A Spartan in Badger Country: Our Madison Game Day Weekend

I’m a Spartan. My husband, Neil, is a Badger. So when Michigan State was set to play Wisconsin in Madison this year, we didn’t hesitate to pack the air mattress and crash Neil’s college friends’ parents’ condo. The crew was Neil’s UW friends Jack, Lauren and Cait, plus Nick, a friend of Jack’s from work and, luckily for me, a fellow Spartan. I’m not an alum, but they shared their college town with me, and I was lucky to experience the traditions and a lot of really, really good food.

The steak that started it

This isn’t the first time I’ve been to Madison. A couple years back Neil took me to Tornado Steak House, an old-time supper club in the capital city. He’d been talking up the idea of late night steaks for ages, the best night of the week when the restaurant sells their remaining inventory of meats at a discount.

Well, when we got there, we learned it was the incorrect day of the week. It wasn’t a wasted night; we ordered off the regular (full-price) menu. The prices may have made my eyes open just a little wider, which led us to order a single sirloin to share. We went to order and I half-jokingly asked for the steak to be mooing, and they did not mess around. We sliced in and it was purple, barely seared on both sides. It was one of the best steaks of my life, and I’d been waiting to go back ever since.

Back to the Tornado Room, late night edition

This time, the late night part was confirmed. We sat down at 11:20 and our food arrived at 12:30.

Tornado Steak House was loud, dim, and somehow still a great place for conversation as long as you know how to project. The whole room was adorned with wood paneling, and exposed timber beams loomed overhead. The wait was long because everyone was there for the same thing: the discounted late night steak.

Neil and I both ordered the 8 oz sirloin, rare, because that’s the only way to do it. The steak was cooked perfectly, with a hard sear and a generous salt and pepper crust. It came out on a sizzling plate that kept searing the bottom of the meat. One huge battered onion ring rode the top of the sirloin from the kitchen to the table. It was about the size of the steak, and it brought crunch and sweetness to the plate.

Then the steak fries. They’re usually not my favorite, because they lose their crispness and the potato can turn grainy. These were the perfect version: crispy, well salted, and made with a creamy potato.

Game day morning: spicy cheese bread

We were barely awake on the air mattress in Jack’s parents’ living room when I opened my eyes, squinting without my glasses, and Jack was holding up some round brown loaf. I had no idea what it was, but he was waving it around with enthusiasm so I gave him a thumbs up and he started cutting.

As everyone woke up, they explained: this was the spicy cheese bread from Stella’s at the Dane County Farmers’ Market. It’s a tender loaf with a big hole in the middle, left behind when the cheese steamed during baking and then settled at the bottom. It’s supposed to be bought warm, and it did not disappoint. The heat survived the trip back to the condo to be sliced and shared.

Gotham Bagels: the order I didn’t know was real

I didn’t realize a serious bagel order was being planned for game day morning. So when Jack asked what everyone wanted, I assumed it was for a grocery run to make breakfast at the condo. As a bit, I gave him a sandwich I knew wasn’t possible: a jalapeño olive oil cheddar bagel with pork scrapple, egg and American cheese.

Turns out it was a real order from an established bagel shop, and he thought I’d actually studied the menu. Whoops! He genuinely tried, and spent real time (like 10 whole minutes) investigating.

The group left the condo and took a short walk to Gotham Bagels, where I would discover what was ordered for me. The shop was buzzing on the morning of an 11 a.m. Badgers game. There were crowds of people all dressed in bright red and white gear talking and waiting for their order to be announced at the counter. Mexican music played in the kitchen, and bagels were dumped into wire baskets waiting for their turn to be eaten. When our order was ready, we took it to a couple of benches on the Capitol Square. The market was bustling, with people sipping coffees and perusing the local veggies, crafts and baked goods on display.

Jack distributed the bagels, and I was finally able to review the order he’d carefully crafted for me. An everything bagel with cheddar cheese, egg and jalapeño cream cheese. The bagel felt like a true New York bagel. It was boiled, chewy, with a crusty skin, and covered in a balanced everything topping. Big salt crystals lifted the onion, garlic and toasted seeds.

The creamy, jalapeño-forward spread squished out the sides with every bite. The cheese was melted over a perfectly cooked egg with a jammy yolk and frizzled edges. I was sad when it was gone, and impressed I did not long for a meat to be included.

Something sweet: blueberry cream cheese danish

Walking the market on Capitol Square, we passed the Stella’s tent where the spicy cheese bread came from. Cait and I were craving something sweet, and the blueberry cream cheese danish looked irresistible.

Layers of buttery, flaky croissant dough wound around a cream cheese filling and a spoonful of blueberry jam. Not too sweet, just right.

The best stadium pretzel

“I’ve been dreaming of this for years,” Lauren said as we made our way toward the student section. The closer we got, the more visibly excited she became. She was darting between people, and it was getting harder to keep up with her.

The crowd shifted around us, gradually and then all at once, from a mix of ages to young, rowdy students. You knew you were close when you could smell butter and baking bread in the air. We squeezed through the masses of college kids to the stand and not-so-patiently waited in line.

