Mark at Merle's.
We camped at the Nebraska state park up the road -- a small, algae-choked reservoir with neatly trimmed grass, a beach, marina, and a campground packed with trailers, each trailer surrounded by lawn chairs with two, three, or four cars crowding around the trailer like piglets on a sow. Noisy boats did laps on the lake until well past dark.
The friendly fellow manning the gate recommended Merle's: "Everybody I've sent there has loved it."
Merle's is a type speciman of the species "roadhouse near a lake." Friendly, crowded, family-owned for a generation or two, comfortable, and with good food.
We were told that most people at Merle's drink their beer from bottles because draft beer fills you up too quick and "they can't really get those kegs clean inside."