Myles Teddywedgers, 101 State St., is the lynch pin and canary of State Street and the Capitol Square. When State Street meets its eastern end, the pie shop offers a transition from the filler-food offerings common on the 500 and 600 blocks of State Street to the sit-down-and-take-your-time ambience you'll see on the Square. Also, like a bird in a mineshaft, Myles Teddywedgers indicates the overall business health of the surrounding area.
As one of the triangle shops jutting toward the Capitol, Teddywedgers is small and cozy but has plenty of quirks and nuances to give State Street dining the eclecticism it needs. Its offerings, Cornish pasties, are hard to find and the environment is even more rare. With the Capitol looming just outside the front door and plenty of local characters no more than a few feet away, it features one of the strangest mixes of clientele the downtown has to offer.
In the course of an average hour, homeless people, construction workers and politicians will pass through its doors.
Because the food is always hot enough to make it to either Memorial Union or James Madison Park, customers cover every class and degree of hunger. Of course, satisfying hunger is what Teddywedgers does best.
Before I continue, I must admit I'm a bit biased toward the store, because I worked there for a little over four months and enjoyed every day of it. Typically, when somebody sees the same food for days on end they'll reject it out of overexposure. For as many pasties as I've seen, as many customers as I've encountered and for all the times I mopped its very small floor, I can't say I've ever had a moment of ill will toward the place. In this case, familiarity made me fond of Teddywedgers.
Sorry if the word \Teddywedgers"" seems a little bulky, and you're wondering what exactly a pasty (rhymes with nasty, but is really tasty) is and what ""Cornish"" means. A pasty is similar to a pot pie or meat pie. It's a whole pile of ingredients mixed together and stuffed in a thick, bread-like wrapping. Cornish means it came from Cornwall, England, a mining district owner Myles Allen calls his homeland.
The history of teddywedgers (simply another word for pasty) goes back to the miners. As the story goes, miners' wives would cook up pasties in the morning and give them to their husbands for the long day ahead of them. Those pasties had thicker bread wrappings than what you'll see at Teddywedgers because they needed to stay warmer longer.
Because they were made with hearty ingredients-mainly meat, potatoes and onions-they were a perfect meal for hardworking men in the mines. Myles' pasties preserve the original product and offer some innovations. The menu features five main pies, with lunch specials depending on the day of the week.
The standard menu has ground beef and top-layer steak as numbers one and two, respectively. Both are like the originals, bountiful in potatoes and onions, but could use a bit of ketchup to make them go down easier.
The most popular pasty, the big cheesy, oozes with mozzarella cheese, pizza sauce and ground beef. The vegetarian option, the veggie wedgie, replaces the beef with green peppers, tomatoes and mushrooms. The number five, the chicken pie, has white cream sauce, peas, corn, carrots and plenty of chicken.
There are also daily specials if you're looking for something a little more exotic. Monday and Wednesday offer barbeque chicken pies. Tuesday's special is the super pizza pie, with pepperoni and ground beef, and Thursday adds pepperoni to the big cheesy. The strangest pasty, the salmon pie, rounds out the week on Friday.
The pies come in two sizes because rational human beings shouldn't be eating full pasties. One whole pie can cast shadows over small cities and dominate every dimension it occupies. Even a half pie, with prices between $3.10 and $4.20, humbles most customers. I will admit that I can down a full pie, but that's because I've had some practice with them.
Back when I used to work at Teddywedgers, I would eat for free (and somehow the place is still in business) and had everything on the menu (though not in one day). The boss, Myles, didn't mind if I had a few cookies before the night was out. A hungry employee is the least of his challenges at 101 State St.
Myles has been there for 20 years and did business for eight years at 855 E. Johnson St. before that. On State Street he's weathered difficulties from McDonald's, Overture and street construction and still come out ahead. He's a persistent man when it comes to moving his pies and stubborn when it comes to staying in business. He, like the downtown and State Street, has shown resilience through two decades of change. Because, not despite, of it all, Myles Teddywedgers is going strong.
blschultz@wisc.edu.
