The latest from Twitter: @Peace_Coffee plays cupid with “Caffeinate Your Cutie,” @triplerockmpls is serving @surlybrewing Mild at $3.50 a pint, @bittercube celebrates the long-anticipated opening of Eat Street Social, and @Masu_NE will feature a suggestive little Valentine’s Day roll through Tuesday.
Julie Boehmer / Heavy Table
“Back when I started this business, there were beer joints on every corner,” says John Weber, owner of the BeeHive Tavern in Dayton’s Bluff. “There was the Tiger Tap a block down, Dayton’s Bluff Lounge was ’round the corner at the bend in the road, The Glass Bar was at the bottom of the hill — they had a big long bar made out of glass blocks. On the weekends, you would put on your jogging suit and go jogging from bar to bar.”
The BeeHive was once a stately two-story brick structure, bar downstairs, apartments above. After a devastating fire in the ’40s, rebuilding was cost-prohibitive so they capped the roof instead, leaving a rather strange-looking structure. Inside the bar, a photo of the original building hangs on the wall with turn-of-the-century folk hanging out on the sidewalk in front, old-timey heads above poking out the apartment windows, smiling at the camera.
Julie Boehmer / Heavy Table
Weber and his wife, Joanie, have owned the BeeHive for 36 years. Most days you will find one of them running the business. A sign that reads “Bartenders Do It With Gusto” hangs behind the bar; there is also a plaque of a Viking peeing on Packers helmet, and to the side is a sweet old Winston cigarette machine. Lifetime movies or the show “Cash Cab” might be playing on TV, and the jukebox is full of vintage hits like Marshall Tucker Band’s “Heard it in a Love Song.” Sometimes a couple of customers sip frosted glasses of 3.2 beer — everyone seems to know John and Joanie well. Often the bar is empty.
Julie Boehmer / Heavy Table
But there was a time when business was brisk, the atmosphere lively; with big industries like Whirlpool, 3M, and Hamm’s Beer operating in the neighborhood, workers and residents kept the bars busy day and night, opening early for workers from the night shifts who filled the stools at 7am.
“When we first opened, it was three deep at the bar all day long. I made more money when beer was a quarter then I do now at $1.75,” Weber says. “They used to say if you had 20 regular customers coming into the bar you could make it. But now it’s hundreds of people, and you need pulltabs and all that, too. I’m still here because I bought and paid for this place years ago. I am the last of the dying breed.”
There were many 3.2 bars like the BeeHive in the area since it was much cheaper and easier to get a 3.2 license rather than a full liquor license. The 3.2 bars tended to be on corners, like the neighborhood grocery stores, and were an easy business to start without extensive capital. In the ’70s and ’80s industries began relocating; jobs dried up, people began to move out of the community, and both the 3.2 and full liquor bars began to close.
The Mounds Park Lounge
On a lovely summer afternoon in Dayton’s Bluff, folks are out on walks, swimming, and having picnics. But inside the Mounds Park Lounge — another hold-out from the heyday — the light only floods into the dark bar when someone opens the door. Like every Saturday at noon, Mounds Park Lounge is holding their meat raffle. The bar stools are almost all filled with older gentlemen sipping tall cold beers and watching a deer hunting show on TV.
Everyone seems to know everyone else, but new faces are warmly welcomed. You won’t find any craft beer here, but a bottle of Bud will only set you back $2.50, and a cocktail runs $3.50, including a killer Bloody Mary with beef stick garnish. It’s easy to be the big spender who picks up the tab when a round of four drinks sets you back $10 plus tip.
Julie Boehmer / Heavy Table
The community surrounding Mounds Park Lounge is a reflection of the times: yards with overgrown weedy grasses, “Keep out” notices in windows of foreclosed homes, “For sale” signs dotting every block. According to the real estate website Zillow, in the past year 43.9 percent of the neighborhood’s home sales were post-foreclosure homes, compared to 27.4 percent in St. Paul as a whole. The median single home value in Dayton’s Bluff is currently $92,200. But in this area you also find stunning views of downtown and West St. Paul, majestic bluffs overlooking the Mississippi River, and the grandeur of Victorian homes lovingly restored to their original glory. Continue reading The Bars of Dayton’s Bluff »
Compliments of the Roger J. Larson Family / Circa 1930s
For adventurous food lovers, a visit to the Minnesota State Fair is a treasure hunt for novelty. Some make it a tradition to seek out and sample first-time treats, playing a guessing game to identify which will be the culinary equivalent of a one-hit wonder and which might become a classic hit.
But those who want an increasingly rare taste of America, they might consider plopping down at a church dining hall — while they still can.
