Caleb Westphal hasn’t missed a Friday fish fry since 2013. Follow his never-ending adventures HERE. This week: fish fry #653, at the Italian American Club in Kenosha, Wisconsin.
It was the Friday of Fourth of July weekend, the day before America’s semiquincentennial, and I was at the Italian American Club in Kenosha for a fish fry (2217 52nd St.; 262-658-4881). Outside, an American flag flew above an Italian flag. Inside, in the empty ballroom, an American flag hung next to an Italian flag. Down the stairs and in the restaurant, American flags flew on the screens of the three televisions hanging along the wall between the glass brick windows.
America is the story of immigrants, of assimilation and ethnic pride, of mass culture and folk culture. It’s the story of living up to ideals and of contradicting them, of successes and failures, of moving forward and backsliding and moving forward again. It’s the story of social clubs, fraternal organizations, and mutual aid societies and their buildings, some having faded away, some having stood for a century or more. And it’s the story of food, of fast-food culture and of ethnic foods and regional cuisines, of McDonald’s and of Friday fish frys.
The Italian American Club, home to the Italian American Society of Kenosha, was built in 1926 and opened in 1927, following the society’s founding in 1923. At its start, it provided a home for the mutual aid society and safe haven for Italian immigrants. While membership today is down from its peak of between 700 and 800, the organization still thrives. The Italian American Club also has a public-facing side, with banquet hall facilities, a restaurant open Wednesday through Saturday, and catering available any day of the week, all available to the public.
I first became aware of the Italian American Club because of a funeral luncheon. Between March 2023 and February 2024 I went to three funerals and funeral luncheons on my wife’s side of the family, first at the HobNob, then at the Fireside Restaurant & Lounge, and lastly at the Italian American Club. I had only been to the HobNob before. Mostaccioli was served at all three luncheons. I had never had mostaccioli before. I grew up in Fond du lac, not Kenosha like my wife did, which seems to have made all the difference.
Since going to these three establishments, I’ve pondered and posed the question about why we only seem to go to these cool, old-school restaurants when someone dies, and only seem to eat mostaccioli at restaurants when someone passes away. These restaurants are pretty great, why are we only going to them for funeral luncheons? Why not for less somber occasions, why not on any given day? (To be fair, my wife said she’s also been to the Italian American Club for wedding receptions and baby showers, and I get the impression that everyone from Kenosha has, too.) I filed all three restaurants in my mind, and also noticed that all three serve a Friday fish fry. (The Fireside has since been damaged by a fire and hasn’t reopened.)
Others may differ in their opinion, but I was unpleasantly surprised to find the restaurant in the midst of a remodel, with it being brighter since my first visit, but with some of its old-fashioned charm removed. I shrugged it off as my wife and I were seated, and looked over a menu. We were brought a partial loaf of fresh, still-warm Italian bread along with a dish of olive oil to dip it in. The oil carried the colors of the Italian flag, with green fresh parsley, red pepper flakes, and white parmesan cheese and minced garlic.
The menu listed broiled cod ($19.95), walleye ($21.95), lake perch ($18.95), bluegill ($18.95), butterfly shrimp ($17.95), coconut shrimp with raspberry sauce ($18.95), and a Friday fish fry ($17.95), the last available only on Fridays. I inquired and learned the fish of the Friday fish fry was cod, and that actually, well, it and the rest of the fish can be ordered any day of the week, it’s just that all of them are fried in flour on the other days, not deep fried in batter like they are on Fridays. Each option comes with a choice of soup or salad, as well as a choice of side, the choices being baked potato, tater tots, waffle fries, pasta, vegetables, and potato wedges. I ordered the cod, and chose the soup since one of the options was clam chowder. I asked what kind of pasta was available as a side. “Spaghetti, mostaccioli…” my server responded, seeming to imply these should be obvious, and maybe there were even more possibilities. But mostaccioli was all I needed.
There was a bit of a wait to get our order in, but my wife’s salad and my chowder came out almost immediately after we ordered. The chowder had the world’s biggest potato chunks, with one even protruding from the surface. There were a half dozen or so of them, seemingly forming a whole potato, and becoming the most conspicuous component of the chowder. Fresh parsley made a second appearance, being mixed throughout. Clams were there, but were few and far between, or at least were overshadowed by the potatoes. It had a soupy but smooth consistency, which contrasted significantly with the weight of the potatoes. From week to week chowders are more or less similar, but this one felt further from the norm than most, in a way that was captivating.
By the time the chowder arrived, the first loaf of bread had been long gone, and our server asked us if we wanted another. Someone brought us one and we ate it in about the time it takes to listen to one track on the Minutemen’s masterpiece album Double Nickels On The Dime, released on July 3, 1984, exactly 42 years prior to the eating of the bread. “Did she bring you bread?” our server asked when they returned moments later, with a look of surprise after learning that yes, someone had, and we had eaten it all already.
In about 15 minutes more time the fish fry arrived. Celery seeds stood forth in the coleslaw, giving it a spark of flavor. It was an evenly coated and crunchy slaw, with green and red cabbage and carrot. A mound of mostaccioli noodles were buried under tomato sauce. Fresh parsley on top of it made its third appearance of the night. The mostaccioli was straightforward, but worked well as a side, and there was more than enough of it, so much that I took some home for later.
Fresh parsley made its fourth and final appearance, being strewn over the fish. The cod was covered with a mild-mannered batter. It was moderately thick and held well onto the fish, and was relatively crisp in some parts but softer in others. The cod was less thick and chunky than most cod, being somewhat reminiscent of whitefish. Both the batter and cod had an uncommon quality to them, yet needed something more, meaning it was to be a make or break tartar. Many tartar components interacted with each other, igniting each other like fireworks that accidentally all go off at the same time to create something dangerously beautiful. There was pickle and dill and lemon and dressing exploding in all directions, and likely much more, but I couldn’t make them out through the brightness.
Taken as a whole, the fish fry at the Italian American Club was deeply rewarding. From warm pieces of bread and flag-colored olive oil for dipping, to potato-forward chowder, celery seed speckled slaw, and heaping mostaccioli, there are a number of elements that made this so. And while the cod was just decent, not extraordinary, it still had plenty to give, especially after the tartar collided with it. What’s more, the building is a gem, even if it is getting a facelift, and added to the overall experience.
America has now celebrated its semiquincentennial, while the centennial of the Italian American Club rapidly approaches. America is all the things I mentioned at the front end of this article and more. The Italian American Club is a place where people get married, have baby showers, gather after the death of a loved one, and have a Friday fish fry. In a nutshell, all the important milestones of a lifetime happen at the Italian American Club.
Takeaways: Warm, freshly baked Italian bread comes with the meal; olive oil that looks like the Italian flag; chowder with lots of potato and fresh parsley; a heaping side of mostaccioli; I’ve had mostaccioli at restaurants in or near Kenosha four times now but I still have trouble spelling mostaccioli; mild-mannered cod with an exploding firework of a tartar; restaurant located in an historic building of an historic organization.
Want more Caleb? Hire him for all your 100%-vinyl DJ needs and follow him on Patreon.
RELATED ARTICLES
• Enjoy Every Fish Fry main page
• Enjoy Every Fish Fry: Wisconsin fish fry reviews
• Enjoy Every Fish Fry: The best Milwaukee-area fish frys of 2025