Frankenmuth Bavarian Inn and the Holz Brücke: Dinner and a Bridge in Michigan's Little Bavaria

Hi, I'm Ino.

After hours inside Bronner's, we walked back out into the August heat and drove a few minutes to the center of Frankenmuth. The Christmas store is on the southern edge of town. The heart of the place — the main street, the river, the covered bridge — is a short drive north. We were hungry, and dinner was already decided before we arrived.

Frankenmuth, Michigan's Little Bavaria

Frankenmuth was founded in 1845 by a group of Lutheran missionaries from Franconia, a region in Bavaria, Germany. They came to Michigan to work with the Ojibwe people and built their community in the German style they knew from home — half-timbered buildings, steep gabled roofs, flower boxes on the windowsills. The town kept that identity through the generations, and by the mid-20th century had leaned into it as a deliberate attraction. Today, Frankenmuth has a year-round population of about 5,000, but draws roughly three million visitors annually. It is one of Michigan's most-visited destinations.

The two restaurants that define the town — the Bavarian Inn and Zehnder's — sit almost across the street from each other on Main Street, both serving family-style chicken dinners that have been the reason people make the drive since the 1950s. We chose the Bavarian Inn.

The Bavarian Inn

The Bavarian Inn traces its history to 1888, when a hotel called the Exchange opened on this site. The Zehnder family took it over in 1927 and began transforming it into the Bavarian-themed institution it is today. The building grew in stages over decades — the glockenspiel tower, the carved wooden interiors, the dining rooms that now seat over 1,200 people at once. The glockenspiel is a working carillon with hand-carved figures that perform several times daily, a replica of the type found in German town squares.

The Bavarian Inn at dusk — the glockenspiel tower on the right, flower boxes on the balcony, and the Fischer Platz dog-friendly outdoor terrace to the left.

Inside, the dining rooms are lined with dark wood paneling, wrought-iron fixtures, and hand-carved decorations that have been accumulating since the 1950s. Near the entrance hangs a large circular oak relief carved in 1978 by the Schnitzelbank Shop — two figures in traditional Bavarian dress facing each other, surrounded by grape vines carved in deep relief. The grain of the wood runs through the carving in a way that paint would flatten and glass would hide. It is the kind of thing that is genuinely old in a building that has otherwise been renovated many times, and it shows.

A 1978 oak relief by the Schnitzelbank Shop — two figures in traditional Bavarian dress, grape vines carved deep into the grain of the wood.

The Frankenmuth Chicken

Frankenmuth's identity as a food destination is built almost entirely on one dish: family-style fried chicken. The tradition goes back to 1947, when the Fischer family began serving chicken dinners at what was then called Fischer's Hotel. The Zehnder family adopted the format when they took over the building, and by the time Frankenmuth became a tourist destination in the 1950s and 60s, the chicken dinner was already the reason to make the drive. Both the Bavarian Inn and Zehnder's across the street serve the same basic meal — whole pieces of fried chicken brought to the table on large platters, with sides of soup, salad, bread, and vegetables, all included.

The chicken itself is straightforward. No complex seasoning, no sauce, no glaze. The coating is thin and fine-crumbed, fried to a uniform golden color that holds its crunch from the kitchen to the table. The meat inside retains its moisture in a way that suggests a longer, lower-temperature fry than the fast-food version of the same idea. You pick it up with your hands. The oil is clean-tasting — present but not heavy. It is the kind of fried chicken that tastes primarily like chicken rather than like its coating, which is not as common as it should be.

The Frankenmuth chicken — no sauce, no glaze, just thin crispy coating and meat that tastes like chicken. The dish that built a town's tourism industry.

The Schnitzel

Schnitzel is the other order worth making at the Bavarian Inn. The German version — specifically Wiener Schnitzel, though pork is more common here than the traditional veal — is made by pounding the meat thin, dredging it in flour, egg, and breadcrumbs, and frying it quickly in a shallow pan. The result is a piece of meat that is wide and flat rather than thick and substantial: the texture comes from the coating rather than the mass of the protein, and the whole thing is lighter than it looks.

Lemon is the correct accompaniment, and the Bavarian Inn serves it with a wedge on the side. Squeezing lemon across the surface just before eating cuts through the fat of the frying and makes the dish noticeably brighter. The potato croquettes alongside — rounds of mashed potato shaped and pan-fried — are dense and starchy in a way that works well against the delicacy of the schnitzel.

Schnitzel with potato croquettes and lemon — pounded thin, lightly crumbed, and much lighter than it looks.

Tip: The Bavarian Inn dining rooms seat over 1,200 people, but the wait during peak summer evenings is still real. Put your name on the list when you arrive and explore the gift shop in the basement or walk to the covered bridge while you wait. Online reservations are available for larger groups. If you want something cold to drink while waiting, the Fischer Platz outdoor terrace is dog-friendly and open without a reservation.

The Holz Brücke

After dinner we walked to the Cass River. Holz Brücke is German for "wooden bridge," and the name is accurate in a way that undersells the thing. The bridge is 239 feet long, weighs 230 tons, and is built almost entirely from wood — 163,288 board feet of Douglas Fir from Oregon, covered with 25,000 hand-laid cedar shingles on the roof. It is Michigan's largest covered wooden bridge and, as of its completion in 1980, the youngest two-lane covered bridge in the world.

