Christopher C.
Yelp
I always make it a point to come to Maricque's every time I'm in Green Bay, and usually on the first night I'm there if it isn't too late (and especially if it's Friday), as the fried perch, walleye, northerns, and lawyers can't be beat.
While the atmosphere at Maricque's is nothing to write home about (dark wood paneling, mica-flecked acoustic ceiling tiles, weird googie-era stonework somewhere), and yes, you might be surrounded by screaming children from time to time, there is absolutely nothing pretentious or contrived about it. Maybe they could sell you more beers if the servers were slightly more attentive to the folks who come to Maricque's for fish, but every time I've visited this place however long I waited was worth every second.
Sure some of the patrons smell so strongly of cigarettes that it sometimes seems like someone is smoking inside the bar. You might not like whatever sporting events are on the monitor and you might not like having to wait a while for someone to deliver you a lemon slice from the bar to dress your fish with. Maricque's is the kind of place that Time Forgot, that you might see in the movie "Fargo," and that retains its originality just because everything is so stripped down and the menu is straight out of the 19th century. And while some folks look down their noses on places like Maricque's because you can't get a mircogreen salad with crusted goat cheese and sherry vinaigrette and a nice syrah to go with your fish, and there is no Sriracha on the condiment cart (there is no condiment cart at all), their ilk missed a few vital things about the place and its style.
First, Maricque's is a very human joint. It's not trying to get a Michelin three-star ranking. It just wants to drink its beer and watch its sports, like 98% of the rest of Green Bay. Screaming children are practically fixtures in bars across the upper Midwest, and usually their nice and practical upper Midwestern parents tell them to "shut up" when they get out of hand.
Second, Maricque's is a bar, and doesn't call itself a restaurant because it's not a restaurant. Yes, when the foodie revolution finally hits Green Bay they'll serve their own house-made landjaeger and pickled eggs or do up a whole tapas or sausage sandwich menu for happy hour, and they might end up with some mustard and malt vinegar floating around the place, but they already provide a homemade tartar sauce with the fish, and that ought to count for something. Plus, all the fish they serve is locally caught, and I would not be surprised if the butter and onion that come with the pumpernickel rye bread (as well as the bread itself) were locally sourced also.
Third, Maricque's does one thing REALLY well, and that is frying fish. Too much other crap going on might detract from what should be going on: beer, fish, bread, butter, onions, and good company. Which brings me to my next point.
Fourth, beer IS the condiment you've been missing, and it's been right under your nose all along. Nothing is more Wisconsin than fried fish and beer, except maybe brats and Belgian trippe and beer, Montmorency cherries in Door County, blind robbins and beer, and limburger/onion/mustard sandwiches and beer. These combinations all endure because they work, and if you understand Wisconsin culture, you understand why beer can be an excellent condiment for many foods (or moods...or moments). Butter and onions are ubiquitous everywhere in the state, and boiling brats in beer, butter, and onions before you grill them is da bomb (and something the locals will teach you).
Last, if you understand Wisconsin culture, you understand why there don't need to be utensils and the only shiny things in Maricque's are the TV screens, the video games, and the flecks in the ceiling tiles. Wisconsin folk don't need all that gobbbledygook--they enhance their surroundings through the use of an ancient yet surprisingly efficient technology: spontaneous oral language-mediated human interaction. It's realtime, and usually there are no software compatibility issues, nor does it require a download from the app store or Wi-Fi.
So what if the scene inside Maricque's on any given day looks like it could be 40 years old and that somehow a rogue time capsule has hijacked and translocated your corporeal being? If you want to taste the whitest, flakiest, crispiest, and freshest of the animals that swim in Lake Michigan, you have to give Maricque's a try. Make sure to ask them what the freshest thing on the menu is, and remember that since the fish are caught nearby, the kinds they have on hand at any given time may vary (lawyer season is my personal favorite, but the perch are ALWAYS good). Sneak in your own mustard, lemons, or malt vinegar if you have to, but enjoy the opportunity to have your frame of reference readjusted so that you start paying attention again to the honest and simple things in life. Beer, fried fish, good friends, Amen. And yes, the unboned fillets have the most flavor.
