Fountain City pub reflects owners' Irish heritage

The Monarch serves own brews

Sept. 24, 2006

The Monarch Public House is one of our favorite places for a pint or a dram.

It's a beautifully restored old building with no smoking and wonderful quiet. You can hear yourself think and your friends talk.

Owners John Harrington and Lori Ahl are devoted to their Irish heritage. Fittingly, eight on-tap beers are Irish or brewed in the Irish style.

Harrington learned to pull Guinness in Ireland. Our pints took the proper two minutes to pour, arrived at the proper 43 to 44 degrees Fahrenheit and bore the proper crown of super-creamy, nearly room- temperature foam: a soothing foil for the cool, well-bittered, rich dry stout.

We also relished well-drawn pints of "smiddicks" — Smithwick's — a deep-red imported Irish ale with a thinnish head, a gently smoky bitterness and a generous body. (Hmmmmm. Sounds almost human!)

With the help of Gray's Brewing in Janesville and Viking Brewing Co. in the Barron County community of Dallas, the Monarch also offers its own draft beers. The gold and red lagers are mellow refreshers with low alcohol and mild hop bitterness; the pale-red Irish Ale has a similar profile.

Unfortunately, Fountain Brew, its popular signature beer, was not available during our four visits.

But Fountain Brew is a great story. It was made in Fountain City for more than a century, from 1864 to 1965. In 1997 Harrington and Ahl asked Fountain Brew's last brew master, Wilbert Schmitt, then 89 years old, to use company recipes and his own sharp memory to re-create the original.

If you like Irish whiskeys, the Monarch stocks both the familiar and the rare. We tried a dram of 21-year-old Bushmills, straight, and were smitten: initial cherry fruit gave way to layers of mellow, smoky grain and a long, sweet, slightly oily finish, $8.

The Monarch also makes excellent Bloody Marys from scratch, fresh and mild. Order extra heat if you crave it.

Fine drinks deserve cozy places to enjoy them in — and the Monarch delivers. Built in 1894 as an Odd Fellows' hall, the pub preserves the original hand-carved wooden back bar; walls of rough old brick; wooden floors marked by generations of happy feet; and 15-foot molded tin ceilings.

You can put together an enjoyable meal here, if you know what to order.

Don't get the pizza. In spite of the menu's claims, it's neither handmade nor special, just decent factory crust hand-topped to order with decent ingredients and warmed in a standard oven.

The single exception to this rule is the Potato Famine Pizza, which sounds terrible but turns out to be mysteriously alluring. The crust is buttered, then thickly spread with Champ — Irish green-onion mashed potatoes — then crowned with Cheddar and more butter — for a 12-inch pizza, $13.50. Even though ours came with cheese barely melted and Champ just heated through, no one at our table could stop eating it.

The Monarch doesn't have a full commercial kitchen — just ovens, slow cookers, roasters and a George Foreman-style grill. Stick to sandwiches, therefore, and long-simmered dishes.

The best sandwich is the Reuben: good Wisconsin Swiss, tart sauerkraut and soft, dripping, well-braised corned beef on barely toasted marble rye, $6.75.

A hamburger named I Am Uncle Harry's Burger came cooked through but still marvelously juicy; its topping of Cheddar, green olives, onions and Ahl's secret Bistro mustard sauce was very pleasing, $6.

Uncle Harry's favorite toppings also add a needed spark to a sandwich of tender, hand-pulled, tasty roast beef, $7. The version we tried without such extras — The Original Monarch, $5.75 — had been moistened in beef broth that lacked salt and savor.

Both the Irish Stew and Shepherd's Pie incorporate this same insipid broth and good beef. The stew adds nicely cooked carrots and onions — but you'll be happier after generously sprinkling on salt and black pepper, $4.75.

The Shepherd's Pie is the stew with a cap of buttery Champ that has been enriched American-style with both cream cheese and sour cream, $6.25.

Aunt Lou's Chili is an outstanding bowl of Midwest red, $2.50. Browned ground beef, onions, creamy kidney beans and crunchy corn kernels fill a luscious tomato-beef broth suffused with an unusually rich, round chili spiciness spiked by vinegar.

Grandma Harrington's Irish Potato Soup is also wonderful — but different at different times of day. Our favorite came at lunchtime: a light, silken broth of buttered cream with firm potato chunks, a warming note of garlic and the crunch of green onion. By suppertime, the soup had cooked down into a thick creaminess dominated by the disappointing punch of garlic powder. We think fresh garlic would make this soup a masterpiece.

Harrington tells fascinating tales of five family generations of Wisconsin-Irish tavern keepers. He is the sixth.

For him and his family, he said, taverns always have been about community feeling and camaraderie; they're places to exchange news and views. Good drinks and food are important bonuses.

Main Course, the Leader-Telegram's restaurant review column, runs the fourth Sunday of the month. Diners' Notebook, a sampling of favorite restaurant offerings, runs the second Tuesday of the month.