EDITOR’S NOTE: This piece was scheduled to publish in print soon. Today, we learned that Mother’s suddenly closed on June 22, 2026. In light of this news, we have opted to release the article early as a tribute to the beautiful space and concept that Vanessa Rose built. We wish her well on her next adventures!

In the early 2000s, I worked at Milwaukee Institute of Art and Design. My then-partner, Risë, and I lived on the city’s south side at the border of Bay View and St. Francis. Risë was a devoted meat-eater. I, on the other hand, am what some consider a high-maintenance diner because of my various food sensitivities and preferences. Risë and I used to hunt for the same truffle unicorn: a queer-friendly space where we could both eat well and feel welcome. She was in pursuit of a perfectly cooked hamburger or steak; I wanted vegetable-forward dishes that did not rely on gluten, cheese, garlic, and a fryer to mask a lack of freshness and flavor.

Risë and I joked about becoming a food critic team called Tony and Élan. In this fantasy, we would hunt for and review restaurants based on how well they met our foodie needs while treating us respectfully. Back then, such places were as rare as Risë liked her steak. There were some amazing establishments, and we frequented them, but for the most part we were braving stares at South Side Supper Clubs, or one of us was compromising so the other could get their culinary thrills.

Recently, I was in Milwaukee for an arts event at the Washington Park Media Center, and friends took me to Mother’s at 2900 S. Kinnickinnic. As soon as we walked in, we were greeted from on high by someone seating guests from a repurposed church lectern that functions as a host stand. Admittedly, before eating a bite of food, Mother’s had me at the pulpit. On the way to our table, I took in the quintessentially Milwaukee eclectic vintage-thrift-meets-fairy-grunge décor. The three of us settled in, put our purple cloth napkins in our laps, ordered a couple of NA cocktails, and began oohing and ahhing over the menu.

Mother’s opened in their own brick-and-mortar location in late June 2025, less than a year ago. Chef and owner Vanessa Rose (she/her, they/them), still in her thirties, has been in the restaurant industry since high school. She came to Milwaukee to attend UWM, where she studied history, philosophy, and the humanities. Rose possesses an idealistic intellectualism that is reflected in her approach to restaurateuring. She has worked her way through some of Milwaukee’s most respected kitchens. But Mother’s isn’t just the next step in a culinary career, it is her mission. Her vision for Mother’s goes well beyond what ends up on the plate, though what ends up on the plate is extraordinary.

Queer Food

In the poly spirit, my friends and I decided to share the love and dine tapas-style. I was drawn to dishes like Madera Mushrooms, Tikka Masala Gnocchi, and Saffron Pickled Egg, while my meat-loving friends were all about the Hoisin Pork Belly and Coffee & Cocoa Hanger Steak. After a couple of rounds of elixirs and a bit of “processing” we managed to reach consensus and place our embarrassingly large order.

Our vibrant Bok Choy Salad arrived quickly, chock-full of celery, bok choy, fennel, cashews, dates, orange supremes, nuoc cham, and a hint of sesame. One bite in, and we were all striving to describe the flavors and textural diversity: crunchy, chewy, bright, tangy, sweet. The fennel and the nuoc cham. The dates and the citrus. The cashews doing something structural underneath it all. 

“What is happening to me?” I implored. 

My friend Wes nailed it when he said, “It’s like a landscape in my mouth.” 

At that point, I started missing Risë and fantasizing about being Tony & Élan again.

While I’ve forgotten the order in which the dishes appeared, I absolutely remember the surprising punch of flavor from the pickled black mustard seeds in the Tikka Masala Gnocchi. The Madera Mushrooms in Spanish sofrito cream with chives on crostini felt like a hug from an old friend. A few bites into my meal, and I wanted more out of life. My meat-loving companions, meanwhile, were lost in their Hoisin Pork Belly with jollof rice risotto and pickled rainbow chard, and their Coffee and Cocoa Hanger Steak in sauce Gascogne with roasted baby potatoes and broccolini. 

Our table went quiet for a while, each of us lost in our own distinct yet parallel existential experience. Then, just when I thought I could not get any higher, we split the saffron pickled egg as our final shared communion. The yolk mousse was perfection: not too jelly, not overcooked. Individually, collectively, we transcended. 

“No, no, impossible,” we all protested at the offer of dessert, before quickly conceding to take one to go.

Before Mother’s, and after The White House, the historic bar that claimed that corner of Bay View for over a century, Chef Alison Meinhardt put significant work into the building for a couple of her own restaurant projects. The first, a fine-dining concept, was unfortunately timed with the pandemic. She rebranded and opened Sage, which closed in March 2025. Vanessa Rose, meanwhile, had been finding success with pop-ups at two highly regarded Milwaukee restaurants. Justin Carlisle, who owned Ardent, invited her to use the restaurant for pop-ups during their seasonal closures and offered her a residency in the space after Ardent closed. Similarly, Greg León, of Amilinda, let Rose use his space a few times on days Amilinda did not have service. Pop ups provided the platform from which Mother’s launched in February of 2024. When Meinhardt was ready to sell The White House building, Rose was poised to take the leap. She landed in a ready-made venue, with a tried-and-tested queer cuisine concept already established.

