Caleb Westphal hasn’t missed a Friday fish fry since 2013. Follow his never-ending adventures HERE. This week: fish fry #644, at The Phoenix Restaurant in Hartland, Wisconsin.
“Practice resurrection.” — Wendell Berry from “Manifesto: The Mad Farmer Liberation Front.”
Practice resurrection. Practice it when you are backed up against the wall. When your wounds are rubbed raw and exposed. When the brunt of what Wendell Berry writes about in “Manifesto: The Mad Farmer Liberation Front”—the consumerism, militarism, and bureaucratism—is pressing down hard. When you’re broken down on the side of the road. When a triangle of sadness is branding into your forehead. Practice resurrection then. There is no other way. There are many ways to do it. I practice it every Friday. I practice it with a fish fry.
There’s a restaurant in Hartland that can help you practice resurrection with fish on Friday, and this restaurant has practiced resurrection itself, having risen out of fire and ashes to become The Phoenix (129 Cottonwood Ave., 262-367-9020). It had been O’Brien’s Hardware Store, built in 1886, before it burned when most of the buildings on the north end of Cottonwood Avenue were damaged in a fire in July 1906. Charles Gerbensky and John Hurtgen rebuilt it and it was given the name The Phoenix, after the immortal bird of mythology that rose out of ashes. They ran it as a tavern, but they also hosted rollerskating, boxing matches, and masquerade parties on the second floor.
For decades—during the 1930s, ’40s, ’50s, and ’60s—it was known as The Auto Inn. Friday fish frys were served. For some of the 1970s and ’80s it was the Inn-Between. Friday fish frys were served. Karl Stielow worked at the Inn-Between and bought the building in 1985. He made it Karl’s Place. Fish frys were served. In the 1990s, the original name was reborn, and Karl’s Place became The Phoenix. Karl passed away in 2013. His life partner and The Phoenix’s co-owner, Nancy Fetkenhauer, passed away earlier this year. Her granddaughter Cherie Fetkenhauer is now listed as the owner. Friday fish frys are served.
I arrived alone at 23 minutes past 5:00, which was 23 minutes too late for my liking, but it was the best I could do on this particular Friday. I put my name in and was told it would be about a half-hour wait for a seat in the dining room. I was asked if I wanted to sit at the bar or take one of the tables in the pool room if one was open, but I turned them down, determined to get a seat in the dining room. Maybe I wanted a fuller experience. Maybe I just wanted to have a good view of the salad bar I had read about. I grabbed a Michelob Ultra Zero and propped my elbow on a high top that overlooked both the bar and the door to the dining room. That’s where I remained for over an hour.
About halfway through my wait, I was told a seat in the pool room was open and was asked if I wanted it, but turned it down. I hadn’t come this far just to sit in the pool room. I looked over the Friday Night Menu section of the printed menu, and noticed some additional combo specials displayed on a monitor. The printed menu listed a number of dinners that The Phoenix serves of Fridays, all of which come with the salad bar—which includes clam chowder—as well as a choice of potato: baked potato, potato pancakes, fries, waffle fries, or tots. The options are fried Icelandic cod (two-piece for $12.95, three-piece for $15.95, or four-piece for $18.95), baked Icelandic cod (one pound for $20.95), lake perch (four-piece for $15.95 or seven-piece for $19.95), walleye (one-piece for $15.95 or two-piece for $22.95, baked or fried or one of each), eight fried original or coconut jumbo shrimp ($18.95), and five fried stuffed shrimp ($20.95). The monitor on the wall listed a two-fish combo ($21.95), saying to choose two of cod, walleye, or perch, but didn’t specify how many total pieces of fish it comes with. It also listed a fried shrimp combo ($17.95) that comes with four original and four coconut shrimp.
