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 #593, at The Farmstead in Cedarburg, Wisconsin.
There’s a sign along Washington Avenue in Cedarburg for The Farmstead (W62N238 Washington Ave.; 262-375-2655), but once you turn into the driveway, you are on your own. There’s a big office building, and then a big parking lot, and then, set way back from the road, what looks to be an old farmhouse. Festooned with trees and shrubbery, it scarcely has a marking on its exterior saying what it is, except for the small signs on the doors that list the hours of operation. Like many old farmhouses, the world has grown up around it.
Finding the right entrance is just as challenging as finding the building, at least for some, or at least for me. I entered on the side that faces the parking lot, the entrance I assumed was the front door. It wasn’t well-lit inside, but light came from behind me and illuminated a sign that had an arrow that pointed to the left. I opened another door and began walking down a dark hallway. I moved towards the light ahead, like I was in the throes of death and moving to the great beyond. My eyes tried to adjust.
Suddenly, I shot out into the main room, dislocated, dissociated, and discombobulated.
“Did I come in the right door?” I asked, like an alien that had crashed into Earth.
“Yes…there are actually two doors,” a worker answered.
But let’s be honest. It was the wrong door. There was no host stand here. People were being greeted at the other door. Almost everyone I would see come in the rest of the night came in through the other door.
Most people were dressed up and I was wearing a trucker hat, T-shirt, and sneakers. Most people looked to be between 60 and 80, and I’m still hanging on to 39. An alien indeed. I followed the worker around to a few tables like a puppy dog, until she eventually placed me at one. My eyes cleared. I saw feed bags, farm implements, and other farm-related items hanging on the stone walls and from the wooden beams above. I saw about a dozen old wooden tables in the main dining room.
It’s impressive that the building dates to 1859, but equally impressive that The Farmstead has been open since 1984. I’d never been inside it before, but had picked up one of their bluegill frys in October 2020 and eaten it in a driveway in Grafton. I’d been meaning to return for the bluegill since, and to go inside the mysterious building from which it had been delivered to my vehicle during pandemic times. This time around, my server said the fish frys were the specials of the night and recommended the bluegill, directing me right to where I wanted to go anyway.
The Farmstead’s menu lists the bluegill fish fry ($18.95) as coming with a half pound of bluegill fillets tossed in lightly seasoned flour, along with soup or salad, hand cut fries, coleslaw, and rye bread. The cod fish fry ($14.95) is listed as coming with a half pound of cod fillets (4 pieces) coated in panko breadcrumbs, along with hand cut fries, coleslaw, and rye bread. Bluegill and cod fish frys are available on Wednesdays and Fridays. Also under the Gone Fishin’ section of the menu is grilled shrimp ($27.95), Louisiana catfish ($20.95), and pan fried walleye ($27.95). Each of these comes with soup or salad, hand cut fries, and the vegetable of the day. Fries can be swapped for garlic mashed potatoes for 75 cents. Four shrimp may be added to any dinner for $10.
As planned, I ordered the bluegill. Besides the hand cut fries listed on the menu, I was given the option of garlic mashed potatoes or wild rice, but decided to stick with the fries. The soup and salad choices were seven-layer salad, Caesar salad, and lobster bisque. I went with the bisque, just as I had in 2020.
About 10 minutes passed before the bisque arrived. In an alternative universe, lobster bisque could be the usual soup add-on at a Friday fish fry, not New England clam chowder. This bisque seemed to be a great representation of what that could mean. Except for a few little treats of hidden lobster, it was smooth as a glassy lake on a still day, and had a rich lobster flavor.
There were about 15 minutes between the landing of the bowl and plate. Two quarter pieces of rye were stacked at the plate’s edge. They were right in the middle of everything, like so many other ryes that have come before. It was challenging to decipher exactly what was all in the coleslaw, being that it was lathered so heavily with dressing. Was that celery? Wait, that was just celery seed, right? Yeah, I think that was it, and it gave it some extra pizzazz. Despite the slaw’s heavy coating, it was also wildly crunchy. Overall, it was more than just filler, and fought to be remembered, or at least to be acknowledged.
The hand cut fries were more imaginative than most. Semi-circular with skin on, they hit like bite-sized baked potatoes, but with no need for additional toppings. Still, I dipped them in ketchup. Getting the ketchup out of the bottle became my biggest and only gripe with the fries. Hit the 57. I know, I know…
How many bluegill fillets make a half pound? At The Farmstead, it’s seven. They were of varying sizes, but generally mid-sized, with none being puny or humongous. Just as the menu indicated, they appeared to be tossed in lightly seasoned flour. It was a light breading, thin enough that the flesh of the fish could be seen beneath it. It was also an ideal breading, providing flavor and texture without being overbearing. Each bite brought a slightly different adventure, as the bluegill underneath varied in taste just a bit. The flavor of dill pickle was at the front of the tartar, almost to a fault, yet it was balanced in composition.
I may have crashed in as a ravening alien, but by the end of the meal my composure had returned, and I walked out calmly and satiated, this time through a different door. Bluegill, man, it does wonders. Good thing they are serving it up right at The Farmstead.
Takeaways: Heavily coated yet crunchy slaw with celery seed pizzazz; imaginative semi-circular hand cut fries reminiscent of bite-sized baked potatoes; light and lightly seasoned breading on pleasing bluegill; a nicely priced fish fry, especially since it also comes with soup or salad; according to the Farmstead website: “Farmstead Fish Fry every Wednesday and Friday. Woo Hoo!”
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