Class Consciousness

Rose is decidedly class-conscious. She grew up in various Wisconsin communities before settling in Milwaukee 19 years ago. Fine dining, as Rose sees it, “is often a mechanism of classism.” Her values manifest in two ways: Workers should be paid, and good food should be accessible to more than just the wealthy elite.

Mother’s has the unusual policy of paying their employees. Staff livelihoods aren’t based on a customer-by-customer performance review. They get paid even if a snowstorm means only a few customers straggle in for Sunday Drag Brunch. Tax and service are included in the prices. Labor costs what it costs. Tipping is not expected but appreciated. In this way, Rose stiff-proofs her servers’ income and takes a strong philosophical stance against a tipping system deeply rooted in this country’s history of racism and slavery. Rose also tends to staff interests in other ways, if she feels it necessary, she will cancel brunch or close for a day to devote time to staff well-being or training.

At Mother’s, Rose walks the line between fine dining and comfort food. “The Milwaukee food scene has a lot of Midwestern sensibility that doesn’t like the showy and the ostentatious,” she explains. As the website puts it: “International and Intersectional.” The menu draws ingredients and techniques from all over the world, blending them in what Rose calls “sometimes unorthodox, sometimes campy, sometimes unhinged ways,” while respecting the cultures of origin. The menu could be called “new American,” a sort of rebrand of “fusion,” a term criticized for disrespecting cultural contexts. 

At the same time, Rose’s postmodern approach reserves the right to take risks and be weird. A customer asking, “Why is my ice cream spicy?” is not necessarily a fail in her book. The food reflects a philosophy Rose has articulated carefully: The LGBTQ+ community spans every country, every culture, every cuisine, so there is no single “queer food.” 

“I say, ‘All cuisine welcome,'” she quips. Her goal is campiness and intersectionality without appropriation. 

Mother’s crafts dishes that know exactly what they’re doing, sometimes winking at you from the plate. Take the “Buffalo Legs” which consists of tempura-fried frog legs, Frank’s buffalo sauce, roquefort, and celery root purée. This is not a dish that takes itself too seriously. Conflating an offering typically seen at a high-end steakhouse or French restaurant with Frank’s buffalo sauce is delightfully cheeky. “Sometimes the food is satire,” Rose explains.

Queer Third Space

Mother’s isn’t just a restaurant, Rose opened it as a queer third space, centered on community building and conversation. Mother’s hosts drag brunch every Sunday and briefly experimented with their own twist on happy hour, “sad hour.” Rose is open to partnering with nonprofits, community groups, anyone who needs a room and a sense of belonging. I wouldn’t be surprised if one day she takes on a knitting club, the kind that moves from place to place and sits and sips for a couple of hours. The moniker “Queer Cuisine” not only signals that the food will be unusual, it also means Queer people shall have an uncompromising experience. Everyone who can be respectful of everyone is welcome at Mother’s.

The building itself is a south side landmark, and walking into it feels like being received by someone who has thought very carefully about how to make you comfortable. The furniture, some of which Rose inherited from Meinhardt, is secondhand; nothing matches, but it all belongs. Rose has described the aesthetic as that of a “witchy sapphic aunt,” and she’s not wrong. Each room invokes its own goddess. A patio is also available when the weather cooperates.

Rose is navigating everything a restaurant owner less than a year in is always navigating. She is also managing a sudden uptick in customers since being named a 2026 James Beard Award semifinalist for Emerging Chef. But she spoke about the future of her restaurant with a self-reflective, grounded logic that portends sustainability.

What Rose and her staff have built at Mother’s is something Wisconsin needs more of. It is first and foremost a restaurant. It is also an event space. But it is more than either of those things. It is a proof of concept. A demonstration that a queer space can be gorgeous and weird and deeply nourishing without centering alcohol, without asking you to perform your queerness in a particular way, without making the meat-eater or the vegetarian feel like they’re making a compromise.

Even though I don’t live in Milwaukee anymore, I stay connected to its vibrant art and cultural scene and go back as often as I can. Mother’s exists now, and that matters, not just for the people eating a captivating bok choy salad tonight, but for every LGBTQ+ person in Milwaukee who needs to know that someone built something special for them. When Rose says, “I conceptualize ourselves as an art house built around a kitchen,” she is preaching to the choir.

The pulpit is waiting. Go get yourself some sustenance.