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 #552: Swiss Street Pub & Grille in Franklin, Wisconsin.
If you hate the taste of wine
Why do you drink it ’til you’re blind?
And if you swear that there’s no truth and who cares
How come you say it like you’re right?
Why are you scared to dream of God?
When it’s salvation that you want
You see stars that clear have been dead for years
But the idea just lives on
-Conor Oberst
Is there absolute truth, and if so, what is it? What happens to the soul after death? What are my own beliefs about truth and life after death? What informs the moral code and ethos I live by, and why is this code rife with contradictions? These are a few questions I’ve wrestled with over the past couple of decades. But the questions that came to me last Friday as I drove past Wegner’s St. Martins Inn—which recently closed and at which I last had a fish fry at and wrote about in January 2022—were more ephemeral and gastronomic: Where did all the fish fry diners who regularly frequented this popular restaurant go when it closed? Did the ones who considered this their favorite spot disperse to nearby restaurants? Are they just sitting at home in sadness? Where are they now as the building rests like an empty cicada shell?
About a block down and around the corner on West Swiss Street, I found the Swiss Street Pub & Grille (11430 W. Swiss St., Franklin; 414-377-9047). It was apparent upon entering that the one-time diners of Wegner’s St. Martins Inn hadn’t made the switch to this establishment—at least most of them hadn’t. About a dozen tables were spread throughout the dining areas, and just one of them besides mine was occupied during my time there. A long bar, running from the front of the building towards the back, had at most 10 people at it at any one point.
According to the Milwaukee Journal Sentinel article “You might see a ghost at these 7 haunted sites in the Milwaukee suburbs,” published on October 23, 2019, a girl called Molly is said to have died in a fire in the 19th century on the site where the Swiss Street Pub & Grille now stands, and she now haunts the bar. “Molly is apparently something of a prankster, throwing items off the bar counter and launching balls off the pool table when no one else is around,” the article claims.
Franklin property records show that the building that houses the Swiss Street Pub & Grille was built in 1900. Judeen Scherrer, in her book Footprints Of Franklin: A Walk Through Franklin’s Past And Present, wrote that in 1903 Ferdinand and Susan Foellings acquired the property, which held a saloon, meat market, a large shed for boarding horses, an ice house, and a rooming house. After Ferdinand died in 1911, Susan kept the business going. Eventually, her daughter Mary took over operations, and after Susan died in 1947, the business was sold out of the family. Swiss Street Pub & Grille has been in the saloon building since 2014. Before that the building was home to Auntie’s Bar & Grill, and prior to that it was the Wild Breed Saloon, among other establishments.
The sound of the bar bubbled into the main dining area where I was seated, but the tones were soft and muffled, being broken up by the partial wall between us. A pool table sat in the front room, I was beyond it in the dining area, and the far back corner appeared to be a gambling den. A beer sign here and a picture there provided minimal adornment. The floors didn’t match, and on the whole the ambiance felt a bit off-kilter and cobbled together. But it didn’t matter much, first because of the friendly service from the server, Lori, and soon because of the more than satisfactory fish fry.
I ordered a Brandy Old Fashioned Sweet and looked over the Friday menu. It listed a three piece beer battered or breaded cod dinner ($14.95), baked cod ($14.95), Caesar Parmesan crusted cod ($15.50), hand breaded perch ($15.25), hand breaded bluegill ($14.95), and sautéed or beer battered shrimp ($16.95). The week’s “Friday Feature” was shrimp diablo ($18.95). Potato choices are fries, chips, or tots, with the option of a baked potato or potato pancakes for a $2 upcharge. Extra pieces of cod are $3. I went for the perch and pancakes.
The Old Fashioned was not unlike a million others made every Friday in fancy bars and dives across the state. It had a murky tint, being heavy on muddle, mix, and spirits, but having not more than a splash of soda.
The fish fry showed up in about 15 minutes. While the half slice of marbled rye felt like filler, everything else did not, starting with the coleslaw. Thick and creamy to the max, to put it simply, there was no way more slaw could have fit in with the slaw. The cup runneth over, man. With a large circumference, the potato pancakes looked commanding, and their taste confirmed this. Pepper and garlic—perhaps garlic powder—hit first, followed by onion and salt. The cakes were thin, and soft, with scarcely any crispness.
There were four pieces of perch, and they were meaty and juicy, with plenty of built-in flavor. They were covered with a thin breading, that was lightly salted and seasoned, but that didn’t draw attention to itself and instead pointed the light back on the perch. The tartar was busy, being heavy on relish and spices, and was almost too much for the fish, but ultimately did all right alongside it.
I might not know what absolute truth is. I might not know what happens after death. Sometimes I don’t even know what my own beliefs on these subjects are. The beliefs are occasionally in flux, but they are also personal, and I need not justify them to any other mortal. Socrates said something similar to “I know that I know nothing,” Operation Ivy said “All I know is that I don’t know nothing,” and sometimes I’m right there with them.
Similarly, I don’t know where the fish fry diners who regularly frequented Wegner’s St. Martins Inn now go. Maybe some go to Romey’s Place Bar & Grill while others go to The Hideaway Pub & Eatery. Maybe not. What I do know is that if some of them made their way to the Swiss Street Pub & Grille, they’d be pleasantly surprised. It probably wouldn’t be because of the ambiance—it’s not as cozy or reminiscent of an informal supper club like Wegner’s was—and maybe the food from Wegner’s was better, too. But the slaw, pancakes, and perch were all high on the rung, and on a Friday night, that’s all the truth I need to get by.
Takeaways: Somewhere between a dive bar, diner, and family restaurant; murky tinted Old Fashioned; thick and creamy slaw; memorably seasoned pancakes; meaty and juicy perch with a thin breading; busy tartar.
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