Sweet Devil in Milwaukee

So much neon, calling me in like a siren.

Breakdown
45 days. No sweets. No treats. Dropped 15 pounds and feeling smug as hell—until Milwaukee happened. More specifically, Leon’s Custard. A temple of temptation disguised as a roadside stand, lit up in enough neon to guide ships home in a storm. It broke me.

Back to the Future
Inside, it’s a postcard from 1956—soda jerks in bowties and paper hats, slinging sundaes with mechanical precision. The crowd’s changed—mostly Latino now, vibrant, alive, ordering in Spanish and laughing like they own the joint. They kind of do.

I tried to resist. I failed spectacularly. The Turtle Sundae called my name like a long-lost lover. Vanilla custard so dense it could anchor a ship, drenched in caramel, chocolate, studded with pecans, crowned with a couple of those unnaturally red cherries.

Was it worth it? Are you kidding me? It was glorious. A beautiful, sticky, unapologetic relapse.

The Barrio
I’ve always been drawn to the unexpected—those cultural pockets hiding in plain sight. Latinos in Milwaukee? That’s not the usual story. It’s not L.A., Miami, or the Bronx. And that’s exactly why I had to check it out.

I headed into the Latino neighborhood, no plan—just cruising past panaderías, taquerias, and quinceañera shops. Then I saw it: a corner dive called Dulce Diabla. Sweet Devil. Something about it pulled me in.

Homebody
Now, I never go to bars like this—no windows, barely lit, jukebox humming in the background. Inside, it’s all grit. Mexican laborers at the bar. Three Latina bartenders—tough, pretty, no-nonsense. No hipsters. No irony. Just a blue-collar tavern, Latino-style.

I ordered a Vampiro—tequila, punch, tajín on the rim—raised my glass and said ¡Salud! to the guy next to me. He smiled. Asked where I was from. I told him San Diego… and Tijuana. Just became a Mexican citizen, I said.

Suddenly, we were friends. Just like that. He invited me to a birthday party next week—Oaxacan food, his hometown. Two strangers, one connection. No hashtags, no filters—just real life.

That moment? It made the whole trip.