Eating in Madison A to Z

Lucky Seven

In a word: An acquired taste.

The specs: #0339
Address, hours & details via Isthmus.

JM ate the large carnitas burrito with rice.
John ate the 2 giant tacos, one fish and one chicken, with an horchata.
Nichole ate the 3 regular tacos, one suadero (beef shoulder), one al pastor, and one chorizo, with an horchata.
The bill was $22 plus tip.
JM and John gave Lucky 7 an A-; Nichole gave Lucky 7 an A.

On the outside, Lucky 7 is scary. It sits in half of a duplex-type building in a non-commercial (and somewhat infamous) part of town, the other half of which was vacant when we were there. On the inside, though, it's an OK if idiosyncratic space. One end of the narrow, dim dining room has a big screen TV, around which were gathered a few futbol fans; the other end is anchored by a large, disused fireplace that evokes a late-model ranch house aesthetic. Life-sized cardboard hotties advertise beer, and you can buy Avon from a glass counter in the center of the room.

We took a seat and moments later a young man, a la La Queretana, brought us menus - full-color, bound, bilingual, and surprisingly deep and useful. The first two pages were the usual tacos, burritos and enchiladas (with more interesting fillings like ceviche, tongue and tripe) but further back, dinner specials, soups, seafood and desserts fleshed out the offerings.

The homemade starter chips were superior: hot, crisp, and multi-layered, with plenty of body for scooping up the delicious green salsa of garlic, avocado, cilantro and onion. Later a red hot sauce came out, too, so those fans of peppers should be sure to ask for it early. The horchatas were on the watery side, but had a nice coconut overtone.  The water was served sans ice.

Of the trio of tacos, the beef shoulder was the least interesting. (Nichole would have had tongue, but it wouldn't be ready until 9 - weird until we remembered Lucky 7 is open until 3am). The al pastor was a little gristly but moist, beautifully seasoned with herbs. The true star was the chorizo. Light, not greasy, it had an awesome smoky flavor and rated an A+ from us all.

John's 2 "giant tacos" were held shut by cocktail toothpicks, a sweet gesture. The fish taco was good, but not distinctively fishy. He thought the chicken taco was even better than Juanita's, his current regular place to get "real" Mexican. Diced and spiced and very juicy, he said it reminded him of Taco John's chicken, which is good because he likes their chicken; though obviously Lucky 7 is the original and TJ's is the copy.

Six bucks at Lucky 7 buys a lot of burrito. La Bamba ain't got nothin' on my head! And there's one size even bigger than this, the "large":

JM's overall opinion was that the burrito was good but not fantastic. His choice of carnitas turned out to be just OK.  Had he gone with the chorizo, the burrito would have been superb.  As it was, it was just as good as baseline Mexican.  (And he did find a small bone in it.)

We've heard Lucky 7 is not a place to try to eat in a hurry - one report of a visit on a 25-minute lunch break ended in frustration. But it's definitely a diamond in the rough, a little place with a lot of promise.

Luckenbooth Restaurant

In a word: Stands in an Arena by itself.

The specs: #0338
Address, hours & details via Isthmus; review at Isthmus; official web site.

JM ate the French toast, sausage biscuits and gravy with an apple juice.
Nichole ate 2 eggs easy with Lorne sausage, soda bread, and a coffee.
We split a piece of raspberry swirl pie.
The bill was $19 plus tip.
JM gave Luckenbooth Restaurant an A-; Nichole gave Luckenbooth Restaurant an A.

If you're going west on Hwy 14 and you pass the fiberglass mouse outside Arena Cheese, you've missed Luckenbooth Restaurant, "the best little restaurant tucked behind a gas station." While it is a bit of a drive (at least $5 in gas), Luckenbooth would be a fine stop on a trip to American Players Theatre or the Shoe Box, for example.

Quiet, cozy, and full of good baking aromas, the restaurant is decorated in bright yellows and blues, with holiday lights on trellises, fresh flowers on the tables, and an art show in progress.

This sleepy Saturday morning seemed the perfect time to start with dessert. The pies on offer included caramel apple, butterscotch, coconut creme, and raspberry swirl. Our ever-indulgent server helped us decide by describing each in detail, which is how we ended up with this gorgeous slice of raspberry swirl.

The pie was as good as it looked. An extraordinarily delicate graham cracker crust held up a layer of not-too-sweet whipped, sugared cream cheese, and then a similar layer whipped with raspberries, all topped with whipped cream and chocolate syrup. It went well with decent cup of coffee (Nichole passed on the special "cappuccino," guessing by the flavors offered - flavors? - that it might be of the canned powder variety.)

