Friday Fish Fry
A Love Letter to Church Basements, VFW Halls, and Anyone Who Just Wants Some Damn Fish
Somewhere in Minnesota, right now, a volunteer is unfolding a long plastic table. Someone else is lining up squeeze bottles of tartar sauce and bowls of questionably cut lemons. A crockpot hums quietly in the corner. And a handwritten sign promises FISH FRY — ALL ARE WELCOME.
This is sacred ground — not in the religious sense (we’re an agnostic brewery, after all), but in the way certain traditions just stick. You don’t question them. You just show up, grab a tray, and nod politely at strangers while balancing a beer in one hand a plate of food in the other.
So no — Fulton isn’t hosting a fancy chef-driven interpretation of a fish fry. There are no tweezers involved. Nobody’s talking about “deconstructed walleye foam.” This is our tribute to the VFW halls, American Legions, Knights of Columbus, and church basements that raised generations of Minnesotans on fried fish and community tables.
No frills. Just fish.
We’re not celebrating Lent, per se, but we’ll absolutely raise a glass to anyone committed to eating fish once a week or giving up something they love for 40 days. That’s discipline. That’s Midwestern grit. That’s also a pretty good excuse to gather with friends and eat something hot on a cold Friday.
Every Friday in February and March, from open to close, the taproom kitchen will be serving a no-frills fish and chips — classic Atlantic cod hand-dipped in Chill City beer batter, fried until golden, and served with a side of fries, tartar sauce, and lemon for $18.
Because some traditions just go better with beer.
Where
When
Friday Fish Fry
A Love Letter to Church Basements, VFW Halls, and Anyone Who Just Wants Some Damn Fish
Somewhere in Minnesota, right now, a volunteer is unfolding a long plastic table. Someone else is lining up squeeze bottles of tartar sauce and bowls of questionably cut lemons. A crockpot hums quietly in the corner. And a handwritten sign promises FISH FRY — ALL ARE WELCOME.
This is sacred ground — not in the religious sense (we’re an agnostic brewery, after all), but in the way certain traditions just stick. You don’t question them. You just show up, grab a tray, and nod politely at strangers while balancing a beer in one hand a plate of food in the other.
So no — Fulton isn’t hosting a fancy chef-driven interpretation of a fish fry. There are no tweezers involved. Nobody’s talking about “deconstructed walleye foam.” This is our tribute to the VFW halls, American Legions, Knights of Columbus, and church basements that raised generations of Minnesotans on fried fish and community tables.
No frills. Just fish.
We’re not celebrating Lent, per se, but we’ll absolutely raise a glass to anyone committed to eating fish once a week or giving up something they love for 40 days. That’s discipline. That’s Midwestern grit. That’s also a pretty good excuse to gather with friends and eat something hot on a cold Friday.
Every Friday in February and March, from open to close, the taproom kitchen will be serving a no-frills fish and chips — classic Atlantic cod hand-dipped in Chill City beer batter, fried until golden, and served with a side of fries, tartar sauce, and lemon for $18.
Because some traditions just go better with beer.