If you grew up in the Upper Midwest, you know the smell. It’s a specific cocktail of pine needles, old wood, frying oil, and brandy sweet old fashioneds. J. Ryan Stradal’s novel, Saturday Night at the Lakeside Supper Club, captures that sensory overload so well it’s almost painful. It isn't just a book about a restaurant. It’s a messy, beautiful look at how we inherit grief along with the family business.
Supper clubs are weird.
They aren't just "restaurants." They are community anchors where time sort of stops, usually somewhere around 1974. Stradal, who already proved he understood the culinary soul of Minnesota in Kitchens of the Great Midwest, digs into the bones of a fictional (but deeply familiar) establishment in Bear Jaw, Minnesota. He focuses on Mariel Prager, a woman trying to keep the Lakeside Supper Club afloat while her husband, Ned, works for the very corporate chain—Jordy’s—that threatens to cannibalize everything she loves.
The Real History Behind the Fiction
While the Lakeside is a product of Stradal’s imagination, the pressure it faces is 100% real. To understand the stakes of Saturday Night at the Lakeside Supper Club, you have to look at the actual decline of these institutions. In the mid-20th century, Wisconsin and Minnesota were home to thousands of these spots. Today? Many have been replaced by Applebee's or high-end bistros that don't understand the sanctity of a relish tray.
Mariel’s struggle isn't just about profit margins. It's about identity.
Stradal uses the "Jordy’s" chain as a foil. It represents the homogenization of American dining. Ned, Mariel’s husband, is caught in the middle. He’s a "legacy" guy who actually wants to innovate, but he's shackled to a corporate machine that prioritizes consistency over character. This tension is the heartbeat of the book. It’s what makes the story feel like a eulogy and a celebration at the same time. Honestly, if you've ever seen a beloved local spot get turned into a bank or a pharmacy, this book will probably make you want to scream into a pillow.
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Why the Relish Tray Matters So Much
Let’s talk about the food. Stradal describes the meals with the precision of a line cook. We’re talking about walleye, prime rib, and those iconic relish trays. In the world of Saturday Night at the Lakeside Supper Club, food is a language. When characters can't say "I love you" or "I'm sorry," they pass a plate of pickled beets.
It’s about ritual.
The Saturday night rush is a choreographed chaos. Mariel’s mother, Florence, represents the old guard—the generation that believed hard work and a sharp tongue could ward off any disaster. But Florence is also a source of deep-seated trauma. The novel spans decades, showing us how the "good old days" were actually pretty complicated. Stradal doesn't sugarcoat the past. He shows the sexism, the crushing expectations, and the way family secrets can rot a foundation faster than a leaky roof.
The Conflict of Modernity
Ned’s role in the story is often the most polarizing for readers. He represents the "outsider" perspective, even though he's married into the culture. He sees the inefficiency. He sees the crumbling infrastructure. He’s not the villain, though. That’s the brilliance of Stradal’s writing. There are no easy bad guys. There is only the passage of time.
- Generational Trauma: Mariel is carrying the weight of three generations of women who gave everything to the Lakeside.
- The Chain Restaurant Invasion: The 1990s setting is crucial. It’s the era when "casual dining" started to kill the independent supper club.
- The Midwest Sensibility: That "Minnesota Nice" that masks deep, roiling resentment.
I’ve talked to people who finished this book and immediately drove to the nearest wood-paneled bar they could find. There is a deep nostalgia here, but it’s tempered by the reality that these places are vanishing. The Lakeside is a character in its own right. It breathes. It groans. It demands sacrifice.
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What Stradal Gets Right About Grief
A lot of reviews focus on the food, but Saturday Night at the Lakeside Supper Club is secretly a book about how we handle loss. Without spoiling the major pivot in the middle of the novel, Stradal forces his characters to confront the unthinkable.
It’s brutal.
But it’s also incredibly honest. He explores how a tragedy can either cement a family together or shatter it into pieces that don't fit back the same way. The way Mariel processes her pain through the daily grind of the restaurant is one of the most authentic depictions of "working through it" I’ve ever read. Sometimes, you don't have time to cry because the prime rib is coming out of the oven and Table 4 needs their drinks.
Understanding the Ending (Without Spoilers)
The resolution of the book isn't a neat little bow. It shouldn't be. Life in a small town rarely offers "total closure." Instead, Stradal gives us a sense of continuity. The Lakeside might change, it might even fail, but the spirit of what it represented—the gathering of people, the shared meal, the endurance of family—persists.
It’s a story about the things we choose to keep and the things we have to let go.
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If you are looking for a fast-paced thriller, this isn't it. This is a slow burn. It’s a book that asks you to sit down, order a drink, and wait for the relish tray to arrive. It’s about the quiet moments between the rushes. Honestly, it’s one of the best evocations of Midwestern life published in the last decade, right up there with the works of Louise Erdrich or Lorrie Moore, but with more gravy.
Actionable Insights for Readers and Explorers
If the world of the Lakeside Supper Club resonates with you, here is how to engage with that culture in the real world:
Find an Authentic Supper Club
Don't just go to a steakhouse. Look for places that have been family-owned for at least forty years. In Wisconsin, check out the Smoky’s Club in Madison or The Buckhorn in Milton. In Minnesota, seek out spots like The 502 or Toby’s on the Lake. Look for the neon sign and the gravel parking lot.
Order the Tradition
To truly experience what Stradal is writing about, your order matters. Start with a Brandy Old Fashioned (Sweet). Accept the relish tray. If it’s Friday, it’s a fish fry. If it’s Saturday Night at the Lakeside Supper Club, it’s prime rib. No exceptions.
Support Local Heritage
The struggle Mariel faces is happening to real restaurant owners right now. High food costs and labor shortages are killing independent spots. If you love a place, go there. Tip well. Tell the owners why you’re there.
Read Stradal’s Back Catalog
If you haven't read Kitchens of the Great Midwest, do that next. It provides a larger context for the way Stradal views food as a cultural map. It’s less of a sequel and more of a spiritual sibling to the Lakeside story.
Document Your Own History
The Lakeside thrives on stories passed down. Talk to your parents or grandparents about where they went on Saturday nights. You’d be surprised how many family milestones happened in a booth at a place exactly like the one in the book. Preserve those menus, those matchbooks, and those memories before the buildings are gone.