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 #594, at St. Francis Brewery in St. Francis, Wisconsin.
“Is this the most popular restaurant in the whole world?” asked fellow Devils Teeth member Jeff Brueggeman, when he found the other three of us—Chuck Engel, Jon Hanusa, and myself—seated in St. Francis Brewery and gobbling up complimentary Barrel Poppers (soft pretzel bites) with beer cheese. It wasn’t much past 5:30 p.m. and the place was on the brink of capacity. Outside, the parking lot had already surrendered, with the upper overflow lot doing its best to keep up. It’s not often a difficult feat for a restaurant in Wisconsin to be filled on a Friday night, but the St. Francis Brewery building (3825 S. Kinnickinnic Ave.; 414-559-6825) is no dozen-table operation. No, it covers 7,200 square feet.
This new iteration of the St. Francis Brewery, with Shallece Saleen and Dheren Stewart at the helm, opened just over a month ago, on Milwaukee Day, exactly a week before the pope with the same name died. The original St. Francis Brewery was in operation from April 2009 to October 2019. During that time I twice had their fish fry, on November 14, 2014, and March 27, 2015, my 29th birthday. It’s striking just how little has changed inside since, and at times I felt I had been transported back a decade, to a time before my youth had slipped away. Even the pint glasses brought back memories, being the ones used at the Humboldt Park Beer Garden from 2014 through 2018, when St. Francis Brewery provided the beer.
Given how packed it was, I was surprised that we didn’t have to wait for a table, especially since it is such a new restaurant. Being that everything seemed to be moving smoothly, it was apparent that the management had done a decent job hiring enough quality staff to make sure they could keep up with the onslaught of diners.
“You already tried ’em! Want more?” reads the menu’s description for Barrel Poppers, with a $9 price listing, signaling that they are given to everyone as a starter and that additional helpings are available for purchase. Chuck asked for more, but there was no discussion between him and the server about if this was an official order or an ask for more complimentary ones. Perhaps it was because Jeff had just arrived, but we got the second round on the house too, albeit it being a smaller amount than what we saw someone else receive when they made a regular order.
With there only being one fish fry on the menu, which is listed as “12 oz of crispy beer battered cod, fried to perfection and served with house-made cole-slaw, homemade tartar sauce, a rye roll, and your choice of fries or potato pancakes” ($21), there wasn’t much else to ruminate over on the menu. Although, Chuck did point out that the fish fry was the fourth priciest item on the menu, after the ribeye, New York strip, and beer braised beef. Although not overly expensive, it was unusual to see the fish fry—often one of the cheaper items on a menu—hitting towards the top. I ordered the cod with potato pancakes, as well as a bowl of clam “chowdaaa,” which can be added to a fish fry for $4. (It’s $6 if ordered without the fish fry.)
As we waited for our food, the acoustic sounds of Mattea Joy played behind our band dudes chatter. There was “Listen To The Music” by the Doobie Brothers and “Have You Ever Seen The Rain?” by CCR. Then there was a song I didn’t recognize. Chuck started singing along with gusto and told me it was by Chappell Roan. I was in an ebullient mood. We were going to be having band practice after our fish fry, which was going to be the first time the band had ever practiced on a Friday in its nine years of existence. There’s not a whole lot that tops a fish fry followed by rock & roll—as long as just enough time is left between the two for at least some digestion.
The add-on chowder arrived just in time to quell some of my rising Friday antsiness. It was some of the most unique chowder I’ve had in regards to texture, being thickened up with what seemed to be pureed potatoes. Looking beyond the texture, it was filled with a fair amount of meat, not only clams, but with small pieces of bacon. Sliced green onions topped it and added a fresh crunch. Jon asked me what letter grade I’d give it and I said a B or B-.
Three identical fish frys and a Caesar salad (I’m not judging you, Jeff Brueggeman) showed up and we launched into the ode to Friday. I usually rip through rye bread quickly before getting to the rest of the meal, but this rye roll halted me with its size and density. Warm, with a robust rye and caraway flavor, it took a lot to get through, so I had to keep returning to it throughout the meal. Ultimately it proved to be a harbinger of the heftiness of the cod. Over on the other side of the plate, the slaw couldn’t match the roll’s imposing presence, and was rather commonplace, yet accepted just the same.
The line between potato pancakes and hash browns is often nebulous, perhaps none more so than here. These potato pancakes were stringy and barely kept a form, being all but devoid of a binding agent like flour or meal. They felt just as close to hash browns, if not closer to them. That’s not to say they were unredeemable. Definitions alone don’t indicate quality, especially when it comes to potatoes, and no matter what they were, they at least were still seasoned adequately and went well with the rest of the plate.
The three pieces of cod were big, doubly so because of the batter, which was thick and akin to a breading. It was well-salted with some additional seasoning, but the beer flavor in it was mild, coming nowhere near the prominence of that in the cheese that went with the pretzel bites. The batter covered the cod so well that it kept it piping hot until after I cut into each piece, long after it had arrived in front of me. The cod itself was where it needed to be in terms of texture and flavor, without having anything particularly noteworthy about it. While the batter was thick, the tartar was thin, a soupy, salty, mayo-based sauce with a low relish count.
In the end, the three of us that ordered the fish fry had a slightly different perspective on it. Jon and Chuck seemed to give the fish marginally higher marks than me, but we all agreed it was fine overall, and also that the portion size was adequate, with it providing more than enough food. Sure, the pancakes and tartar could use some refinement, with maybe a tweak here or there elsewhere, but I’m not complaining. Imperfections are good in rock & roll, and they might just be good in fish frys, too. And if you can get them both on a Friday, that’s perfection in its own right.
Takeaways: Complimentary Barrel Poppers for a round (or two); fish fry price may seem steep, but it really isn’t when taking quantity into account; restaurant running smoothly for how packed it was and how new it is; uniquely textured chowder; high density rye roll; is it a potato pancake or is it a hash brown?; hefty cod with thick batter and thin tartar.
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