There are only nine tables in the dining room, and it ended up taking extra long for me to get seated because only two of the tables are two-tops, and they wanted to seat me at one of them and not at one of the bigger tables. So, after about an hour and fifteen minutes, I finally had my table. The person who brought me to my table apologized for the long wait. While I had originally been leaning towards the perch, and should have asked more about the combos—or just looked at the table tent directly in front of me on the table that listed more information about them—I ordered the four-piece cod and potato pancakes immediately after sitting down, because I was famished and because the menu had said “Our same delicious recipe for over 30 years!” next to the fried cod. If I would have read the table tent, I would have learned that the two-fish combos come with either two pieces of cod and one of walleye, three of perch and one of walleye, or three of perch and two of cod—this last one probably being what I would have gone with in hindsight.
But never mind quibbling about the past, let’s get to the salad bar. I went to it twice. I got clam chowder, lettuce salad, coleslaw, potato salad, and a piece of rye bread on my first trip. The chowder was stew-like, with vegetables such as potatoes and carrots softened in the stew. The clams, in contrast, had a resilient, bounce-back feel when bit. A robust clam flavor permeated it all.
When I returned to the salad bar, I narrowed it to the usual fish fry sides, coleslaw and rye bread. I devoted a whole dish to the slaw and grabbed two pieces of bread. This time around, I reflected more on them. The bread was soft, but had more than fluff to it, having substance with a good chew. There was some salt on the edges to boot. Even when involving a slotted spoon, the slaw was pretty runny. It didn’t have a bite, as slaws often do, nor was it peppery, yet it was able to maintain a full-bodied flavor. It must have come from whatever was in the juices it was marinating in.
The fish fry plate landed before I could lap up the rest of the slaw. The two potato pancakes were put together quite well. They were thin and well-browned, and soft except for a crispness on their edges, with an appealing interior. They were mellow, not having onion or other harsher flavors, but with enough flavor to keep my attention. There was some high-grade chunky applesauce to go with them.
Four honkin’ square chunks of cod sat in the middle of the plate. First that never-ending salad bar, and now this? Jeepers, what had I gotten myself into? They were covered with a thin, crisp breading. It was seasoned and salted and had a hint of Sunday’s fried chicken, but was only crisp, not extra crispy. The cod beneath it was flaky and white, thick, and chunky—all fish, no filler. The tartar overflowed with sweet relish. There may have been some other notable components, but they were buried in the mix.
By the time I was almost done with third piece I was sweating, and I couldn’t tell if was because another phoenix was about to rise from the bowels of the building, if the room was just warm, or if it was because, well, I had taken a large portion of the salad out of the bar and this was some honkin’ big cod. It must have been the cod, because I don’t think the temperature in the room was that high. I decided to bring the fourth piece home.
A four-piece fish fry with clam chowder and a salad bar for under $20 is quite a deal, and all it takes to get one is to drive a half hour, give or take, from Milwaukee’s city limits, and maybe a willingness to wait over an hour if eating by the pool table isn’t good enough for you, or you don’t want to saddle up next to the half-cut beer drinkers at the bar. Besides the great price, this fish fry might be for you if you are looking for any or all of the following: thick, flaky white cod; a thin, crisp, and seasoned breading; relish-heavy tartar; thin potato pancakes; and a salad bar with clam chowder on it.
Despite the long wait, the service at The Phoenix was excellent. There was one server covering all nine tables, and they were executing flawlessly. “Thanks for bearing with us tonight,” I was told as I was leaving. If I make it back that way, the only thing I’m going to do differently besides trying to arrive earlier is to get the perch and cod combo. And there is some chance that I will make it back someday. Because I plan to keep practicing resurrection on Fridays as long as I can. There is no other way. What better place to do it than at a restaurant called The Phoenix?
Takeaways: A welcoming place with great service but a long wait; salad bar; stew-like, clam-forward chowder included on the salad bar; juicy coleslaw with a full-bodied flavor; soft rye bread with substance not fluff; thin, mellow potato pancakes; honkin’ chunky cod with thin, crisp batter.
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