsically entitled this is the plate—an homage to Brigham Young's apocryphal words, “this is the place,” when he first saw the desert valley that would eventually become the state of Utah—this volume offers something for everyone. Editors Carol A. Edison, Eric A. Eliason, and Lynne S. McNeill have provided a well-integrated selection of essays, vignettes, and recipes (fifty-seven!) that showcase the historical, cultural, and religious foodways of Utah. McNeill's introduction, “Eat, Drink, and Be Merry, for Tomorrow You May Be in Utah,” sets the stage for an enjoyable romp through Utahn history, presenting the reader with a wide variety of voices—academics, journalists, food writers, chefs, and farmers.This is the Plate is organized in five parts: “Official Foods/Icons,” “Heritage,” “Latter-Day Saint Influence,” “Local Specialties,” and “Foodways Today.” Part 1 name checks the expected food products such as green Jell-O, fry sauce, and funeral potatoes (all three given their own chapters), and also introduces topics unexpected and under-examined. Michael P. Christensen's chapter on Utah's “fry sauce” (essentially a ketchup and mayo combo) digs into the condiment's storied history, its nostalgic (and commercial appeal) throughout Utah, as well as the additional ingredients that individual home cooks add to the sauce—seen as adulterations by fry sauce purists. It is this ubiquitous fry sauce that graces one of Utah's other most popular dishes (and the subject of its own essay): it might surprise non-Utahn readers to learn that this dish is a pastrami burger. The Crown Burger, popularized by one of Utah's many Greek restaurateurs, features a charbroiled hamburger patty, American cheese, lettuce, tomato, and a mound of pastrami any Jewish deli would be proud to display. Smothered in fry sauce and served on a sesame-seed bun, it is—as the chapter's author Ted McDonough suggests—“perhaps the first request of returned LDS missionaries” (69).An interesting addition to part 1 is McNeill's “No Happy Hour for Happy Valley: The Push and Pull of Alcohol in the Beehive State.” McNeill offers a historical corrective to the common misperception that Utah is essentially dry. Noting the state's first breweries, mainly established by German immigrants, McNeill also reveals the LDS Church's involvement in both beer and whiskey production. Until federal prohibition, Mormons were on both sides of the (legislative) temperance movement, with one LDS Church president notably arguing that “Utah must not become a dry state, as the goal was not to create a theocracy” (19). An examination of contemporary drinking culture in Utah offers insight into not only the quirky laws related to ordering alcohol, but the ways that non-Mormons perceive their teetotaling neighbors and vice versa.Part 2 takes a broad sweep at “heritage” as it is understood by the diverse citizenry of Utah, including (and possibly overemphasizing) the immigrant population of the state. The section starts with a chapter framing White settlers as immigrants, disrupting Indigenous ways of plant cultivation as well as traditional food systems. Danille Elise Christensen writes thoughtfully of White colonialist attitudes toward agriculture and their paternalistic view of “making the desert bloom” in the New World. Patty Timbimboo-Madsen also offers a brief description of Native American foodways, and yet another piece takes on “Navajo Mutton Stew.” Brock Cheney's “Lumpy Dick and Finnan Haddie: Food in Early Mormon Utah” offers a thorough examination of early Mormon foodways, marked by both migration and poverty. This section gives much space to European immigrants, specifically Italian, and Greek, but also includes the diverse demographics of Spanish-speaking Utahns. In another notable vignette, Jean Tokuda Irwin addresses a Japanese American church community's luncheons. Part 2 also concerns itself with “heritage” methods of food procurement, notably hunting, foraging, and gardening. This section is the most oddly organized of the five parts, but I am not sure if there is a better way to bring these varied subjects together.Part 3, entitled “Latter-Day Saint Influences,” addresses just what you would imagine it would. While the first two sections cannot escape Mormon cultural influence, this section takes it on directly. A glimpse of some of the foods and food practices addressed in this section may strike a non-Utahn reader as not specific to Utah or Latter-day Saints (many non-Mormon families have a tradition of Sunday dinner, for example). However, the authors in this section provide the Latter-day Saints’ cultural context within which to situate Latter-day Saint Sunday dinners, as well as subjects like “Candy” or “Ice Cream.” Of course, other pieces in this section deal with practices and products that come directly from the Latter-day Saint religious context (even though they may be enjoyed or sustained by non-Mormons). The