This Remote Wisconsin Steakhouse Turns A Drive Through Nowhere Into The Best Meal Of Your Week
The drive toward Mirror Lake State Park has a way of stripping the noise out of your head. By the time you spot Ishnala Supper Club tucked between the pines, you’re already in a different rhythm.
The log exterior looks as if it simply grew there beside the water, and the lake, still as glass, makes you pause before you even reach the door. Locals insist on arriving early, and once you’re on the deck with a drink in hand, you understand why the wait feels almost ceremonial.
The breeze, the view, the low murmur of people settling into their evening, it all builds anticipation. Consider this your guide to turning that wait into part of the experience, and to choosing the plates that make the whole trip feel absolutely worth it.
Brandy Old Fashioned At The Arrowhead Bar
The room glows amber, woodscented and humming with conversation, while windows frame Mirror Lake like a moving painting. I watched bartenders swap bitters and cherries with a rhythm that feels rehearsed yet friendly, four bars sharing the load when the queue grows.
Wisconsin-style Brandy Old Fashioned Sweet lands perfectly balanced: muddled orange and cherry, soda prickle, and Korbel warmth wrapped in ice. There are other cocktails, but this one is the handshake.
My glass disappeared too quickly, which is the right problem to have before dinner. Tip: arrive near opening for a shorter line, then take your drink to the decks and let the trees do their quieting work.
Prime Rib with Horseradish Sauce
First bite is all warmth: a rosy slab, juices pooling, a shy whisper of smoke. The house rolls and cinnamon buns on the side make a charming pairing with the crisp salad course that arrives ahead of the meat.
Ishnala’s prime rib has anchored the menu for decades, a supper-club staple that honors the Midwest’s affection for big cuts and simple seasoning. The mirror-lake setting gives it ceremony.
If you like a stronger kick, ask for extra horseradish and lean into the contrast. I found medium-rare carries the best texture here, and leftovers reheat nicely if the portion outpaces your appetite.
Shrimp And Scallops By The Window
A faint brininess reaches you before the plate does, mingling with pine and lake air drifting through cracked windows. The dining rooms tier down toward the water, so even on busy nights you catch the evening blue.
The seafood combo comes seared and butter-sheened, scallops caramelized at the edges, shrimp firm but not bouncy. Lemon brightens; a light glaze keeps it Midwestern-comfort rather than coastal flash.
I liked pacing bites with sips of cold water and a citrusy cocktail to reset the palate. Request a window table when you check in; the pager system is efficient, but a view makes the wait feel earned.
Escargot And The Supper-Club Time Warp
The sizzle arrives first, garlicky and buttery with a hint of parsley that floats above the table like a promise. In a room layered with knotty pine and midcentury signage, you can feel decades of Friday nights stacked together.
Escargot comes tender in hot wells, butter bubbling, perfect for dragging warm bread across the plate. It’s the kind of classic that fits this setting without irony.
I was grateful for the small forks and extra napkins. Order it if you’re leaning steak for the main; the richness plays well with a crisp salad and keeps the evening in that nostalgic lane.
Ribeye And Lobster For Two
Summer nights here carry laughter from the decks and the soft thrum of a solo guitarist near the water. Inside, you’ll see platters for two glide past and turn heads like parade floats.
The ribeye arrives with a proper sear and the lobster is sweet, not oversteamed, buoyed by drawn butter. It’s big-deal dining without pretense, the kind of combo that satisfies every table split vote.
I’d suggest confirming steak doneness clearly when ordering; the kitchen fires fast during peak hours. Sharing leaves room for dessert, and the flourless chocolate slice is a worthy closer for chocolate people.
Asparagus Spears And Bread Service
Here’s a quirk I love: the bread basket carries both classic dinner rolls and little cinnamon buns, a sweet whisper before the main event. It’s an unexpected comfort in a fine-dining room with postcard views.
Start with the asparagus spear appetizer when it’s on; crisp-tender, neatly seasoned, and proof that simple technique still sings. The light char and salt snap set up richer mains beautifully.
Regulars snag a bar seat early and treat this course like intermission. I followed suit, and the pacing transformed the evening: snack, stroll the deck, then sit for the show. Ask for extra whipped butter if you’re roll-inclined.
Prime Rib/Shrimp Combo And The Wait
Brisk evenings see jackets pulled close on the decks, the lake turning slate as the sun slips behind the pines. Inside, pagers glow like fireflies and conversations stack into a warm, companionable buzz.
The prime rib and shrimp combo delivers balance: beefy depth alongside snappy, lightly seasoned shrimp. Portions are ample, the sweet potato mash a cozy counterweight, and sauces arrive without fuss.
Expect to wait an hour or more at peak; there are multiple bars and outdoor perches to soften the pause. I’ve had my best luck arriving just before 4 p.m. The reward tastes bigger than the delay.
Butter-Basted Sirloin With Morel Gravy
The sirloin arrives sizzling, its edges caramelized from repeated butter basting and a kiss of oak smoke. A velvety gravy built from foraged morels and reduced pan jus pools beneath each slice, perfuming the room with woodland depth.
House-whipped Yukon mash soaks up every droplet, while a tangle of garlicky sautéed greens adds bite. It’s classic steakhouse comfort with a Northwoods soul, plated with quiet confidence.
The servers suggest a sturdy Midwestern red to match the savory intensity, and they’re right. Each forkful tastes like the forest met the fire, then shook hands.
Cedar-Smoked Walleye With Lemon-Dill Brown Butter
Fresh-caught walleye is laid over smoldering cedar until the flesh turns delicate and pearly, then finished with lemon-dill brown butter. The sauce puddles into nooks of crisped skin, balancing smoke with citrus brightness.
A side of charred sweet corn succotash pops with bell pepper and scallion, echoing summer lake days. A wedge of rye and a crock of pickles nod to supper-club heritage without the kitsch.
It’s light yet deeply satisfying, perfect for diners who want finesse instead of heft. Every bite suggests shoreline breezes, dock chatter, and the hush of pines at dusk.
Wood-Fired Venison Medallions With Cranberry Juniper Glaze
Seared over oak embers, the venison arrives blushing and tender, kissed with smoke that deepens rather than masks its clean, woodsy character. A tart cranberry-juniper glaze brightens each bite, threading forest aromatics through subtle sweetness.
Butter-whipped parsnips add earthy comfort, while charred Brussels leaves provide crackle and char. A sprinkle of sea salt and cracked peppercorn finishes the plate with purposeful restraint.
The result is balance: rustic yet elegant, familiar yet unforgettable. You’ll taste the woods, the fire, and the care. It’s the kind of dish that justifies detours and lingers long after the last forkful.