“The tradition of good food at the Fair started with these diners,” says Dennis Larson, who manages the licensing of food vendors at the Minnesota State Fair. “Fast food was sort of invented at the Fair, and that’s what flourishes here.”
According to State Fair records, there were 26 church-run establishments in 1955. Forty years later, in 1995, six remained. This year, it’s down to three, and counting. The 2011 Get-Together will be the final year for the Epiphany Country Diner. After serving fairgoers holy chow for 45 years, the Coon Rapids-based Epiphany Catholic Church is calling it quits.
“It was not a decision made lightly or without significant heartache,” says Sue Lewis, a longtime church member and volunteer. “We are not blaming anyone for our closing. Our food is simply not as desirable as it used to be.”
Kate NG Sommers / Heavy Table
“That’s so sad!” says James Matheson, when he heard about Epiphany’s pending demise. Matheson has worked the Fair for the past dozen years, first as a broadcast technician and more recently in promotions. He’s tucked into many a meal served by church volunteers. “I think about the hot turkey sandwich all year. It’s true comfort food. And you can sit down for a minute to eat.”
In 1967, $1.35 bought a full dinner at the Epiphany Diner. A piece of pie tacked 20 cents onto the cost.
This year, platters featuring roasted-on-site turkey or beef, real mashed potatoes and gravy, a roll, and a scoop of green beans for color will cost $9.50. Epiphany will also offer burgers, wraps, a $5 walking taco, and a full breakfast; $8 buys scrambled eggs, pancakes or toast, hash brown,s and a choice of meat hot off the griddle.
There was a time when such hearty Fairground fare was in demand. With roots as an agricultural exposition, farm families were once the essential visitors. They made the annual pilgrimage to the Cities to show their sheep, marvel at gargantuan pumpkins, and size up equipment on Machinery Hill. Their idea of a treat was the familiar gravy-drenched fare they ate in their small-town cafes; they sought out the church halls for their home-cooked breakfasts and country-style dinners.
Kate N.G. Sommers / Heavy Table
Today, riding lawn mowers outnumber combines on Machinery Hill. The Fair’s research shows that today’s typical visitor is from the metro area. Most food vendors offer a single product rather than a choice of heaping plates. Visitors who might relish meatloaf and mashed potatoes at home prefer a deep-fried, chocolate-dipped, spiral-cut spud when strolling the Midway.
Like other food vendors, the church dining halls must run commercial kitchens and submit to health and safety regulations.
“Years ago, women in the congregation would make food at home and bring it to the Fair in roaster pans; it was free money for them,” Larson says. “Now it’s a lot of work for not that much of a profit.”
Senior Day is always a big day for the church halls. But it’s not enough to be popular with oldsters and the 3,000 eaters who make up the State Fair’s daily work force.
“People who eat what we call ‘the fun food’ are here for a day,” says Larson. “If you’re here all the time, you want meat and potatoes. But there aren’t enough of us for the churches to make it with those numbers.” Continue reading How the State Fair Church Dining Hall Faded Away »
Courtesy of Tony Ressie Photography
Sometimes, it’s the room that makes the drink all the more pleasing. Soon, Twin Cities residents may again be privy to the warm vibes of the 75-year-old rathskeller in the depths of the landmark Schmidt Brewery site (at 882 7th St W in St. Paul). A potential re-open of the space follows the recent momentum created by property owners, who renewed vending access to the site’s ancient water resources last year.
After producing beer for the better part of 13 decades, the Schmidt Brewery complex hasn’t provided the West Seventh Street community with much of a buzz in the New Millennium. That may be about to change. In recent weeks, the site’s owners have signed multiple purchases agreements for redevelopment on the property. One agreement is with Plymouth-based property management and development firm, Dominium; the other is with the West 7th / Fort Road Federation, a community advocacy group.
“We’re selling the front office and the majority of the land on West Seventh frontage to the West 7th / Fort Road Federation and I believe they’ll be doing some retail. And they’ve got the backing of the City of St. Paul, so I think there’s a strong chance that’s going to happen and that’s scheduled to close next April,” said Dave Kreitzer, who manages the property for Minnetonka-based owners BHGDN.
Photo by Jason S. Shapiro
Among the goals of West 7th / Fort Road may be a re-opening of the rathskeller space coupled with the new retail offerings along West Seventh.
“And Dominium has been interested in this property for many years,” Kreitzer continued. “We’ve entered into an agreement to sell the castle building and the bottle house to Dominium and we expect them to close in the next year or so.” Continue reading A Schmidt Brewery Revival? »
Tags: Schmidt Brewery
Katie Cannon / Heavy Table
How is it that some recipes become proprietary and others do not? It seems less about the quality of the recipe than nostalgia — for a point in a time, a person, a place, or simply a flavor.
