Boulder's Hills & Hollows | Wine | Salt Lake City | Salt Lake City Weekly
We need your help.

Newspapers and media companies nationwide are closing or suffering mass layoffs since the coronavirus impacted all of us starting in March. City Weekly's entire existence is directly tied to people getting together in groups--in clubs, restaurants, and at concerts and events--which are the industries most affected by new coronavirus regulations.

Our industry is not healthy. Yet, City Weekly has continued publishing thanks to the generosity of readers like you. Utah needs independent journalism more than ever, and we're asking for your continued support of our editorial voice. We are fighting for you and all the people and businesses hardest hit by this pandemic.

You can help by making a one-time or recurring donation on, which directs you to our Galena Fund 501(c)(3) non-profit, a resource dedicated to help fund local journalism. It is never too late. It is never too little. Thank you. DONATE

Eat & Drink » Wine

Boulder's Hills & Hollows

Grocery offers natural foods, wood-fired pizza and a sense of community.


The first thing I see on the community board is an announcement that yoga will be held on Tuesday night at Susan’s house. Thursday, I am reminded, is movie night; they’re showing Run Lola Run. I’m not in Sugar House, or at the Gallivan Center. I’m in southern Utah’s town of Boulder—population 189. The community board is in front of Hills & Hollows market, and the movie will be shown on a big white sheet strung up the side of the Cliffords’ barn. 

Hills & Hollows is a little jewel of a market surrounded by slick-rock hoodoos and irrigated fields pasturing hundreds and hundreds of cows and the occasional horse. The heart of good ol’ boy ranching country is not where you’d expect to find a convenience store carrying echinacea, Annie’s Mac & Cheese, Green & Black’s organic dark chocolate ice cream and organic greens grown in the community garden—yet here it is.

Hills & Hollows wasn’t always this bastion of natural living. Before Donna and Robert Owen bought it and greened up the place, it was stacked high with old army-surplus gear, fishing rods and beef jerky. Not that there’s anything wrong with beef; in addition to veggies, the market carries completely delectable beef—locally raised and grass fed. 

I’ve come because today is Friday, and Friday means pizza night. The wood-fired stone oven smokes and blazes on the porch outside, just beginning to emit a sharp, garlicky smell. Lounged around the oven on stumps of wood and picnic tables, guitar and banjo players take a break from tuning their instruments to sip on beers. I pull out my fiddle and munch on the market’s fresh-baked bread—also from the stone oven—while more musicians arrive. Once the evening gets going, songsters from Escalante, Torrey and Teasdale will be singin’ their tipsy hearts out and stuffing themselves with locally made, veggie-topped pizza. Everyone is welcome; the oven fires up in April.

840 W. Highway 12