Custard is a religion in Wisconsin. It is in the pantheon of all that is sacred to Wisconsinites: Brats, The Green Bay Packers, deer hunting season, muskies, and talking about the weather. Custard? In California, we call it soft serve. But here it can be a transformative experience. Alas Hefner's could be great. But when I walked into the restaurant to order some custard, I was assaulted with a smell that can only be described as dead mice in a wet basement. Wow. Talk about a mood killer. Should you go there? I can't recommend it.
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