The Mango Lassie

Milwaukee is a city imbued with German and Eastern European immigrant history. These cultures are so central to its past that they color the city’s present to a degree that’s especially obvious to an outsider like myself. Both times Empanada Boy and I have visited the spectacular Calatrava-designed Milwaukee Art Museum, we’ve seen shows dedicated to German and Eastern European art and design. German food and beer is so prevalent that it seems to appear on most bar menus alongside burgers and fries. To me, this gives Milwaukee an added dimension and makes it a fascinating place to visit. German culture is certainly the most obvious influence, but when Corn-y Uncle invited Empanada Boy and me to come up and meet him for dinner at Three Brothers, a Schlitz-brewery-turned-Serbian restaurant (pictured here), I was excited to delve into another of the city’s longstanding ethnic traditions. Before heading over to the restaurant, we drove together to Von Trier, an old-fashioned German bar.

Von Trier is so heavily decorated with murals, vintage steins and last year’s (or five years ago’s) Christmas decorations that I can think of no better descriptor than the one Corn-y Uncle used when proposing we go there: Rococo. They literally still have the Christmas village figurines on the ledge above the bar, and we spotted wreaths with red bows still clinging to the facade. We sidled up to the long wooden bar and selected from the many beers— local, German, Belgian and more— on tap. The darkness and the ornate walls prompted imagined scenes of manly gatherings of years gone by.

We soon bid goodbye to the Von Trier and headed to Three Brothers. This is a sparsely-decorated, house-like dining room with linoleum floors and a bar that looks like no one has tried its offerings for the last decade or two. After a few samples, we settled on a Montenegrin red wine made with the Vranac grape. It had the smooth tannins of Merlot, although some think it’s related to Primitivo, the Italian relative of Zinfandel. Characteristically, Corn-y Uncle planned ahead by pre-ordering one of the restaurant’s famous bureks. These flaky phyllo dough pies are filled with spinach, cheese (meat if desired) and a lot of other delicious things that aren’t too good for you. They take 45 minutes to prepare, but ours was ready to go about ten minutes after we arrived. It was flavorful with an excellent crispy skin and just the right amount of tangy cheese to balance out the richness. EB and I both remarked on how un-greasy it seemed, especially compared to the spanikotpitas of Chicago’s Greektown. We could have finished the whole thing, but we had another course coming. Corn-y Uncle got a couple pieces to take back to his hotel for breakfast.

Conscious of the fact that Eastern European food and diets don’t really go hand-in-hand, Empanada Boy and I decided to share the moussaka. The large brick of deliciously layered eggplant and beef had a silky, eggy filling and a crackly top. It too, was remarkably free of excess grease. Corn-y Uncle tried the less-attractive, but equally delicious goulash, a chunky beef stew that came with dense little dumplings. The dumplings were a little heavy for me, but the dish itself exuded old-world charm.

For dessert, we shared a slice of walnut cake that was light and fluffy, probably thanks to egg whites. Everything we tried was simple, flavorful food that had obviously been prepared by hand. This combination of positive factors is altogether too rare in the culinary world these days. I so often visit restaurants where chefs try to glamorize “homestyle” food by making it ridiculously complex. Corn-y Uncle and I are not alone in thinking Three Brothers is unique; I did some research and found that Three Brothers’s owner Branko Radicevic received a James Beard Foundation Award in 2002 for small, regional, classic American restaurants. The fact that a restaurant serving fare from Serbia can still feel so comfortable and so definitively American is one of the great things about our country’s culinary tradition. I may never get to Serbia, but I certainly know where I’ll be dining the next time I’m in Milwaukee, Wisconsin.

Three Brothers Serbian Restaurant
2414 S. Saint Clair St.
Milwaukee, WI 53207
414.481.7530

Von Trier
2235 N. Farwell Ave.
Milwaukee, WI 53202
414.272.1775

If there’s one thing people in Milwaukee are crazy about, it’s baseball, specifically Brewers baseball. If I could name two more signature Milwaukee pleasures, they would probably be beer and brats. All three of these elements converged today when Empanada Boy and I drove to Milwaukee to meet up with Drumstix and Popcorn Princess for a Brewers baseball game.

Watching a game in the relatively new and very elegant Miller Park was a treat, especially because the Brewers won. I also learned a lot about Milwaukee baseball tradition, including the famous sausage race. Yes, that’s right. At the bottom of the sixth inning, five people dressed up in costumes representing various sausages race each other halfway around the outside of the diamond. The sausages (in order of appearance from left to right) are: Polish, Bratwurst, Chorizo (a recent addition), Italian and a regular hot dog. Fans can place bets on which sausage will win the race during each game. Being the open-minded gourmand that he is, Empanada Boy was rooting for the chorizo. The Italian sausage won.

The race was a major reason that Empanada Boy and I found ourselves craving sausages after the game was over. Luckily we went to Water Street Brewery in downtown Milwaukee. Water Street’s proprietary brew turned out to be quite tasty, but their menu offerings seemed fairly average. EB and I immediately honed in on the sausage plates, which were the bright spot of distinction. I had the “Old World Selection” (pictured above). It came with a brat boiled in Water Street’s lager and a knackwurst atop a bed of sauerkraut and accompanied by German potato salad and excellent spicy mustard. EB went Polish with this kielbasa and smoked beef sausage platter. This came with spaetzle, German seasoned fried dough balls.