The idea began in the early 1960s, when the Zehnder brothers — who owned both the Bavarian Inn and Zehnder's restaurant — needed a way to connect their properties on either side of the Cass River. They wanted something that would look like it belonged to a Bavarian village, not a mid-century American parking structure. In 1977, William "Tiny" Zehnder read about Milton Graton — known as "The Last of the Covered Bridge Builders" — in a newspaper, brought him to Frankenmuth from New Hampshire, and commissioned the project on the basis of a contract written on a yellow legal pad and sealed with a handshake.

Construction began in 1979. Graton used traditional hand tools and Town lattice truss design, the same structural method used in 19th-century covered bridges. The bridge was built in the parking lot on the east side of the river and moved into place in January 1980 — a process that took 12 days, using a pair of four-year-old twin oxen named Buck and Bright, moving the 230-ton structure at a rate of three inches per minute.

The Holz Brücke at dusk — 239 feet, 230 tons, moved into place by two oxen at three inches per minute over 12 days in January 1980.

The bridge is open to both vehicles and pedestrians. Driving across it is the more common choice; walking it is the better one. The bridge carries two lanes of traffic but has pedestrian walkways on each side, separated from the road by low wooden barriers. The walkways are open to the river on both sides through the lattice structure — the air moves through, and the Cass River is visible in both directions.

As we started across, the Bavarian Belle — a sternwheel riverboat that runs tourist cruises on the Cass River during the summer — was making its way downstream toward the bridge. The boat is painted white and red with a blue canopy over the upper deck, and it fits under the bridge with enough clearance to feel comfortable and not much more. The combination of the old wooden bridge overhead and the paddlewheel boat below is the kind of scene that makes Frankenmuth feel deliberate in a way that other tourist towns only attempt.

The Bavarian Belle passing under the bridge — the sternwheel riverboat has just enough clearance, and the combination of the two structures is unmistakably Frankenmuth.

Inside the Bridge

Walking the full length takes about three minutes at a normal pace. The walkway is lit with warm yellow lights mounted on the interior trusses, which glow amber against the gray weathered wood of the exterior boards. At dusk, the contrast between the lit interior and the darkening sky outside the lattice openings is sharp enough that the bridge feels like its own enclosed world for the time it takes to cross it.

The floor is white oak planking, laid green and allowed to cure in place — 2,250 eight-inch nails hold the boards down. The wood flexes slightly underfoot, not alarmingly but noticeably, with a dull sound that is different from pavement. The smell inside is river air and old wood, both present at once. The truss structure — a Town lattice pattern of diagonal members, bolted at each intersection — lines both sides and the overhead, creating a repeating geometry that draws the eye toward the far end of the bridge even before you can see through to the other side.

Inside the Holz Brücke at dusk — amber lights on the lattice trusses, river air through the open sides, and white oak planking that flexes slightly underfoot.

Tip: Walk the bridge after dinner rather than before — the warm interior lights are only visible once the daylight has faded enough to create contrast. In full afternoon sun, the interior looks washed out. At dusk or after dark, it looks the way it does in the photograph above.

Ino's Practical Tips for Frankenmuth

Getting there
Frankenmuth is about 90 miles north of Detroit and 25 miles south of Saginaw, just off I-75 at exit 136. It is a straightforward drive from most of Michigan's lower peninsula. From Bronner's, the town center is about five minutes north on Main Street.

Bavarian Inn reservations
The restaurant seats over 1,200 people and operates throughout the day, but summer evenings fill up. Reservations are recommended for groups; walk-ins are generally possible but expect a wait during peak hours (6 to 8 pm on summer weekends). The family-style chicken dinner is the signature — everything comes with it. Individual items like schnitzel can be ordered separately from the à la carte menu.

The Holz Brücke
Free to cross on foot or by vehicle. The pedestrian walkways on each side are the better option — the views of the river are blocked from inside a car. The bridge is open year-round. Evening visits are recommended over daytime ones for the lighting effect inside.

The Bavarian Belle
The sternwheel riverboat runs 45-minute narrated cruises on the Cass River from late May through early October. Departures are from the dock beside the bridge. Tickets are available at the dock; no advance reservation required for most sailings.

Wrapping Up

Frankenmuth is a town that has been playing the same hand for a long time and playing it well. The chicken dinner has been the reason to visit since 1947. The covered bridge has been the thing to walk across since 1980. Neither has changed significantly, and neither needs to. The Bavarian Inn is not trying to be something new — it is trying to be exactly what it has always been, well, every day, for the people who make the drive.

That consistency is what makes Frankenmuth a satisfying stop rather than a disappointing one. You arrive knowing what you're going to eat and roughly how the evening is going to unfold. The surprise is in the details: the 1978 oak carving by the door, the temperature of the oil in the chicken, the way the bridge floor moves underfoot, the Bavarian Belle fitting under the bridge with just enough clearance. Those things don't show up in the brochure. They're the reason to go in person.

Michigan had been full of that kind of detail from the beginning — the emerald spring you can only understand by being on the raft above it, the amber waterfall that photographs well but sounds like nothing else. Frankenmuth fits the pattern. It rewards showing up.