sections on Postum and Apple Beer, for example, delve into the cultural history of these beverage substitutes for coffee and beer, respectively. (Postum, notably, was created in Michigan but made popular among Mormons in Utah.) In his introduction to this section, Eric A. Eliason notes, “Food traditions often persist with those for whom the torch of faith has gone out or has transformed, or whose ancestors did not pass it on” (218).While canning food has enjoyed a resurgence over the last two decades, the sort of “prepping” practiced by members of the LDS Church has also developed in other subcultures—in some cases boosted by the COVID-19 global pandemic. It is no longer a hypothetical that American grocery store shelves may become bare or that one may be quarantined in place for some time. Randy Williams, in “Mormon Food Storage: A Performance of Worldview,” delves into the history and practices of the Latter-day Saint food storage program. This long-standing practice comes from earlier Latter-day Saint teachings that each household should have enough food and clothing on hand (and possibly fuel) for a year, but also from the history of self-sufficiency practiced in early Latter-day Saint settlements. Growing and storing food were necessary for the Saints’ survival. But as Williams notes, “The belief in and practice of food storage conceptualizes [the Latter-day Saint] millennial worldview” (221). This preparation is not merely for the day-to-day necessities of civilization but is also meant to prepare for the upheavals expected prior to Christ's Second Coming (a period expected to include war, natural disasters, and illness). Williams writes that “not only does [food storage] meld the physical and mental acts of keeping a commandment, but it continues a folk tradition handed down over time and space by family and friends” (229). This chapter examines the way that this practice seeps into multiple areas of LDS Church members’ lives: what to store, where to store it, how to responsibly use it—all these subjects have found space in shared Pinterest boards and food-storage narratives.Several entries surprised and delighted me, particularly Kathryn MacKay's brief piece on a prominent Utahn home economics educator and activist, Leah Widstoe. Much has been written about the religious motivations of women in early domestic science, but Widstoe (and Latter-day Saints) do not usually figure prominently in this scholarship. Ronda Walker Weaver's “Compassionate Service Casserole: Identity Performance in the Lives of Mormon Women” refers not to a literal casserole or foodstuff but to the Latter-day Saint impulse for service. As one woman quoted explains, “When I went to their home with my humble offering, I realized that my visit offered a small bit of consolation—the rolls were not necessary, but they had given me a reason to visit” (244). While the sorts of food provided in times of mourning or crisis may change over time, the obligation for outreach does not.Part 4 offers brief glimpses of local specialties, some farmed, some preserved, and some prepared (such as Cula Ekker's Sunglow Café Sweet Pickle Pie, recipe provided—you be the judge). Carol Edison's essay on agricultural festivals highlights the varieties of prized rural crops throughout Utah, as well as the meaning that these festivals have for their participants. Part 5 addresses contemporary foodways but, in doing so, demonstrates the staying power of Utah's heritage food practices, as in Rhonda Walker Weaver's “Old-Time Cooking.” The last piece, entitled “Refugee Foodways: Nourishing a Sense of Place,” suggests a desire on the part of the editors to emphasize diversity within Utah, as well as the justice that can be performed by sharing food. As author Adrienne Cachelin writes, “Maintaining foodways, even those shaped by displacement and colonization, is a basic element of justice, one that nourishes the placemaking that is so essential for revitalizing our communities and ourselves” (369).The audience for this edited volume strikes me as broad. Folklorists, scholars of food studies, folks from Utah, as well as Mormons (and those who study them) will all find something to munch on here. For scholars of Mormonism, part 3 (“Latter-Day Saint Influence”) is the most overtly relevant, but throughout the volume there are little gems on Latter-day Saint identity. In Christensen's fry sauce chapter, he discusses a cultural divide over fry sauce. If fry sauce is Utahn, and Utah is seen as Mormon, then “‘I don't want to be associated with Mormons,’” disclosed one of his interviewees (43).Free of jargon, the book can engage both a casual reader and a serious scholar. If anything, the essays suffer a bit from overlapping material from section to section. This redundancy, however, may make the outsider appreciate the prevalence and popularity of some of these topics. Overall, this edited volume is a delight.