Walk through the doors of Roepke's Village Inn and the first thing you notice is movement—servers weaving between tables, diners circling the salad bar, bartenders pouring amber old fashioneds into faceted glasses. The Roepke family has orchestrated this dance since 1968, and the rhythm feels practiced, comfortable.

The salad bar anchors the dining room like a town square. Watch diners approach with empty plates and leave with colorful mounds of fresh vegetables, house-made dressings pooling in white crocks. This isn't an afterthought but a centerpiece, drawing people back for second and third trips before their mains arrive.

Prime rib emerges from the kitchen on oval platters, the meat glistening under dining room lights. Cut into one and pink juice pools on the plate. The seasoning penetrates deep, each bite as flavorful as the last. Across the table, walleye arrives with a golden crust that shatters at first touch, revealing pristine white fish that flakes into perfect segments.

The kitchen shows equal skill with salmon, whether grilled simply or blackened with spice. Coconut shrimp add tropical sweetness to hearty Midwest portions. Even the fried chicken, with its thick, crispy coating, speaks to a kitchen that understands the fundamentals—hot oil, proper breading, patience.

French onion soup bubbles under its melted, browned cheese cap, the stoneware crock almost too hot to touch. Focaccia bread replaces standard dinner rolls, a small modernization in an otherwise traditional menu. For dessert, German chocolate cheesecake offers an unexpected twist on classic flavors.

Old fashioneds flow steadily from the bar, though they lack the punch you might find elsewhere. Still, bartenders keep glasses filled and conversations flowing while diners wait for tables. Service throughout remains attentive without hovering, servers appearing just when water glasses empty or plates need clearing.

At these prices, Roepke's asks diners to pay for the full supper club experience—the ritual, the abundance, the sense of occasion. The food largely delivers on that promise, particularly the steaks and fish that built Wisconsin's supper club reputation. While the ambiance feels more functional than atmospheric, the packed dining room suggests most diners find what they're looking for.

This is supper club dining at its most straightforward: no pretense, just solid execution of classic dishes in generous portions. The drive to Chilton pays off in tender steaks, fresh fish, and that salad bar—always that salad bar—that keeps pulling you back for one more helping.