Prime Dining
Michael’s House of Prime in Pewaukee is branching out with modern dishes while keeping classics.
For a restaurant that exists because of fond memories, Michael’s House of Prime in Pewaukee does more than look backward. It shows flashes of a modern outlook.
Its owners, brothers Rick and David Buckley, in late 2016 bought the handsome Arts-and-Crafts-era building, which stands across the road from Pewaukee Lake’s southern shore. It was on the market, its owner wasn’t finding a buyer who’d carry on the tradition, and they feared it would become something very different — or demolished.
“We had been eating here since we were little kids; our parents brought us here,” Rick Buckley said. They continued to dine there as adults.
The Buckleys made sensitive updates to the interior, keeping the charm, like casement windows in the sunroomlike main dining area and a wooden balustrade on the second floor over the bar. Not surprising, since the brothers even kept the restaurant’s name.
But they lightened it up, painting the dark rec-room-style paneling white; it’s decidedly more of a lakeside look. They decorated the dining room and bar tastefully with black-and-white photos of sailboats in black frames and with framed artifacts, such as early 1900s postcards and the architect’s rendering of the building, long before it was Michael’s House of Prime, drawn in color.
If a restaurant is going to be named for prime rib, the roast had better be a good one. And the prime rib at Michael’s is among the best.
It’s everything a meat lover wants from prime rib: well-seasoned beefiness, a good crust, tenderness and meat that’s well-trimmed. The roast is cooked on the bone for fuller flavor, something not every prime-rib restaurant does.
The prime rib can be had in three sizes, 20 ounces ($38), 28 ounces ($47) or 56 ounces ($79). Fifty-six ounces? Yes, people do order it, the server indicated. The price isn’t a la carte, a rarity — warm bread, from-scratch soup or a salad, a choice of potato (baked was reliably light) or the day’s vegetables or pasta are included.
The 20-ounce cut was plenty (and also looked bigger than 20 ounces, to my eye). And if you take the rest home, even if it’s just the bone for a certain big-eyed someone, it’s wrapped up in a wonderfully retro doggy bag.
Of course, Michael’s has steaks, like a notable bone-in ribeye ($49 for 24 ounces) with great texture and flavor, and seafood, separately or combined with beef. Classic. But the restaurant gets up to date with its composed plates.
One not to miss is the fried chicken ($23). The plate is a tender confit leg that’s coated and crisped, served with mac and cheese and house-made cucumber and red-pepper pickles, an ideal foil for all that richness. What a delicious plate.
The pork tenderloin ($30) combines smart flavors and textures, too. The pork tasted lightly cured, a little hammy (it’s brined in apple cider). With it, crisped little potatoes in their jackets, with cherries and radicchio, a little sweet and bitter — a smart, unexpected and thoroughly appealing combination.
The composed entrees aren’t without their throwback plates, and they include one of my favorite things, veal liver and onions ($28); the liver, though, was overdone, one of my least favorite things. On Fridays, Michael’s has fish fry, with ramekins of potato salad and slaw to share; the fish itself is very good, the bluegill ($18) especially, but the batters and breadings all were shy of salt.
Prime rib has to be a major draw here, but a table could make a shared meal from appetizers, especially on hot summer nights when an entire entree isn’t what you’re pining for. (That includes the salads, like one of mango, raspberry and greens at $11, with creamy cucumber-cilantro dressing and sunflower seeds, a happy combination.)
Those delicious plates by chef Erik Hyslop — who worked in Steamboat Springs, Colo., before returning home to Wisconsin — are where things really get interesting. The PB&J ($15) here is luscious pork belly, biscuits and jam, each good on its own but terrific together. Squid is almost always fried, but not here; it’s sauteed in an herbed breading and served over a pool of robust tomato sauce.
A number of plates look east for flavors. Use the bread that comes with Thai mussels ($15) for soaking up a broth that sings with lemongrass, red curry, coconut milk and makrut lime. Tender, rich nuggets of oxtail ($19) are red-braised, the Chinese technique that combines aromatics like ginger with soy sauce and more; here it meets Korean kimchi and a house hot sauce on the side, and all is harmony.
Among the things that I gather haven’t changed much at Michael’s is the reservation system. My predecessor complained in 1995, the last time the restaurant was reviewed, about waiting 35 minutes for his table in spite of a reservation. My wait wasn’t as long — 25 minutes on a Friday, 20 minutes on a Saturday, with reservations. Depending on your mood or hunger level, you could accept the wait in the bar (cheek by amiable jowl one Saturday) as part of the restaurant’s quirky charm and appreciate the time to unwind over a drink, or it might annoy you. Just be prepared, in case, and go with people you like, or try it on a quieter night.
Service was relaxed and warm, which definitely fits the restaurant, and generally was on the mark. It also could be scattered. One night bread was forgotten; another night, it was the crackers and spreads (one is addictive ham, the other, sharp cheddar). Plenty of restaurants no longer offer bread, and even more of them don’t bring you a gratis spread, so it does feel odd to complain.
It feels right to grouse, though, about one server’s asking what we’d like for dessert when not everyone was at the table, as if to move us along. I enjoy issuing dictatorial fiats in general and about dessert in particular, but asking everyone
would be more hospitable.
That dessert menu weaves in nods to the past, too, with supper-clubby classics such as ice cream drinks, called adult milkshakes here (”priceless,” the menu says, but really $10.50) and schaum torte towering with ice cream, whipped cream and mixed berries ($8).
There’s a dessert called the, ahem, Dirty Girl Scout ($9): smooth mint pudding in a jar, topped with whipped cream and the “dirt” in question, a profusion of chocolate cookie crumbs ($9). The pudding was well-made, so on a different night, lumpy crème brûlée ($8) came as a surprise. An off night for the crème, maybe.
Trying to combine retro and modern sensibilities could come off as contradictory, but past and present co-exist well here. The Buckleys were right; Michael’s was a place worth saving, especially with the changes they’ve made.
Look for Carol Deptolla’s restaurant news column, Side Dish, in Friday’s Weekend Tap section. Contact her at (414) 224-2841, carol.deptolla@jrn.com or on Twitter, @mkediner.