Wisconsin is kind of like Texas! We like things big – at least if those things are giant fish, loons, chickens, cheese, mice, pink elephants or in this case a moose. For some strange reason we feel the need to put large fiberglass critters on top of or in front of our Northern restaurants. I think it’s an old trick to try to entice the tourists from South of the Cheddar Curtain into thinking this is standard Northwood’s décor, and for some strange reason will make your food and dining experience better. The really sad part about this is for years it worked. Tonight the Little Marinara and I were with our niece Tracy from the Twin Cities, who by the way is in her early thirties with two kids and still a hottie. They wanted to know where we were going to eat and I told them I couldn’t remember the name but it had a big moose in the front yard, hence the original name The Big Moose Supper Club.
We pull into the parking lot and note that we are only the second car to arrive – bad sign on a Friday evening, but what the hell it’s early. At least we can get a spot at the bar and I can smoke a cigar. We cross the threshold and the balance of the evening is a cross between the twilight zone and three-ring circus. Our bartender is friendly but doesn’t know squat about cocktails or pouring tap beers, The Little Marinara and Tracy go into ‘chick’ mode and immediately notice and comment on the bartenders extra tight, low rise jeans that work well to accentuate and showcase her muffin top and butt-crack. Of course being the gentleman that I am I just ordered a martini (she had to look awhile to find the vodka) and light a great stogie. About this time a waitress, with most of her teeth, came in with a drink order. Muffin Top hereafter referred to as MT was having problems locating the Canadian Whiskey, I help her out again, point her in the right direction describing it by location and color of the label. Tracy then orders another beer and MT pulls on the tap handle and it just gurgles and spurts foam, I told here the keg was empty and she finally grasped that idea. About now the circus arrives. MT locates the guy who must have been the owner to change out the keg a waitress comes over to watch; they pull the line and all three of them are covered in foam. Honest to god you can’t make this crap up. Another car pulls into the parking lot so we figure we should get a table before they are all gone – right.
As we walk into the dining room we note that the entire place has just been remodeled, it is clean and smells new. We are directed to a corner table below one of the numerous velvet paintings adorning the wall. I thought I died and went to a special place in hell reserved for people who poke fun at HGTV.
A menu arrives and I notice they have jalapeño poppers, I ask our waitress (ours had all her teeth) how many are in an order, bad question. We get the deer in the headlight look and she says “I don’t have a clue.” As it turns out this is the usual response to most of the questions. So we order the Poppers, and I have the Perch and the girls order the Fish Fry (Cod). The Poppers arrive and are fried so hard they could be bounced a foot off the floor. The fish arrives and is standard pre-breaded fare with freezer frys and warm slaw. It is not over cooked like the poppers, but average in flavor. I notice several steam tables tucked in the corner and asked our waitress if they served a buffet, she said no, buffets cost too much money so they don’t do it anymore. I guess costs are a concern as there were only three tables counting us in the dining room. As we pulled out of the parking lot I notice the Big Moose had a few tears in his eyes, probably constipated from the poppers. This club has been here since I was the Little Ragu and I can remember when we drove past there telling my Father we should stop and eat. I didn’t know it then but he imparted some sage advice when he told me “Son never eat at restaurant with jumbo fiberglass animals in the driveway.” The old man was right on this one. The Big Ragu gives this a 1 outa 5