You could feel the joy radiating off Lauren as she held her two pretzels. I was nervous that all the excitement might set me up for disappointment, but the promise was delivered. This was the best concession pretzel I’ve ever had. It was warm and buttery, with few but large salt crystals. The bottom had a caramelized crust, and the dough was tender with just the right amount of chew.

As for the game itself, the less said the better. It was like the Spartans didn’t even show up, and the Badgers won 31–3. It was a little sad and honestly pretty boring, so at least the pretzel delivered.

Meeting the parents: deviled eggs by request

Back at the condo where both Jack’s and Lauren’s parents live, we were able to relax after the football game and shared snacks in the central courtyard. Lauren asked her mom to make a family favorite appetizer, and her mom came through with her deviled eggs.

I could not stop myself from eating “just one more.” It was clear she had perfected the recipe in its traditional form. The egg white bases were tender and balanced the tang of the mustard within the velvety yolk filling, and a gentle dusting of paprika on top brought back every bit of nostalgia.

Saturday dinner at Little Tibet

Little Tibet is nestled into the first floor of an old house. As you make your way to the back room where the largest tables are, you pass by the small but mighty kitchen pumping out a delicious variety of flavor-packed dishes.

I don’t know much about Tibetan food, but I knew enough to be excited about the momo, their version of a dumpling made with love and tradition. The dough was thick and supple, a perfect vessel for the fillings. The beef momos were deeply spiced and tender. The steamed chicken momo was rich, with herby notes of scallion and cilantro.

The red sauce made the momos sing. Tomato, garlic and chilis, tangy and bright, it cut right through each filling and balanced the bite into a complete flavor explosion.

Neil and I were feeling adventurous and ordered what was called Aloo Phingsha. The menu only listed main ingredients “beef, potato, wood ear mushroom & glass noodle.” That was enough for us to be sold. This dish instantly felt like cross-cultural nostalgia, as it reminded us of a beef stew but in a whole new flavor expression. The aromatics had me guessing: Coriander? Cardamom? Cilantro? Whatever flavors they layered in, they had me craving more.

The glass noodles were a vehicle for the deeply savory and aromatic sauce. The potatoes were super creamy, and wood ear mushrooms added earthy depth and a great textural contrast.

The cubed beef had some chew, which Neil liked, but I would have preferred beef that fell apart (if I were forced to critique one thing about this dish).

A Memorial Union ice cream stop

The night was young and I was craving a solid scoop of ice cream. The group knew the best spot to go. I am a true believer that no brand can make ice cream as well as a dairy facility on a state college campus. We ended up at the Memorial Union on the UW campus. There were big decisions to make at the ice cream counter, but I went with the Mocha Macchiato: coffee ice cream with caramel swirls and chocolate chips. It was super creamy, with a nice balance of bitter coffee and sweetness.

The caramel ripple was loose and saucy. The chocolate chips melted in my mouth without any waxy feeling. The perfect cup, enjoyed on the terrace overlooking the darkness of Lake Mendota.

It was delicious, but I have to stay loyal: the MSU Dairy Store is still superior, and nothing can match the nostalgia of a scoop in East Lansing.

Sunday brunch at Mint Mark

A friends’ weekend is never complete without a brunch moment. Mint Mark is a mid-century modern inspired restaurant with tasteful pink and green color blocking, rounded wood accents and rattan chairs. Mint Mark emphasizes sharing, and because we were with a couple of vegetarians, Neil and I had to carry the team on trying the meat options on the menu.

Chicken fried steak. A deeply fried slice of beef smothered in a dark, savory mushroom gravy, with a sunny side up egg on top. When we cut into it, the yolk drizzled into the gravy, creating an earthy, umami, savory bite. My only critique: the steak was slightly over-fried, which gave it a muddy, burnt-grease note that distracted from the flavorful gravy.

Chorizo burrito. A large toasted flour tortilla filled with pillowy scrambled egg, chorizo, home fries and sautéed onions, finished with fresh lime and a tangy, dark salsa roja. In theory, this was the perfect Tex-Mex style breakfast burrito, but I did have two opinions. First, the onions needed more time, since they brought too much raw bite; if that was intentional, I’d prefer a smaller dice and fewer of them. And second, the chorizo overpowered every bite. I was craving more of that buttery egg to balance it.

Every brunch requires some sort of potato to complete the meal. The Calabrian potatoes spoke to us. Halved potatoes, extremely crispy outside and buttery and creamy inside, with extra cracklings for crunch. They were topped with scallions and Parmesan, plus an interesting tomato ranch for a saucy bite. The mouthwatering saltiness cut right through the richness of the fry. These potatoes were exceptional and were the star of the table.

Why it mattered

UW–Madison isn’t my alma mater. But being brought in by people with deep connection, nostalgia and memories there made the weekend even more meaningful.

For them, it was a walk down memory lane. For me, it was a moment of real appreciation for shared connection and lived experience, through tradition, friends, food and community.

Want More?

This post was a little detour from what you’ll usually find here. The heart of The Alt Table is the stories behind the food we love: the family recipes, the dishes tied to a person or a place, the meals that bring people together. Each month, the newsletter features one person’s table, with the story behind their food, the recipes it inspired, and a bonus recipe you won’t find anywhere else. If that sounds like your kind of thing, subscribe below and join us at the table.