The Buckhorn Supper Club, Milton

The Buckhorn Supper Club, Milton, Wisconsin

Rating: 4.5 out of 5 Old Fashioneds

Relish Tray: nope
Ice Cream Drinks: available
Price Range: entrees range from about $22 to $50+
Ambiance: lakeside with lots of history, decor and red twinkle lights

The Buckhorn Supper Club is a special place. It ticks a lot of the boxes on our ideal supper club list: lakeside, woodsy, plenty of Packers memorabilia, a dark interior with a view, strands of red twinkle lights, and 80+ years of history. It even has some things I didn’t know I wanted in a supper club, like stuffed-animal birds and striped wallpaper and even an arcade table. But the best thing about the Buckhorn is the out-of-this world, delicious food.

Per usual, we got to the Buckhorn nice and early. We had a couple quick sips of our very boozy old fashioneds in the bar area, but got seated pretty much right away. From what we saw, the bar area was perfectly charming, with bold striped wallpaper and Wisconsin sports, fishing or lobster-related memorabilia stuffed into every crevice. I particularly enjoyed the Packers Beanie Babies stung above the window.

To be totally honest, we didn’t have great service while we were at the Buckhorn. We came on a Saturday, not realizing the place would soon be full of post-Camp Randall Badgers fans. Owen and I like to really take our time at a supper club, and we could sense that the server was annoyed that we didn’t remember the specials, or know what we wanted to order when she first stopped by our table to check on us. We also were a little surprised by the prices. The Buckhorn is not cheap, like $15-for-onion-rings-not-cheap. By the time we ordered our food, we were both feeling a little crabby from the service and the prices.

However, it’s clear that the Buckhorn is going above and beyond in the kitchen. When we did ask to hear the specials again, all of them sounded incredibly interesting and tasty, and noticeably bold for a traditional supper club. The menu at the Buckhorn is pretty much what you’d expect: prime rib, steaks, seafood. Sure, there’s no relish tray, but the food was some of the best we’ve had at a supper club.

Nestled in the bread basket was a little friendly dollop of beer cheese spread, made in-house. Just saying the words “beer cheese” together can make a person feel heavy, but this was whipped to a light and fluffy perfection.

Owen had a side salad with his meal. It came with a nice mix of iceberg lettuce and spring mix, and his go-to bleu cheese dressing had plenty “funkiness” coming through – a high compliment from Owen.

The true highlight of the meal – the highlight of the whole evening, probably the highlight of that whole week – was my french onion soup. I have thought about this soup at least once a day since we visited. If the rest of the meal had been a disaster, the Buckhorn would still have a spot in my heart for this luscious, beautiful french onion soup. It was so rich, so dark in color, and so pleasantly sweet – it was almost french onion caramel. Eating it, I felt guilty that Owen hadn’t ordered it as well (but not guilty enough to share).

When our entrees were served, there was a billow of steam coming off of them. Owen had the prime rib with mushrooms, and I tried the broasted chicken. A heaping pile of mushrooms and a lake of au jus really sang on Owen’s tender prime rib. His baked potato was served most appealingly, with an orange and kale garnish.

My broasted chicken was some of the best I’ve had. The garlic mash certainly delivered on the “garlic” promise, with lovely potato skins and a perfect chunky texture.

Observing our fellow diners, we noticed that we seemed to be the only non-regulars. I saw a diner hug a server, watched a fellow at the table next to ours recite his order, sides and all, without even opening his menu, and almost every group stopped by the hostess stand to chat on their way out. I’m going to guess that we were the only ones who felt like the service was less-than-ideal, and I bet that it was just an off-moment for our server. Another night, we might have been hugging at the end of our meal too. Next time, maybe when we stop by for one of the Buckhorn’s famous lobster boils. Until then, I’ll just dream about that french onion soup.

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