A Guide to Wisconsin Frozen Custard
My mother had her places, businesses she was fiercely loyal to and returned to again and again until she passed. Most were related to her childhood growing up in the Milwaukee suburb of Wauwatosa and, in her mind, connected to an idea of Old Milwaukee ways. And many were interlaced with her German heritage, of which she was proud.
There was Karl Ratzch’s, the tradition-rich German restaurant; Usinger’s, peerless maker of German sausages; Marshall Fields, the Chicago-based department store that has a single outlet in the Milwaukee area and was the toniest store in town; Hughes’ Chocolates, a purist candy maker that worked out of the basement of a house in Oshkosh; Stein’s Garden Center, which has served Milwaukee’s gardening needs since 1946; Watts Tea Shop, above the Watts china shop, where a sophisticated shopper could enjoy a pleasant lunch; the Fox & Hounds, a cozy culinary retreat about an hour northeast of Milwaukee; The Elm Grove Inn, which was in business for 150 years until it closed in 2008; and Gilles’ Frozen Custard.
Many of the above have closed, but Gilles’, in business since 1938, is still standing on West Bluemound Road in Wauwatosa. I knew Gilles’ was important to my mother because, even when we lived an hour west of Milwaukee in the 1970s, she would sometimes go out of her way to take us there. My mom would have been eight years old when it opened its doors. I understand how the place would have loomed large in her imagination. I loved Gilles’, too, because when we went there that meant frozen custard. Real frozen custard.
I grew up a true Wisconsin boy, which means ice cream never impressed me. Sorbet was too fancy, and we didn’t even know what gelato was at the time. No, frozen custard was the pinnacle of sweet, summer dairy treats. I didn’t know it tasted as good as it did because it was made with butterfat and eggs. I only knew it beat the competition all to hell. There was no contest.
Custard has been around for centuries. But, according to food lore, frozen custard first arrived on Coney Island in 1919, introduced by New Jersey-based ice cream vendors Archie and Elton Kohr. Kohr’s is still in business. They have several shops along the Jersey shore.
Frozen Custard didn’t stay on the east coast for long. In 1933, it was featured at the Chicago World’s Fair and found its true audience in the Midwest, land of bountiful and top quality dairy products and the people who love them.
There are several differences between ice cream and frozen custard. Ice cream is made of milk, cream, sugar and flavoring. Frozen custard adds egg yolks to the mix. In the U.S., the FDA requires any product marketed as frozen custard to contain at least 10 percent milkfat and 1.4 percent egg yolk solids. (Wisconsin state standards used to be even strictly, required 13 percent butterfat. Wisconsin was so serious about frozen custard integrity that, in 1932, the state government went after various bogus purveyors that were advertising a “custard” product with only 6 percent butterfat as frozen custard. That nonsense was NOT going to stand!)
Another critical difference is temperature. Frozen custard is about five degrees warmer than ice cream, which translates to smaller ice crystals. It also possesses less air in its make-up. It may seem strange to think it, but typical ice cream can be composed of fifty percent air. Frozen custard mix is pushed through a refrigerated tube and what comes out the other end is served or packaged immediately. That means there is little opportunity for air to enter the equation. Frozen custard is dense, smooth and creamy. It is decadence itself.
I ate a lot of soft serve from Dairy Queen over the Memorial Day weekend and, let me tell you, that ain’t frozen custard. It made me lonesome for the real stuff and anxious for my next trip to America’s Dairyland.
If you happen to live in Wisconsin, or plan to visit the state this summer, you’ll have no problem finding frozen custard, particularly if you’re in the Milwaukee area, which is often called The Frozen Custard Capital of the World. If you want to make minimal effort, you could go a local branch of the Culver’s fast food chain, which is ubiquitous in Wisconsin, and has done much to popularize frozen custard. But you can do so much better if you go the extra mile and zero in on an indy operator. Below is a guide to the best places to go. There used to be many more independent frozen custard places in the past—including Don’s, Trudy’s, Al’s, Town Pride and Petroff’s—but these are the survivors.
Gilles’ is thought to be the stand that kicked off Wisconsin’s frozen custard love affair. It was opened by Paul Gilles in 1938. (The name is pronounced "Gill-us-es" not "Gill-eez,” though most people get it wrong.) Paul discovered frozen custard at the Chicago World’s Fair and later hung out at Clark’s Frozen Custard, which is thought to have been Milwaukee’s first custard stand. Five years later, Paul opened a shop at 7515 West Bluemound Road. In 1977, Paul Gilles sold the stand to his longtime manager Robert Linscott. Robert sold it to his sons Pat and Tom in 1992. The business is now co-owned by Tom Linscott and his son Willy. In 1949, Tom Gilles, Paul's brother, opened a second Gilles’ Frozen Custard in Fond du Lac, but it has no relation to the Milwaukee stand.
