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 #621, at Parkside Inn in Newburg, Wisconsin.
The year was 1986. Ronald Reagan was president. Tony Earl was Wisconsin’s governor. The Space Shuttle Challenger exploded. So did Chernobyl Nuclear Power Plant’s no. 4 reactor. Paul Simon released Graceland and the Beastie Boys released Licensed To Ill, while Top Gun and Stand By Me hit the big screen. Cecil Cooper, Robin Yount, and Paul Molitor were all starters for the Brew Crew, while Randy Wright was the starting quarterback for the Packers, who went 4 and 12 on the season. I was born in Fond du Lac that year, and Parkside Inn opened in Newburg (453 Main St.; 262-675-6016).
While much has changed in just shy of 40 years—I can feel this period of time on a cellular level—not everything has. For example, Parkside Inn is still open, and still looks about the same inside and out as I imagine it did when it opened. I visited this past Friday for a fish fry.
I opened the front door. The red leather, full-back bar stools lining the bar were largely full, stretching from near the front towards the back before forming a 90-degree angle for a few stools. Surveying the space, I noticed a small dining room just inside and to the left. Completely empty besides the wildlife on the Miller High Life mirrors and birds on the wooden wall paneling, it appeared stuck in time, an untouched remnant of a bygone era. The ceiling fan at its center looked like the one that was hanging in the dining room in the house I grew up in in 1986. I stood at the edge of the room, next to the sign that said to wait to be seated, and waited for someone to notice me.
After a few moments, a bartender saw me standing like a puppy behind a gate, and told me I could go in and seat myself. Standing alone inside the room, I could hear some chatter, which I first thought may be coming from the kitchen off the room. But I found a small hallway to a second, more secluded dining room with booths. I backtracked and went back to the first dining room, took a seat at one of the four tables, and again waited for someone to notice me, amongst the most wooden paneling that has ever covered a room.
It wasn’t long until someone found me and gave me a menu and I was able to see exactly what Parkside Inn offers. They have no website or social media presence, and I ended up there because the few photos I saw of the building and the fish on Yelp kindled my curiosity. So everything the menu said was new to me. At the top of the section devoted to Friday fish frys was all-you-can-eat hand breaded cod ($10.95). There also was bluegill ($13.95), lake perch ($13.95), walleye ($13.95), breaded scallops ($12.95), all-you-can-eat smelt ($10.95), mock lobster ($11.95), a combo platter with perch, cod, shrimp, and scallops ($12.95), a shrimp dinner with six jumbo shrimp ($10.95), and a “catch of the day,” which I was told was a dinner with 15 small shrimp. I ordered the all-you-can-eat cod. While the menu said it came with french fries, I was told it could be ordered with any of the potato options, which also included cottage fries, steak fries, baked potato, or German potato salad. I decided to stick with the french fries.
Waiting for my food, still alone in the room, I settled in with an NA Busch. (This Sunday marks one year without alcohol). It was the night before opening day of gun deer season, and although I didn’t see any blaze orange during my time at Parkside Inn, I did hear two groups of people talk about going hunting the next day. Even though I wasn’t Up North, I was up north from Milwaukee, and the feel of being Up North was there. Or maybe it was something similar. It was a rural feeling, the feel of a different world far away from downtown Milwaukee. This rural-ness was amplified by the wood paneling and by how intact everything felt after four decades, altogether making Parkside Inn cozy, unaffected, and unassuming.
Two plates of fish were brought to the table in front of me and then a couple made their way from the bar to them—suggesting that another way to order at Parkside Inn is similar to how many supper clubs do it: order while having a drink at the bar, and then take a seat at the table when the food arrives. There was a little more time for me to wait, but I was no longer alone. I zeroed in on the kitchen door, anticipating the fish fry coming through it until it did so.
The plate’s presentation matched the aura of the room perfectly, as if it, too, was from 1986. A half piece of dark, marbled rye had been cut in half, buttered, and sandwiched together. It was soft with a rich flavor. The slaw was light in color and flavor; it had green cabbage and some carrots, with a light coating with minimal seasoning. The french fries appeared deep fried, and were textured, almost as though they had been coated with a batter. It was this texture and the way they had been cooked, not any salt or seasoning, that gave them their character.
Two pieces of fish were on this first plate. The breading was near perfect in texture: it was thin yet had character; it broke apart easily, yet small pieces of it held together. It was slightly buttery yet mild, and altogether was reminiscent of the breading at Randy’s Neighbor’s Inn or Steak House 100, yet with a little less flavor. The cod was long and thin, and curled up in the breading. It wasn’t chunky, nor flaky white, being a bit underwhelming at points. The tartar was first-rate. It was tangy and thick to the point that if a cup of it was turned upside down, it probably would have stayed in the cup.
I was concerned that I’d be sitting for a while with an empty plate, but moments after I cleared everything, the kitchen door swung open and I was asked if I needed anything more. I requested three or four pieces of fish and another tartar, and was brought three pieces. Again I found top-notch breading, middling fish, and great tartar—all enough to keep me coming back, although I decided five pieces was enough.
I’d pay another visit to Parkside Inn, and if I did, I’d try the bluegill, perch, or combo platter. Because if the bluegill or perch is first-class—as this picture I later found of their perch suggests—this fish fry could move from being a good one to being an outstanding one.
A lot has changed since 1986. Ronald Reagan is long gone and the Space Shuttle program has since shuttered. It’s not Tony Earl, it’s Tony Evers. Randy Wright’s shoes were filled by Don “Majik Man” Majkowski, Brett Favre, Aaron Rodgers, and now, Jordan Love. But Parkside Inn in Newburg is still there, cozy, unaffected, and unassuming, looking like it hasn’t changed and serving a simple and straightforward fish fry at a stellar price.
Takeaways: Classic Wisconsin tavern ambiance untouched by time; many seafood options at great prices, including the elusive all-you-can-eat smelt; rich marbled rye; freshly fried and texturized fries; top-notch fish breading; turn-it-over-thick tartar.
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