Sorry To Inform You
The Fishermen's Inn
Will Not Reopen
Please forward inquiries to
Old Second Bank
37 South River Street
Aurora IL 60506-4172

Wouldn't it be great to be able to go to a place for dinner that harvests trout from its own grounds only hours before you eat it. The trout would not only be fresh but every order would be simply prepared and fileted table-side. An accompaniment to your delicious locavore meal would be the most breathtaking views of rural Illinois countryside through the gigantic picture windows built into the side of the restaurant, a giant renovated red barn. After dinner you could take stroll through the restaurant grounds, among it's ponds and can feed the very trout that fed you moments before.
Fishermen's Inn was something very different to me 20 years ago as a 16 year-old kid who needed a job and thought that a great restaurant like this would be a great place to get some kitchen experience. I knew I wanted to go to college but I thought what better way to earn some spending money than by doing something that I love--cooking. Well, people must have been trying to tell me something and to this day a little part of me asks myself if I should have listened to them. When I applied for a cook's position at Fishermen's Inn, the chef told me I was crazy and asked me why I would to ruin my life by becoming a chef. Maybe he was right? The owners of two other restaurants I would work at before I actually made it into a kitchen somewhere told me the same thing.
So, I did what I always did growing up, I listened to my elders and I ended up doing the opposite of what I wanted. At Fishermen's Inn ended up working as a busboy. This wasn't my time to start in the kitchen I thought but I never gave up and kept my eyes open to whatever I could peripherally learn from about the kitchen and the food. We've all got to start somewhere and I'll say that starting as busboy was an incredible introduction to the restaurant world. To this day, this job was one of the most humbling experiences of my professional life. When I started there it was a VERY busy restaurant. Talk about being thrown to the wolves--that's what happened to me. My very first task was to bring a tray of wine glasses from the kitchen and bring them to a waitress who was buried with tables. Alright, I thought, I can do this. I grabbed a tray, headed to the glassware and proceeded to pile wine glasses on to the tray, no big deal. Except, that is, if you believe that wine glasses should be stacked upside-down on the tray. I headed out to the dining room with my tray of upside-down wine glasses and made it as far as the grand stone fireplace in the middle of the room, turned the corner and watched as every single glass cascaded from the tray and shattered all over the floor and all over the fireplace.
The place was chaotic and I had just thrown a wrench into any semblance of order that may have existed at that moment and knew that my job would be anything but easy. But the job did get easier. I started to get it down. I was fascinated with the way the kitchen worked, the way it smelled, with the ease by which the servers cleaned the trout. I even began to enjoy dealing with the customers. My job as a busboy was very limited and I didn't interact much with the guests but I did as much as I could to "make a difference" in their experience. In fact, I became so good as a busboy that I quickly earned the honor of being assigned to a regular waitress. I saw this as a great sense of accomplishment, I was proud and that meant I could expect a regularly higher payout.
It seemed like I was always learning something at Fishermen's Inn. In addition to learning the workings of a professional kitchen I also learned what a hell hole of a place the kitchen could be. The guys on the line were sweating, shouting and cursing all night long. There was a service bar inside the kitchen itself which I thought was pretty interesting even back then. The bartender was a nice guy who talked and moved at his own, "special" speed it seemed. One night, there things got heated in the kitchen and the chef picked up a steak off a sizzle platter and with his tongs, threw it at the bartender where it hit his bar arm and left an immense blister.
Another interesting element within the kitchen was a bread steaming device that I just so happened to be describing to my wife this past weekend while dining on hot dinner rolls. Not to stray but there's just something about hot bread that I don't like. If bread is fresh, it shouldn't have to be heated up. Unless! It's the little individual loaves that they served at Fishermen's Inn. They were literally tiny, unsliced loaves of white bread that would impaled on prongs that delivered a blast of steam into the bread heating it up. The hot loaf of bread was delivered to the table on a mini cutting board with a bread knife and accompanied by a series of scallop shells that had honey butter, whipped butter and whipped cheddar cheese spread. This was a signature of the restaurant and the steaming machine, as you could imagine, delivered one hell of burn if you messed up.
There was a also a "real" garde manger station within the kitchen. By real I mean, the pantry chef wore a floppy chef's hat and made everything from the desserts to the salads and dressings and the flavored butters. Yes, those same butters that went with the bread but also the dill butter that was offered along side the whipped butter, sour cream, bacon bits and chives that made up the "baked potato caddy."
