Let’s talk about cycling. Slow down, don’t get all excited… not ME cycling. Other people doing it. Specifically, my family.
So I’ll start this story by trying to help paint a picture of how important cycling is to my family. I was conceived in August 1983 on the Elroy Sparta Bike Trail in Wilton, WI while my mom and dad were on a bike trip. No lie. Not sure of the logistics, but maybe it was even on a bike? No, that would be impossible. But they were much younger then? Ok, that’s all the brainpower I will put into thinking about my conception. Enjoy the mental picture.
Too soon? I thought about it being too soon, but I feel so strongly about Kopps that I’m sure I’ll blog about it again when I have millions of followers, but for now, we will keep it as an intimate conversation amongst friends.
Kopps. A magical land of Cheeseburgers, Custard, and WTF Architecture. Which is the best kind.
For those of you who are not aware, Kopps is an iconic Milwaukee establishment. Elsa Kopp was the woman who started it all back in 1950, and to this day, each of the 3 locations has a picture of her in a frame where everyone ordering can see and pay their homage to the woman who made this unique dining experience possible.
Where do we start? I suppose we start with the cheeseburger, no? Now, I’m going to make a strong statement here, but you need to remember I’ve been to 38 countries so I’m not making an uneducated declaration.
Best Cheeseburger In The Entire World.
Ok, I said it. Now, I knew you were going to ask why. A few things that come to mind.
Ratio. The meat to cheese to bun to condiments is perfection. You don’t taste all meat, there’s no need to leave some bun behind, you don’t crave more cheese… you literally just feel satisfied.
Cheeseburger with the Works from Kopps
Condiments. You’re ordering it with The Works or you’re a square. I mean, do whatever you want, I don’t care, but ketchup, brown mustard, fried onions and relish is the jam. Do that.
Toasted Bun. They have somehow scientifically figured out how to toast the side of the bun that faces your meat so perfectly while leaving the holdy part soft and supple. Butter. That may have something to do with it.
Price. Yeah, I’m going to go there. $5.75 for a 6 or 7 inch masterpiece? I don’t normally give any shits about saving money, but folks, this is a deal.
We’ve talked about the burger, but there are some other things that really complete the experience.
Weird ass architecture. I mean, you have 3 locations to sit at and eat your burger and ponder. “Who did this? Why? Whats up with the weird garden of stumps? What’s up with these benches with cracks in the middle? Why is there so much stainless steel? Is there a garden inside this place? Why is there only one black cow?” I mean, the list goes on.
Everyone eating their food by the waterfall on cracked cement benches at the location in Greenfield on Layton
Unusual ordering process. I mean, it’s almost like you must have the secret password to get in. You order the food here, not the custard, but yes the custard if it’s complicated, but you pick up the stuff on the color, or you get it right away? Whatever. Try to go with a veteran your first time who can break it down for you. (Pick me! Pick me!)
Custard. That brings us to the custard. Don’t act like there’s an argument between custard and ice cream. Just admit it’s custard and that you have The Flavor Forecast saved in the favorites on your phone.
The People. No, I’m not talking about the polite teens on the other side of the counter, I’m talking about your peers. The many, and by many, I mean many, people just like you standing around, holding their ticket, waiting for their number to be called. Everyone knows. It’s like, everyone looks at each other and nods slightly with a soft knowing smile on their face. They know. You know. You’re at Kopps.
Chances are if you’ve visited me in Milwaukee, I’ve brought you to Kopps. One of the 3 locations. We’ve casually eaten our cheeseburgers in an indoor garden, next to a waterfall on a cement bench, or while staring at some cows. And you loved it. And it wasn’t what you expected. And it was delicious. And it was cheap. And you’ve gone home and told all your friends about it because it’s the ipedime of Milwaukee. It’s chill, inexpensive, unique, unexpected, diverse, a little confusing, immediately comfortable, and friendly. It’s Milwaukee.
Chances are if you come visit Milwaukee, you’re going to Kopps. Unless your friends who live here don’t like you. In that case, look me up, I’ll take you. But only if they have one of my favorite flavors that day.*
Lisa
*Favorite Flavors Include:
Tiramisu
Grasshopper Fudge
Cherry Amaretto Cheesecake
Turtle Sundae
…just kidding, I would go any day of the week. Don’t forget about the Shake of The Month or the Sundae of the Month.
I know you think I’m this crazy risk taking daredevil because of all the adventures I go on, but I’m going to have to break it to you. I’m a big wuss. Skydiving? Nope. Not a chance. Riding in a convertible? No way. The only time I did, I wore a helmet. Motorcycle? Heck no, are you crazy?
I stepped out of my box this week. Big time. My friend and I got our butts in gear the other day and went to the gym and got super swoll. To reward ourselves (because that’s totally rational behavior after going to the gym for the first time in months), we walked up to this really cool patio at a local favorite hotel to eat salads and drink rose. (#basic)
The hotel is called “The Iron Horse” which is a beautiful hotel/bar/restaurant/patio in Milwaukee’s Walkers Point neighborhood. One of the things that make it unique is that it’s a biker hotel. A super classy biker hangout. Right next to the Harley-Davidson Museum. I also LOVE that they allow dogs inside and out, which allows me to bring Sushi, because girl loves her some patio people watching.
Whilst enjoying our rose, light salads and avocado toast, we made friends with a couple of WONDERFUL, very kind Canadian guys our age who were visiting Milwaukee on a bike ride from their hometown. (By bike, I mean Harley. I’m becoming fluent in biker speak, so bear with me while I use my new vocabulary)
You know what’s coming. They invited us to go riding with them the next day. I politely declined by stating that I didn’t have a helmet. My biker buddy magically had brought a second helmet with him. (Objection, denied.)
Couldn’t sleep the night before I was so stressed. Tried to wuss out again by saying we could cancel when they said they were going to be running a little late. Nope, objection denied.
The guys came to pick us up, and I was literally shaking I was so scared. I finally relaxed a little when my biker buddy got super bossy with me and said, “since this is your first time on a bike, I’m going to lay down the ground rules for both of our safety.” Rules? Yes. Now we’re talking. Structure. Give em to me.
Feet are always on the pegs. No exceptions.
I’m going to give the bike a little rev as a warning to you that we are about to leave a red light and that’s when you hold on tight.
When we turn, lean with me, don’t fight it.
I’m going to tap your leg as a warning if I’m going to pass a car.
Only get on the bike from the right side.
So off we went. With me squeezing the living daylight out of my biker buddy from behind like a koala baby trying to kill their mother.
It. Was. Awesome.
Let me tell you, I give the same Milwaukee Tour to every out of town guest I entertain, but this one was amazing.
They tried to talk me into the freeway on the way back, but I wussed out and asked to go back the same way. FOMO. Totally regret it and now wish I would have just embraced the exhilarating journey.
Got lost a little on the way back, found out bikes don’t have reverse when I balked on my directions in the middle of an intersection (whoops), but in general, our bike buddies also said they had a great experience with hotties on the back of their bikes giving them personalized tours of Milwaukee with custom directions.
I’m going to 100% recommend that everyone experience this. It was a beautiful night, smooth ride, fresh air galore, power beneath you, and very freeing. It will be hard to get into my confined iron box car today I’m sure.
They tell me I now qualify as an “ol lady” (biker speak again, sorry, I’m just so hip on the language now, you know?)