After all, we have all known perfectly delicious recipes, real crowd-pleasing keepers, to be published broadly and without ceremony among friends, relations, and willing strangers. And then again, there are humble recipes of few and simple ingredients that get tucked away in coffer boxes, their cards taken out and copied but once or twice a generation and delivered with all the seriousness and joy of a family jewel.
Uncle Pete’s Mustard is one of those treasures, a secret concoction — of the crowd-pleasing keeper variety, but more about that later — passed down through four generations of producer Tom Dietman’s family.
The mustard emigrated from Poland in 1875 with Dietman’s maternal great grandparents, the Janochoskys, who may not have thought of it as rarefied. It lived in their pantry as a staple, trotted out with every meal the way some families put salt, pepper, and butter on the table.
Somewhere along the line, however, their son Pete realized there was something special about the family’s table mustard. A carpenter by trade and an avid gardener, he was apparently not much of a cook, but did enjoy making small batches of sauerkraut and mustard to eat and give away to visiting friends and family; people came back for the mustard. “He kind of became known as the mustard man,” says Dietman. “That started up some foot traffic to his house, if you will; people came just to get the mustard. They’d ask him for the recipe, but he wouldn’t release it.”
Katie Cannon / Heavy Table
Dietman was five when his great uncle passed away, so his memories of Pete are spare, a child’s vague impressions supplemented with family anecdotes. “I remember laughing a lot,” says Dietman. “He had a great sense of humor — kind of mischievous as my mother describes it.”
Continue reading Uncle Pete’s Mustard: The Legacy Lives On »
Katie Cannon / Heavy Table
Travel along a rural highway in the Upper Midwest, and chances are you’ll run into a classic supper club before you find a set of Golden Arches. Hearkening back to the post-Prohibition days when diners enthusiastically embraced their new ability to mix (at least publicly) food and drink, these roadside stand-bys offered hearty fare, ample libations, and, often, musical entertainment to keep the crowds going all night long. They were one-stop shops for people looking for an evening out — restaurants within easy driving distance from their country homes where they could see the same friends every Saturday night.
Today, of course, our more urban and mobile population doesn’t have to rely on regional establishments like supper clubs to enjoy a night away from the kitchen. With hundreds of restaurants within easy driving distance, city dwellers, at least, have an overwhelming number of choices when it comes to eating out. But intrigued by the supper-club concept and curious to see if the traditional model is still relevant today, the Heavy Table embarked on a 350-mile odyssey to visit both its classic and modern-day versions. We devoured relish trays, dug into hot, fresh popovers, and made room for humongous steaks. We talked to the restaurateurs who are keeping the flame of these pre-World War II era institutions alive, and those who are putting their own spin on the decades-old phenomenon. What we found is that while Midwestern supper clubs may automatically conjure up images of old-timers chowing down on all-you-can-eat walleye dinners, the dining establishments are thriving throughout Minnesota and Wisconsin today — just in a slightly different format than our grandparents would recognize.
Katie Cannon / Heavy Table
The Time: 1920s
The Place: Laurel Supper Club, New Richmond, WI
“The common denominator in today’s notion of a supper club is simple American cuisine like surf and turf, shrimp cocktail on ice, charbroiled garlic toast, an ample relish tray, homemade salad dressings, and a signature dish á la ’sconi, from watermelon pickles, paté, or potatoes au gratin to whitefish livers, monster steaks, or pan-fried frog legs,” Brenda K. Bredahl writes on TravelWisconsin.com.
Follow Highway 64 east from Stillwater, cross the state line, and pass through the burg of New Richmond, WI. The Laurel Supper Club sits unassumingly along the quiet roadway, as it has since the 1920s when it was originally called the Timber Wolf. Its name and ownership has changed hands multiple times since then, but not much else has, according to current owner Roberta Little, who bought the Laurel three and half years ago with her husband, Glen.
“We didn’t change anything — we kept all the staff, all the chefs. The head chef has been the head chef for 30 years,” Little says.
Katie Cannon / Heavy Table
And apparently, what has worked for all those years continues to please customers today, with the reservation book filling up for weekend nights weeks in advance. That relish tray, a dinosaur-sized tray of crudités, pâté, and crackers, remains a staple for the appetizer course, and dishes like the queen- and king-sized prime rib tempt meat-loving diners with their more-than-generous portions and side dishes, which include popovers, salad, soup or tomato juice, bread, and potatoes. We couldn’t resist the 24-oz. steak for two, which also comes with your choice of a bottle of champagne, merlot, or white zinfandel. Perhaps the white zin, a high-school flashback if there ever was one, wasn’t the best choice for the juicy steak, but it provided the kitsch factor that seemed appropriate in an old-fashioned dining room that could have been found at Grandma’s house.
