The Mango Lassie

Italy was wonderful, but it was equally great to come home to my dear Empanada Boy. After singing carols, opening presents under the tree and eating way too much at his parents’ house in Madison (the first real Christmas celebration of my lifetime), we decided to head up north to his family’s vacation home in Eagle River.

Along the way, we stopped in Rhinelander (although it may be closer to Sugar Camp) at one of EB’s family’s favorite stomping grounds, the White Stag Inn. The White Stag is an old-fashioned steakhouse and supper club with dark wood walls, decorated with antique plates, deer heads and other hunting trophies and replicas of paintings by the masters. It is the kind of place that hip, neo-hunting-lodge places like Portland’s Doug Fir are trying to emulate.

EB’s family has been coming here for a long time, but it’s clear that the menu has been the way it is for much longer. As EB explained to me, each entrée, most of which are beef in some form, comes with a salad, bread and a baked potato.

The rolls were nothing special. Next time I won’t even waste my calories by sampling one. But the salad here is like nothing I’ve ever seen at a restaurant before. A bowl filled with large wedges of iceberg lettuce is delivered to the table with some tongs for serving. Each diner takes a wedge in his or her bowl and then begins to dress it, gradually dismantling its leaves. Under normal circumstances, I might have stopped at the iceberg lettuce, but I could sense that this was a cultural experience.

There are three different house-made dressings at the White Stag: a creamy Russian, a French with garlic and a vinaigrette. They come in a tripartite serving tray. Servers actually recommend that a blend of all three be drizzled on the lettuce. Why don’t they just blend them all together to begin with, you ask? Good question. Perhaps it’s because not every diner is partial to all of them. I, for example, was not a fan of the Russian, but the other two were suprisingly good, making even iceberg edible. Under EB’s direction, we also ordered bleu cheese crumbles to sprinkle on top. Once again, only in the Midwest.

My entrée was a half chicken, cooked “Dave’s way,” which means coated in lots of garlic and roasted. It was delicious in the way that roasted chickens from the grocery store tend to be, but this one obviously had less salt (a good thing) and a better balance of flavors. There was enough left over to make some nice chicken sandwiches for lunch the next day.

The baked potato on the side was fine, though hardly necessary considering the amount of chicken on my plate. The White Stag makes its own cottage cheese and chives adornment, which gives the potatoes a nice kick.

Ever true to himself, Empanada Boy could not refrain from ordering the filet mignon. At $20, it comes in a bit above the Mango Lassie’s price range, but considering that it comes with salad, it might cut it. Plus, a filet mignon for $20 is a deal good enough that even the cheapest of cheapskates might make an exception once in a while. This was as tasty a piece of meat as a filet mignon should be, coated in a rich, buttery sauce.

There was absolutely no room in our stomachs for dessert, although it is available. Perhaps some of my readers can recommend a dessert they’ve tried. I, for one, would admire the diner who could make it that far.

The White Stag Inn
7141 State Highway 17
Rhinelander, WI 54501
715.272.1057