Breakfast arrived hot on the heels of pie.  JM's standard biscuits and gravy order was decent without including anything heroically biscuity. The flavor of the sausage base was merely adequate. But the French toast was the star of the show. The rich and deep flavor held its own against toppings (butter & syrup) and never surrendered.

Who knew 2 eggs, choice of meat and toast would be such a feast? When she saw the buttered and grilled soda bread, Nichole was thrilled that she'd managed to order raisin toast without even trying. The bread was biscuitlike as soda bread should be, but included caraway seeds and raisins, an interesting combination.

The Lorne sausage patties, made of seasoned pork and beef, had character as well. According to our server, the restaurant has the local Piggly Wiggly make their Lorne and Cumberland (link) sausages from traditional Scottish recipes. Which we can totally believe, since we heard at least one lilting Scots accent coming from the kitchen.

This kind of breakfast can be found within the confines of Madison proper and Dane County generally, but if you're close don't pass Luckenbooth by.

Lovshack

In a word: If two need a crated 'zone on the side of State Street, then drop 15 bucks at the Lovshack.

The specs: #0337
Address, hours & details via Isthmus; reviews at Badger Herald, Daily Cardinal, Shiv/Shill/Shine, Cap Times; World's Biggest Calzone video on YouTube; photos at Pixelated Imagination; official web site.

JM ate the Backdoor BBQ with cheese sauce and a fountain drink.
Nichole ate the Cajun Zon on firewater dough with bleu cheese sauce and a fountain drink.
The bill was $14.
JM gave Lovshack a B-; Nichole gave Lovshack a B.

Walking into Lovshack is like walking into a frat guy's apartment, right down to the PJ-clad coed in the kitchen. All that's missing is the Blatz sign and the buddy who "spilled his beer" down the front of his pants. Full of single-entendre jokes, Lovshack joins Hooters and Bennett's Meadowood as a place JM was uncomfortable being seen. Not that anyone came in. At least D.P. Dough had coasties.

The dining area was actually pretty clean. Our calzones came out in absurdly wasteful, Amazon.com-sized boxes, a fact not lost on other observant bloggers.

JM's Backdoor BBQ consisted of bacon, ground beef, onions, barbecue sauce, and cheddar that resembled nothing so much as a pita sandwich. His side of nacho cheez was cold (as in, straight from the fridge) which was kind of nasty. The meat was cafeteria grade and he thought the crust was not that good.

Nichole's Cajun Zon of chicken, crawfish, onion, jalapeños, and ricotta actually exceeded her expectations. Opening the packing crate brought forth a nice aroma. The calzone itself was generously topped and held together well. It appears that what makes "firewater" dough special is a dusting of garlic, chili powder, and black pepper, the texture of which can best be compared to floor sweepings in the very best sense of the term. It did add some flavor to a crust that Nichole found superior to DP Dough's.

On a subsequent visit, Nichole tried the "Oh God Yes Yes!" - a chocolate chip calzone - on firewater dough, a culinary experiment that bears no repeating. (She was a titch lightheaded after donating blood, and somehow thought this 'zone would work like Mexican hot chocolate - or something.) It is worth noting that the counter staff-cum-cook was very tolerant of this weirdness.

You know what, though? Lovshack has some things going for it, mostly in the beverage department. Seventy-five cents for bottomless soda can be a plus. Add a 25¢ side of ice cream (a real, tiny scoop of decent vanilla) and you have an adorable $1 root beer float, plus all the soda you can stomach from a 32-ounce styrofoam cup.

Lovshack is the only place we've been with both Coke and Pepsi fountains, and JM, a veteran syr'ple jerk, was glad he could finally mix Mountain Dew and Sprite. They even provide PG-13 named recipes:

Nichole's wrung way too much fun out of the menu. Cooking Lovshack style with the help of supercook.com, Wikipedia and Gourmet Magazine elicited the following combination ideas:

• Burning Sensation: sausage, ricotta and jalapeños
• Sieben Minuten in Himmel und Erde: apples, potatoes, sausage
• Any Room for Me in Those Tagines?: chicken, olives, apples, walnuts
• WSHT in Cincinnati: beef, cinnamon, beans, cheddar, onions on firewater dough
• Schoolgirl By Day and Stripper By Night: breaded chicken, pineapple, green pepper
• The Brazilian: black beans, bacon, burger, ham, sausage on firewater dough
• Lips Like Sugar: chocolate chips and ricotta (shown below)

Finally, Lovshack is slightly cheaper (if less filling) than DP Dough. While it's not a place to take the kiddies on Thursday night after choir practice, or to take visiting UW parents, there probably is something to be said for slumming it every once in a while with thoroughly juvenile, yet strangely accessible cuisine.  But you may feel you need a shower when you're done.