“You got to keep your quality good and your service has to be good. Everything is homemade. Everything that’s put on the table is made here. We cook on charcoal. Fresh-baked bread every day,” Little says.
Though you’ll find a full bar at the front of the club, as expected, what you won’t find is entertainment, which Little attributes to a lack of space and lack of interest among her patrons.
“It would be nice, but I think things have changed to the point where a lot of people don’t do that much anymore, because of the drinking laws and such. We’re a supper club, we’re only open until 10 p.m. on the weekends,” she says. “[Customers] used to dance — they used to polka and stuff. The cars would be lined up on the highway. It sounds like it was quite the hoppin’ place.”
If you dine with any frequency in Madison, WI — a city sometimes reputed to have the most restaurants per capita of any in the United States — you soon become used to the constant churn of restaurants. It’s a constant storm, driven by a massively and rapidly changing population of undergrads at the UW-Madison and a lively business and government community always on the lookout for the next hip place to eat.
Take pity, then, on Nichole Fromm and JonMichael Rasmus, the proprietors of the restaurant review blog Eating in Madison A to Z. The two (who are married) are determined to eat at every single restaurant in the city of Madison, a task that has brought them to more than 450 different eateries — and up to the “O” section of the alphabet. They also won recognition this week — hitting the top of the annual Best Local Blogger category in the Isthmus.
The site got its start in a marital spat.
“Basically, Nichole and I have a fundamental disagreement about food in our marriage,” says Rasmus, who works as a game designer for the Wisconsin Lottery. “And it turns out that you eat a lot of meals with your spouse. And I’m sort of a… I don’t really care about my food too much, I just kind of eat so that I won’t be hungry anymore. Nichole’s much more the stereotypical foodie…”
“Stereotypical!” she exclaims, quietly but firmly.
“You know! You’re more like the… nevermind,” he trails off. “Anyway, this caused a great deal of consternation in our young marriage.”
“I would spend a whole lot of points to get him to go out to a place, and the pressure to pick the right place was overwhelming,” Fromm says.
After graduating with a masters in library science in 2004, Fromm picked Harvest for her graduation dinner. “I didn’t want that to be the last time I could go to a nice restaurant,” she says. They turned to an exhaustive restaurant guide put out by the Isthmus, Madison’s venerable alt weekly.
“So she just opened up the book and was like: ‘Would you eat here? Would you eat here? Would you eat here?’” says Rasmus. “And I said: ‘You know, we should just do them all. We should just go through the book.’”
An interest in information technology spurred by Nichole’s studies was all that was needed to catapult the idea into a blog.
Now, dining on their own dime and going back to eat at newly opened restaurants in letters they’ve already “finished,” Fromm and Rasmus have eaten their way up to the letter O, earning this year’s Best Local Blogger honor and past #2 and #3 slots in the Isthmus “Best Local Blog” category along the way. They’ve dined with local celebrities aplenty (other than the mayor, local journalist Melanie Conklin, law professor and blogger Ann Althouse, cartoonist John Kovalic, and legendary former mayor Paul Soglin have come along on reviews) and filed unpretentious dispatches chronicling hundreds of experiences in a city with hundreds more yet to offer. They’ve also dined with this article’s distinctly non-celebrity author.
The pair take an almost police-blotter approach to even the most scathing reviews, such as this D-/F grade piece assessing the Grid Iron:
4 October 2006: Nichole and JM, finding Grid Iron open erratic hours, decide to go on Homecoming Saturday. Despite signs for $3 brat-and-chips, there’s no food to be had. Plenty of shot girls and Badger fans, though.
As Nichole crosses the back patio, a barrel-chested woman walks up and shoves her with both hands, then staggers off. Given the drinks menu (heavy on the lite beer) JM and Nichole pay $4 for 2 cans of soda, one of which needs to be washed off before it is safe to drink from, and beat a hasty retreat.
Even rhapsodizing about an A/A- place is pleasantly in check and understated, as in this review of the excellent Brasserie V:
The waitstaff was pleasant and very knowledgeable. We thought her recommendations for beer and food were quite good. We’d come back, especially on a weeknight when a table would be easier to get. From the looks of it, Brasserie V stands for victory.
There’s an end in sight for two, kind of: “Right now if we did 6 places a month and nothing new opened, we’d be done in 2011,” says Rasmus. “Nichole was recently asked what we’re going to do when we get to Z and she said, ‘I think we’re going to keep eating.’”
Recent Comments