Friday Night Fish Fry. Beer batter meets Red Wine.

It’s a Friday morning, and I’ve got a lot of people to feed tonight. I’ll be spending a good 6 hours sprinting back and forth preparing for a mere 5 hours of service.

I’m going to need to shred 30 pounds of cabbage for coleslaw.

I’m going to need at least 10 gallons of beer batter.

I’ll need to proof and bake about 500 wheat rolls.

I’ll need about 10 gallons of tartar sauce broken down into 2 oz. portions.

And a lot of haddock, a lot...a very large amount. Minimum 240 pounds of 2.5 oz. filets.

I’ll need to make sure our regular menu is fully stocked, and that all hands on deck have their heads on a swivel...because their coming for us.

If you’re not from the Midwestern United States it might be hard to understand why everyone eats beer battered fish every Friday night...literally all year long, summer included. That’s ok.

I’m a sous chef at a country club in western Wisconsin. We love to serve elegant dishes and cater to our golf members every whim.

Although, on Friday nights we don’t put any frills on, we cater to our greater zip code with the only thing everyone in town can agree with... we all need to have diner together, and it’s going to be a fish fry.

After all, nothing draws a crowd like a crowd. Everyone wants to feel included sometimes. Even in this time of social distancing, when the restaurant industry is struggling beyond comprehension, I’ll be damned if I let these people down.

I don’t care how many take out boxes Or boxes of latex gloves it takes, I’m going to make sure that this ungodly line of cars will get their slice of tradition safely deliver to them.

Our house red is on “happy hour” all night. Glass, or airplane bottle. It is truly a family affair which means parents treat themselves while passing on the tradition of eating together. Beer sells well also, but nothing like our wine. It may seem a strange combination unless you look at what the meal represents. Let’s say there is one night a week that your family will let someone else cook for you. You get an excessively large, and reasonably priced, plate consisting of some coleslaw, choice of potato, fried fish, condiments an a wheat roll. An affordable glass of red wine is the perfect way to elevate your dish and evening.

I may only be in my late 20’s, but I’ve cooked all over the country (nothing glamorous, I promise). I’ve encountered many food cultures held in similar regard.

When barbecue meets tacos on the Texas/Mexico border everyone is invited.

When the Northeaster fish cuisine meets southern comforts in the Carolinas, you know your in a pocket of the country that is all it’s own.

The sheer number of Italian families running third generation pizza shops for their communities I met in Pennsylvania is mind blowing.

Now I’m back in my birth state of Wisconsin, and I couldn’t be happier. The midwestern palate is very stubborn, it’s very meat and potatoes. It’s predominantly Scandinavian, and German. As a chef, the benefit of this is that anything you might find abandoned in a root cellar is fair game. Although it’s about as slow going as you can image to take to new tastes.

That’s okay, because I have time and dedication. I want to be on the line every Friday serving these people what they want for years to come. I also want to be there every time someone asked to have the envelope pushed just a little bit.