By the time we got to Bishop Hill, it was 12:30 and we were hungry. It was a Swedish colony, so we wanted to eat Swedish food, which meant The Red Oak. We entered the small waiting room and noticed right away it was crowded with people, none of whom worked there.
After a couple minutes, a harried hostess walked in from the restaurant and asked if 
anyone had reservations. One couple raised their hands, so the hostess grabbed a couple menus and took them in. A couple minutes later she was back. She checked a few people out, then asked if anyone needed to get their name on the list. We gave her ours, which prompted one woman to start crying in a loud voice that she was there first. The hostess asked us if this were true and we said yes, but for the entire rest of the time we were there I could see this woman and the others in her party glaring at us as though we’d tried to get away with something. But they got back at us in the end, as you will see.
Several other people with reservations came in and were seated, and several paid their bills and left. It was a hot day, in the mid-90s, and the waiting area wasn’t air conditioned. The hostess, on one of her frantic trips through the room, informed us that a large party was taking up the back room and that, as soon as they left, we would be seated. This large party was on their desserts now, so it shouldn’t be long. She said she’d hold our table if we’d like to wander next door to the colony store for 15 minutes or so.
While my wife and her folks wandered around the store, I set off with my daughter in search of a bathroom. We finally found a decrepit outhouse next to a baseball diamond that wasn’t pleasant but served the purpose. My daughter couldn’t get over the fact that the girls’ side of the outhouse had three seats right next to each other as though three people were supposed to be in there at once.
We got back to The Red Oak and stood around for another 15 minutes while the large party paid their bills and left with much ado. It turned out they were a Red Hat Club, which explains a lot. The other party, the ones who were glaring at us, were also still waiting, and they were seated just moments before us in the same back room. It was exactly an hour since we’d entered the restaurant for the first time.
Again, after all that to-do, I knew I had to order something Swedish. I got the Kottbullar — “Our Famous Swedish Meatballs (a traditional combination of beef and pork) served over Homestyle noodles.” My wife and her dad got Kottbullar with Lingonberries — “Our famous Swedish Meatballs in a lingonberry cream sauce served over mashed potatoes.” My mother-in-law ordered stuffed cabbage and my daughter had a hot ham & cheese sandwich. We were served Swedish rye bread, and I got lingonberry lemonade. It was all very good, and was worth the wait, even with the three people at the next table glaring at us — probably because we got our food about five minutes before they did.
The restaurant bragged on its pies. They were advertised all over the waiting room, they were promoted in a special dessert menu on the table, and they were listed on a sign on the wall of our room. So when our waitress (Lyndi) asked if we wanted dessert, we ordered pie. She said they only had two kinds left — strawberry-rubarb and Dutch apple. We ordered the strawberry-rubarb. Lyndi left and came back to apologize — the last three pieces of strawberry-rubarb had just been served to a table in the front room. OK, we’d have Dutch apple. Nope, the last couple pieces of Dutch apple were reserved by another waitress. We ordered homemade ice cream, and that’s what we got. A few minutes later, the glarers at the next table were given slices of Dutch apple pie.
But I don’t blame them. It was the Red Hat ladies that consumed the normal stock. The story has a happy ending, however. My wife bought a loaf of Swedish rye bread to bring home, and the hostess knocked $7.00 off our bill for being so patient.
Warning — the food is very good, and the staff is very nice, but the place is quaint and cozy and the odds of running into a Red Hat Club are high.