Paul mucked up the family name in 1972 by selling the rights to manufacture custard under the Gilles name and sell it in supermarkets. Problem is, the recipe used for markets is different from that at the Bluemound location. This confusing situation has persisted for half a century now. The Linscott family is well aware of the disconnect. The website defensively reads, “The bottom line is, if you buy it anyplace other than the Gilles’ Frozen Custard stand at 7515 West Bluemound Road... you're not buying our frozen custard.”
I’m not going to rate the various custards on this post, comparing and contrasting their pros and cons. To me, they are all pretty excellent. But if I had to choose a favorite, it would be Gilles’.
The history of iconic American foods is often the story of a single innovator whose employees eventually strike out on their own and become their former boss’ competition. The New York pizza family tree is like that. The world of Wisconsin custard is no different. Leon’s was founded in 1942 by Leon Schneider, a St. Paul native whom Paul Gilles hired as a night manager in 1938. Leon had the decency, at least, to open his shop halfway across town, on 27th Street. It’s now owned by Leon’s son Ron. At one point, Leon’s was so successful that Schneider opened a second stand directly across the street.
The generous Schneider was known for helping out other prospective custard makers, as he believed that more good stands could only elevate the market for frozen custard. Leon’s is also perhaps the most purist of the stands. It began by just selling vanilla. Then it added chocolate, then butter pecan. And it was just those three flavors for years. Now, there is an additional flavor of the day.
Whereas Gilles’ has undergone many decor makeovers over the years, Leon’s looks exactly as it did after a remodeling in 1955. It was reportedly the inspiration for the drive-in Arnold’s in the sitcom “Happy Days.” (Though some say it was another area custard stand, Milky Way, now long gone.) Employees wear paper hats.
Just as Gilles’ begat Leon’s, Leon’s begat Kopp’s, founded in 1950. The company was started by Elsa Moll, who immigrated to the Milwaukee area from Germany as a teenager, later married Karl Kopp, and then worked at Leon’s. Elsa also worked at Milky Way under owner Art Richter. It was Kopp’s that first started experimenting with flavors beyond the sacrosanct vanilla. Now, all the frozen custard joints boast a crazy variety of flavors.
The stand was eventually passed down to Karl Kopp Jr., who later sold it to the McGuire family. Unlike Gilles and Leon’s, Kopp’s is very much a chain, with three locations and a more corporate, cookie-cutter feel to each of them. But the custard is still very good. The employees all wear a uniform of white shirt, white pants, white apron, white paper hat and black bow tie.
Oscar’s, which opened in 1984 and now has three locations, is even more fast-food corporate than Kopp’s, but it is family owned like the rest of the stands, in this case by Jim and Sue Taylor. Sue used to be one of Jim’s employees. Love strikes often at custard stands. One of the Gilles men found his wife among the carhops at his family’s shop.
Milwaukee is not the only place in Wisconsin that sells custard. Every time I drive to Door Country on Hwy 42, I pass by Kewaunee Custard, just north of the small port town of Kewaunee. It’s only been in business since 1992, but feels like it’s been around much longer. Like most stands, it has many flavors, as well as a flavor of the day. Prices are extremely reasonable. A tip on ordering: get a small cone. It is huge. I have no idea how anyone finishes a medium or large cone before it melts.
Adrian’s is a cute little shack located in Burlington, a small city south of Milwaukee. It has been in business in 1974. It was opened by Jim Adrian who, as a kid, grew up across the street from Leon’s in Milwaukee. He claimed to have spent hours in Leon’s playing chess and watching the custard machines do their thing. In a 1976 article, Adrian said he opened his place because he saw that many of the old Milwaukee places were closing and he wanted Wisconsin’s frozen custard tradition to continue.
Despite the terrible name and dopey sign (shades of original Coney Island imagery), Not Licked Yet, which opened in 1982, is a good place for a custard fix if you’re in Wisconsin’s air-conditioned vacationland, Door County. In keeping with the area’s cultural heritage, there is a Scandinavian theme to the decor. Located right in the center of Fish Creek, it’s also the only place in town where you can see the actual creek the village is named after.
Did I miss any important frozen custard places? If so, please leave a comment. (Please DON’T email me directly with the info. Leave a public comment! Be social! Be a sport! Everyone should benefit from your knowledge!)
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