Enjoy Every Fish Fry: Haddock and Halloween at the SafeHouse

Caleb Westphal hasn’t missed a Friday fish fry since 2013. Follow his never-ending adventures—sponsored by Miller High Life—HERE. This week: fish fry #618, at the SafeHouse in Milwaukee, Wisconsin.

Two nights of sleep deprivation had left me bleary-eyed and brain fogged. I had spun 45s at The Estate until midnight the night before, having gone to bed around 1:15 after reheating some Northern Pike and American fries my parents had left me (technically a Friday fish fry?), and then woke up before sunrise with the baby. I had something like four or five hours of sleep the night before, too. It was Halloween, what felt like the ideal day of the year to go to the SafeHouse for a fish fry (779 N. Front St.; 414-271-2007). I had two of my stepsons along and had just enough time to attempt it before I had to have them home for trick or treating. The sleep deprivation was to the point that what I was about to take in—the sheer enormity of the SafeHouse—would be too much for my prefrontal cortex to fully process. But it had to happen. I was to be a spy and I had a mission to complete. Mission: Wisconsin.

Our walk from our parking spot to the red door tucked back on Front Street was punctuated by a stop at the Bronze Fonz. It was the day after Henry Winkler’s (and Fonzie’s) birthday, after all, and although I’ve lived in Milwaukee for coming on 14 years, I’ve never seen the statue up close. Similarly, this would be only my second time inside the SafeHouse. My last visit, in January 2013, was a hazy-headed affair in its own way: I took a group there at 8:30 p.m. following a 1:30 p.m. Lakefront Brewery tour and seven hour drinking binge. Someone pushed on the secret door, it swung open, a few friends ran inside, a worker started hitting a buzzer and threatened to throw them out, and more shenanigans ensued. I think we all eventually got inside for a quick beer.

Opened in 1966, originally as a private club for lawyers, the SafeHouse was soon under the full ownership of David Baldwin, who operated it for nearly a half-century until selling it to the Marcus Corporation in 2015, shortly before his passing. Today, the Cold War-era theme restaurant and bar still thrives in an era rife with new global challenges. References to James Bond and 007, spies and agents and espionage, Soviet Russia, and the Cold War abound, hanging on the walls and in the words of the staff, who take their jobs seriously and present themselves in character.

Behind the red door we were greeted by an agent who asked us to present the password before entering the restaurant. I couldn’t remember it from my last visit, and didn’t try to look it up in advance, believing it would be a fuller experience to not know it. (Although, now that I think about it, I might know what it is. But I’m not giving it away here!) After the agent prodded us a few times and I reiterated that we didn’t know it, he said he’d have to have us do something to prove we were spies and not double agents. He made us stick up bunny ears then hop forward three steps, hop backward three steps, and hop while spinning in a circle. Eventually he was satisfied and said one of us had to pull the lever on the punch clock. One of my stepsons obliged and the bookcase with a fireplace at its base swung open.

We began walking down a dark hallway and the lines between the SafeHouse and Halloween began to blur, giving my stepsons pause, but I told them we must press on. Suddenly, a door split open in front of us, and a round of applause, mainly from staff, welcomed us. Our whole initiation had been captured on closed circuit television and shown on multiple screens inside. Moments later, we were seated at a table not far from the main bar and greeted by Agent Powers, who asked if we had been there before, and again wanted to make sure we weren’t double agents.

Along with menus, we were given laminated sheets. The top of one said “Welcome, Agent! Put Your Spy Skills To The Test,” while the other, designed for kids, was titled “Recon Duty.” We were encouraged to complete these activities, but again, completing tasks that involved studying the large amount of artwork, memorabilia, and oddities in the SafeHouse wasn’t something I had the capacity to undertake at the moment. Instead, we used the sheets as an excuse to get up and explore the restaurant at our own leisure.

But there was one mission I knew I could complete, Mission: Wisconsin ($20), also known as the Furtive Fish Fry, the one fish fry on the menu. Available every day of the week, it comes with haddock, french fries, broccolini slaw, and Top Gun tartar sauce. We ordered three of them, along with a Sprecher Root Beer, a Kiddie Cocktail, and a Heineken 0.0—no martinis (shaken, not stirred) for these spies.

The fish fry arrived quicker than Bond can move across a room. Broccolini, green cabbage, red cabbage, and red onion formed the base of the slaw, and were lathered well with dressing. It was freshly whipped, and the contrasting flavors of the unmistakable components—particularly the broccolini and onion—built to a punchy peak. It was a noble effort for an often overlooked part of a fish fry.

One large piece of haddock sat on a bed of fries. The fries were cut thin, and were comparable to many fast food fries. They were flawlessly cooked, being light, and not too hard or soft. They were not salted very heavily, but went well with ketchup.

The haddock was moderately successful at keeping my attention. There was only one piece, but it spanned the width of the serving dish. It was covered with a light beer batter that had a cushiony underside that presented like a breading. The batter was like a phantom mullet, but instead of cutting it short on top and growing it long in the back, it was smooth and like a batter on top and textured and like a breading underneath. The bulk of the batter’s flavor came from the underside. The haddock itself was acceptable in composition and flavor, being an unoffending ambassador for its kind that didn’t bring out overly strong emotions. It went just fine with the zingy Top Gun tartar sauce.

I didn’t hop like a bunny expecting I’d have the greatest fish fry in the world afterwards, but I’ve also heard that the SafeHouse has terrible food, and that’s not what I found. Sure, it’s not a destination fish fry, but it is a destination—for restaurants come and go, but the SafeHouse is forever. I may not have had the brainpower to undertake other missions or complete Recon Duty, but I pushed through the one mission I knew I could accomplish. I’ve completed Mission: Wisconsin for at least 618 weeks in a row now. And really, what other mission would ever be needed? Mission: Completed.

Takeaways: Located near the Bronze Fonz; connected to the Newsroom Pub; a password must be given or one must prove they aren’t a spy in another way—such as by hopping like a bunny—in order to enter; the building is full of espionage artifacts and other oddities; punchy broccolini slaw; honkin’ piece of haddock with mullet batter; zingy tartar; we incurred a $3 exhibit fee (?) that was added to our bill.