All of the sausages were made by Usinger’s, which is apparently considered the best for brats among Milwaukeeans in the know. I’m glad Water Street Brewery hasn’t taken items like these off its menu to make way for bland health food wraps or more run-of-the-mill fried dishes. My meal felt like a natural continuation of the themes of the day. Eating the beer-boiled brats and drinking beer at Water Street was, in many ways, like the Brewers game. Only here, the sausages were racing into my mouth… Oh, and there was no more baseball to be played.

Water Street Brewery
1101 N. Water St.
Milwaukee, WI 53202
414.272.1195

In the (almost) year since I started dating a Wisconsinite, I have learned that Wisconsin culinary specialties go beyond cheese. There’s the beer-boiled brat, the Friday fish fry and the wild rice fixation, to name a few. Among the more sinful Wisconsin delicacies is the butter burger, a thin patty, served on a bun that is literally dripping with butter. The great thing about Wisconsin is that it’s real butter, not margarine or some other partially hydrogenated concoction. This is the dairy state, and they do things right.

With that introduction, you might think I am about to recount a decadent butter burger encounter. I am not. When Empanada Boy and I went to Milwaukee yesterday, we planned to stop at Solly’s Grille, an acclaimed butter burger spot. But when we got through with the lengthy matinee we had come up to see, it was already 7:15 pm. Solly’s closes at 8 pm.

We decided instead to take a recommendation from some friends of EB’s parents who had been sitting next to us at the play. They told us to check out Elsa’s on the Park, another burger joint, although these weren’t the butter variety. When I called Elsa’s to ask how late they were open, and the woman who answered said, “until 2 a.m.”

That should have tipped me off to the fact that Elsa’s isn’t your typical burger joint. We drove right by it once, thinking it looked too much like a hip bar to be what we thought we were looking for. In fact, Elsa’s is a hip bar with irregularly cut glass bricks refracting beams of light on either side of the door and shimmery phallic statues in each of the front windows. Bartenders dressed in white whip up designer cocktails along one wall, and the walls are hung with brightly colored modern collages. Empanada Boy and I felt more than a little uncool compared to the young jet-setters of Milwaukee who packed the restaurant on that Saturday night, but we are cool enough for each other, and that was all that mattered.

It took a while for us to secure seats outside the smoking lounge, so we sat at the bar and ordered some drinks. EB had a beer (in a bottle as none are on tap), and I ordered a Caipirinha. Instead of adding sugar syrup to my drink, the bartender stuck in a piece of pink rock candy on a stir stick. The result was a drop-deadly strong drink. Luckily the sugar dissolved quickly, and it became quite pleasant.

When we were seated, we ordered our burgers. Ever the unconventional one, Empanada Boy ordered the Daisy Mae burger, featuring lemon-marinated turnip, radish and cucumber. Staying true to my heritage, I ordered the white-wine marinated Greek Maiden with feta, olives, mint and red onion.

The massive burgers (over 1/2 lb.) were served in elegant silver dishes with waffle-cut fries, a pickle and a few assorted fruits and vegetables. The beef was good, but nothing spectacular, although both were cooked a perfect medium rare as ordered. EB’s was a nice surprise. The acidic crispiness of the lemony extras added some nice texture and cut through the richness of the meat. My choice was something of a disappointment, making me wish I had ordered a plain burger. The feta was fine, although a little overwhelming in its saltiness. The olives were plain black ones from a can, not the kalamatas any true Greek maiden would expect. I also couldn’t taste any of the mint that was allegedly there. The fries were decent, and hey, burgers are burgers, and these were not bad.

After stuffing ourselves at Elsa’s, we could think of nothing more suitable than to stuff ourselves even more, but taking a detour to Kopp’s Frozen Custard for another Wisconsin specialty.

Despite its suburban strip location, there is an enclosed patio with a majestically-lit waterfall outside the Kopp’s we visited. EB and I heard a teenage girl coming out of the restaurant saying, in all earnestness, that she loved the spot so much that she planned to get married there. I wouldn’t go that far, but I’m sure a fair number of first kisses happen on summer nights by the falls. The interior is like a large industrial kitchen with high school-aged staff dressed in white and a clean metallic look to the fountain and grill preparation zones. Customers stand at small round tables, eating custard and burgers.

The first time I tried frozen custard, I assumed it was the same thing as soft serve, but it’s actually a bit different. Frozen custard has egg yolk in it, making it richer and creamier. EB and I decided to share “The Smile,” a sundae made by chocolate coating the dish, then adding three scoops of vanilla custard, some caramel and marshmallow, more chocolate and some large peanuts. It was tasty, but not as good as other frozen custard combinations I’ve tried. Again, I found myself wishing I had just ordered a plain cone of custard. Most of all, I found myself so full I could barely move out to the car.

I tried to sleep off the uncomfortable fullness as the valiant Empanada Boy drove us all the way back home.

Elsa’s On the Park
833 N. Jefferson St.
Milwaukee, WI 53202
414.765.0615

Kopp’s Frozen Custard (various locations)
7631 W. Layton Ave.
Greenfield, WI 53220
414.282.4312