I had my first "family meal" at Fishermen's Inn. I remember the "captain" aka boss lady, telling me that it was customary to come to work a half hour early to eat a meal. Free? I asked. Yep, free. This was pretty cool I thought. So, I'd come to work and sit with the other busboys and the servers would all sit together, the cooks would all sit together and the dishwashers would all sit together. Some people would sit by themselves, away from everyone else, just like a real family.
I recreated my first restaurant dish while working at Fishermen's Inn, Shrimp de Jonghe. I was addicted to this dish and would order it and pay for it sometimes after work. I remember seeing the gigantic clear cambro tubs of the bread crumb, garlic and butter mixture back in the kitchen and thought about how great it would be to make a recipe on that scale. In fact, I would on occasion, dine at the restaurant, by myself, because I wanted to try some of the things that I would see served to the customer every night. One night, I sat at a table, by myself and ordered the duck a la orange. My server whispered in my ear, "are you sure you want that? Duck is so greasy." Bring it on I said. Or something to that effect. How incredible was this, I thought, a whole half of a duck to myself. The crispy, burnished skin, the tender meat, the wild rice pilaf, I finally got to experience it for myself. And I did, and I enjoyed it. At this meal I also wanted to enjoy something else that I saw quite a few of at the restaurant, a frozen grasshopper. I thought it would be a great dessert. I ordered it and got kind of funny look from my waitress. When it arrived my waitress got a funny look and talking-to by another waitress. That's when I realized that there was alcohol in the grasshopper. Yes, I was a little naive and admittedly, a little dumb. I'm still working on both of those.
Fishermen's Inn was a special place to me. It was special to a lot of people because they may have gotten married there and partied the night away. There was a real Maitre de as well. A Perry Mason type who "walked quietly but carried a big stick" kind of guy. He made the guests feel special and the staff made him feel special so that in turn, he'd be special to the staff. There was a little machine in his office that stamped out the names of every single reservation onto a matchbook with a drawing of the restaurant on it. Every night, matchbooks were stamped out and placed on every table as a keepsake. The matchbooks carried a lot of weight too. If my mom and dad brought one home, I knew that they had had a nice night or had been a part of someone else's.
I went on some of first dates with coworkers here which thinking back on had to have been some of the most embarrassing moments of my life. I did things that sixteen year olds aren't supposed to do and their parents aren't supposed to know about in the parking lot after work with my coworkers who had become my friends.
Like I said, Fishermen's Inn meant something very different to me twenty years ago. Even though, it's closed now, the fact is, it shaped me. And there are things about it that were very special and ahead of its time. I eventually became a chef. But I'm still on a journey. I look back on Fishermen's Inn and think about some of the things that were so memorable about it like being in an old barn, like being on beautiful Illinois countryside, like harvesting its own fish and serving them with the heads still on, like having a real chef-driven kitchen. I look back on these things and think, isn't this what I and other like-minded Midwestern chefs and diners would love to have or be a part of? Could this be like Chicago's Stone Barns or Napa Valley (without the wine)? It's not so unrealistic to think that I could see myself revitalizing the very place that I started at!
Why did it fail? I don't know. I know that it had suffered a pretty serious fire. It reopened but wasn't as successful I guess. It may have undergone ownership changes. I know for a fact that food became "unmemorable" or just plain not good. Of course, the economy tanked and those ripples are often felt more the further they get from the city. But, the restaurant had been around for quite a while when I got there and that was twenty years ago. Restaurants are luck to last 5 years.
But I know a lot more these days. I've not only learned how to cook but I've learned the business of running restaurants, have learned what good food is all about, have my finger on the pulse of what many diners are looking for, understand the power of marketing and getting people excited about something that they can believe in. So, I ask, could a restaurant like this be reborn, modernized and function as a restaurant built around "sustainability" and local produce from nearby farms, orchards and pastures? Is it reasonable to think that if done right, it could be a profitable restaurant that serves its local clientele but also draws a destination crowd from Chicago and suburbs? Would people be willing to travel an hour or more to get there?
It's time for the Midwest to be seen as just as much of an inspiration as other places in America for it's incredible rural beauty and the bounty of good, real food that is produced by generations of it's farmers. If a place like this doesn't have the chance to be part of this vision which I know many others share, then I don't know what does. I don't mean to fixate on this place as if it is the only option for such an idea, just whether or not it could be symbolic of my idea--this big idea that like-minded people share. But seriously, if anyone is interested in finding out whether or not it's for sale and has a similar "ideology", let me know! I'll head out there with you and maybe we'll make something hapen.

just figured out that when I worked there it had been open since 1964 or for 26 years. It held on for another 20 years after that.
http://m.topix.com/city/elburn-il/2010/ ... n-finished