Heading home after a weekend trip to Madison, my wife and I decided to stop in Milwaukee for some used book shopping, pizza and custard. Unfortunately, we found the legendary, massive (400,000+ volumes), and invitingly decrepit—from the outside, at least—Renaissance Book Shop closed on Sundays. A return trip to the equally cavernous, labyrinthine and eclectic Downtown Books, however, confirmed that store’s status as a truly great bookstore, superior in breadth and depth to any of its Chicago counterparts, including the Hyde Park Powell’s and Myopic Books.
While my wife and I take great pleasure in uncovering the many overlooked gems hiding on Downtown Books’ stuffed shelves, our best find of the day was undoubtedly a food-related one—the Calderone Club, a downtown Italian restaurant (just down the street from Mader’s) that has been serving the same very tasty thin crust pizza for over 30 years. Although the Calderone Club cannot compete with the atmosphere of the well known pizza joint-cum-striking vestige of Milwaukee’s fading proletarian industrial culture, Zaffiro’s, its pizza far surpasses that of the latter establishment in taste and texture. Like Zaffiro’s pizza, though, Calderone’s is entirely devoid of pretense—it doesn’t attempt anything fancy, but what it does, it does very well indeed. Aside from its rectangular shape, the most unusual aspect of the Calderone pie is its crackery, intensely crisp crust. So crisp—one might even say crunchy—is Calderone’s crust that many pizzas noted for their crackery rigidity---like, say, Candlelite’s—seem like miasmas of soggy insubstantiality by comparison (OK, that’s probably going too far.). The assertiveness of the crust is tempered by a mild but pleasant tomato sauce, an above average and greaseless mozzarella cheese, and ample servings of a coarsely ground Italian sausage characterized by a pleasing but sharp fennel bite. Top it all off with some finely chopped, omnipresent onions and you have a thin crust pie that ranks with the better renditions found in Chicago.
Upon encountering the Calderone Club pizza, one may speculate as to how the remarkable rigidity of the crust is maintained given its near communion wafer thinness. Indeed, my wife and I debated this very topic even as we happily stuffed our faces. One theory we entertained was that the CC partially bakes its crust before topping it—a method that is, of course, anathema to many on this board. Nevertheless, even if the restaurant does employ such a widely excoriated technique, I don’t think the final product suffers as a result. Next time you’re in Milwaukee, though, give this pizza a chance and see what you think.
Before leaving the city, we made our customary pilgrimage to Leon’s, our unquestioned favorite custard stand in the city, and another remnant of Milwaukee's industrial heyday. Before the Kopps zealots label me a heretic, though, let me say in my defense that I do not harbor an ill opinion of Kopps’ custard—rather, I greatly admire its pervasively creamy density. Still, after repeated visits to Kopps, I have found that its custard is marred by a slightly artificial, chemical aftertaste that suffers by comparison to the honest, “old fashioned” and readily accessible pure butterfat flavor typical of Leon’s vanilla custard. Given that both custards have an outstanding texture, Leon’s flavor identifies it as Milwaukee’s best I’ve tried so far. And on a hot evening, you can't beat its glowing neon, beckoning cruising motorists from up and down 27th St. For the record, here’s how I rate my recent (last 3 months) Milwaukee custard experiences (vanilla is my standard for each stand):
1)Leon’s
2)Kopp’s
3)Oscar’s—the vanilla is way better than the chocolate, which more closely resembles soft serve than custard
4)Robert’s—perhaps a little sweet, but very good texture
5)Bella’s Fat Cat—strikingly similar to Kopps in texture, but suffers from an overwhelmingly artificial flavor
6)Kitt’s—decent texture, but nondescript flavor: I may have to re-evaluate this stand shortly as my taste buds may have been compromised by a minutes-earlier pastrami sandwich at Jake’s
7)Gilles—a classic stand that was all sizzle and no steak; good burgers, though
So far, only Leon’s has been able to produce a consistently transcendent experience while Gilles remains the lone stand to which I would not return.
Random closing thoughts: Milwaukee remains a fascinating city, almost eerie in its not-quite Chicago-ness. If, as one author has recently argued, Chicago provides a “history of our future” via its postindustrial culture, Milwaukee constitutes the looking glass through which one may grasp the repressed, but not entirely forgotten, industrial past in the present. It is a reminder both of the tremendous social consequences wrought by deindustrialization and of the fact that in some urban centers, the new postindustrial social order has not yet fully taken shape, and that the future, therefore, has yet to be written.
Downtown Books
327 E Wisconsin Ave., Milwaukee
Renaissance Book Shop
834 N Plankinton Ave., Milwaukee
Calderone Club
842 N. Old Third World St., Milwaukee
Leon's Drive-In
3131 S. 27th St., Milwaukee
Kopps Frozen Custard
5373 N. Port Washington Rd., Glendale
Oscar's
2362 S. 108th St., West Allis
Robert's
6005 W. Appleton Ave., Milwaukee
Bella's Fat Cat
1233 E. Brady St., Milwaukee
Kitt's
7000 W. Capitol Dr., Milwaukee
Gilles
7515 N. Blue Mound Rd., Milwaukee