Two times round on the Milwaukee frozen custard today. Bookending Klement’s bratwurst. It was a perfect afternoon for ice cream – warm enough to want it, cold enough to let you lick lackadaisically. No need to sweep the skirt for drips.
“What’s that warm, sauer, smells-of-home vapor floating up the street?”, we were thinking on our approach to the Dairy Godmother in Del Ray. Well, whaddya know, Brat Night’s been moved to Sunday this month. Well, dang. Custard now? Custard later? Spin the logic dial and you get… both!
The Dairy Godmother is charming and Liz, who owns it, is clever. Brat nights, sheepshead nights, accordions, polka on the juke box, superlative custard, homemade marshmallows and dog ice cream…. We’ve been there in our pajamas, lured by the promise of free hot chocolate with raspberry marshmallows.
Riffing on the enchantment of dairy godmothers, the juke box is loaded with Screamin’ Jay Hawkins’ I Put a Spell on You, Santana’s Black Magic Woman and other evocative and alluring selections. The keys worn most pale are, naturally, those that spin Richie Gomulken, Eddie Blazonczyk and other godfathers of polka.
Folks poured out onto the street on our return visit. The wait for a brat, I kid you knat, was over an hour.
Amusing wait.
Avec Sprecker. Current selection includes impulse purchase rootbeer flavored lipbalm. I bought two. They are small.
Here is Liz pausing in the midst of chaos atop her million dollar custard maker.
Liz knows her way around a potato, turning piles of sweet spuds into green onion-laced potato salad. Thank your lucky stars, it is neither sweet nor gloopy. Meat or no meat. Very nice. The sauerkraut is caramelly-brown, velvety-tender and elevates cabbage to a height previously unthinkable.
Brats don’t float.
It was wild. Waves and waves of bratwursted crowds, shortage of tables. Run for your lives!!!
Racing sausages? Yes, racing sausages.
The Lunch Encounter 