You Can't Be Neutral About New Glarus

On Sunday night I was futzing at home with the idiot box on in the background when I heard the following:

"Well, I don't care how they say it in New Glarus,
Wisconsin where you live on a lake and have nothing in common with me."

It was from an episode of American Dad which was written by Dan Vebber who, I discovered, used to write for The Onion. It was a bit ironic since The Dulcinea and I had spent the day in that very town.

We'd been sitting around Sunday morning feeling lethargic. Our conversation never got much past

"What do you wanna do today?"

"I dunno, Marty. What do you wanna do?"

until we hit on the idea of Oktoberfest in New Glarus.

And so we hit the road again with the handy and informative Dane County Place-Names by Frederic G. Cassidy with us. Curiously enough, The D pointed out to me yesterday that there's an event at the Wisconsin Book Festival today of relevance:

The Dictionary of American Regional English Toasts Fred Cassidy: On to Z!
Wednesday, October 10 | 5:00 - 6:45 PM
Venue: Wisconsin Historical Society-Library Mall

Presenter(s): Simon Winchester, Joan Houston Hall, Robert Easton, August Rubrecht

Are American English dialects becoming "homogenized" by the media and our population's mobility? Hear the contrary evidence from award-winning dialect coach Robert Easton ("the Henry Higgins of Hollywood"). Get the British perspective from celebrated author Simon Winchester. And catch up on the progress of the Dictionary of American Regional English with editor Joan Houston Hall. You'll go away confident that, despite the media, there is still plenty of fascinating variety in the ways Americans speak, and there's no reason to expect that the situation will change. This event celebrates DARE and its founding editor, Frederic G. Cassidy, on the centennial of his birth.

She didn't even notice that Cassidy was the same guy that wrote the book she read while co-piloting our expeditions over the weekend. In addition, she didn't notice that he was dead and instead thought we should bring the book along to be autographed. She's had a difficult week so I let such faux pas slide.

On our drive, we learned that Verona was named after Verona, NY, the hometown of George and William Vroman, who helped build the Badger Mill in 1844 in that area. Perusing an appendix, The D came across some interesting bits on how lakes are named. "Lake" comes first if the name is of Native American origin and second if otherwise. Ergo we have Lake Monona on one hand and Mud Lake (a.k.a. – Silver Lake) on the other. This comes from some linguistic bit of French.



We swung into New Glarus and found a block of First Street, well, blocked off, and eventually found parking on Second. Again our age showed through in how delighted we were by the old homes in the area. The town was first settled in 1845 by Swiss immigrants and it celebrates its heritage. It is probably the only place in a large radius where yodeling and alphorns are a regular and celebrated occurrence. Our first stop was the Maple Leaf Cheese and Chocolate House. How could we not go in? They were advertising malted milk fudge!





We sampled some cheeses and fudge as well. It was all quite tasty. I was fond of a horseradish cheddar while The D ogled a cheddar-bleu cheese combo. Both were from Monroe, a bit to the south and probably Wisconsin's archetypal cheesemaking town. There was also a ton of Swiss chocolates and other sweets as well as jams & jellies from Slack's up in Lodi. Not wanting to lug stuff around, we vowed to return later.



Leaving the Maple Leaf, we walked by the beer/music tent which was doing pretty brisk business. The New Glarus Brewing Company was a sponsor so there were Spotted Cow signs everywhere as polka music emanated from the other end of the tent. Unlike Watertown, I'd been to New Glarus a few times previously and had even ventured beyond the brewery. I love the town where every building is old or Swiss or both. We traipsed along the block where every building was some variation of a Swiss chalet and stopped in at Ruef's Meat Market. The wonderful aroma of smoked meats immediately wafted into my nose which caused me to start salivating. The display cases were on the bare side but we still saw a plethora of sausages including mettwurst (the smoked, firm variety) und cervelas, a Swiss sausage. I discovered that they're not normally open on Sundays but were that day to catch the Oktoberfest crowd. The guy behind the counter looked like he was counting down the seconds until he got to go home. They closed at 3 so, again, I decided that we'd head back there later so we weren't lugging fresh sausage around in near 90 degree weather. Next was a stop at a bakery next door.



There were loaves of bread on the back shelves and display cases full of cookies and pastries. Since neither of us had eaten before we left Madison, we were famished. I grabbed an almond cone while The D got a cream filled one. Needless to say, they were both excellent.

At the end of the block and across the street was a church which had a statue and small flower garden by it that commemorated the town's founders.



Walking a block over I found myself in familiar territory. The New Glarus Primrose Winery was just ahead.



It is a really nice little place with bottles of wine lining one stretch of a wall that ran the length of one side of the room. Antiques and bric-a-brac were everywhere and for sale. Shelf space not taken up by bottles and such held old books which gives the place the feel of an old fashioned study. There was a fair crowed bellied up to the counter where a busy gentleman was giving a wine tasting. For better or worse, I'm not a big wine drinker and consequently don't know very much about the stuff. There was still bottles of their summer vino made with cranberries to be had as well as lots of the fall variety made with apples. The D was entranced by the rhubarb wine so we gave it a taste. It was sweet yet still very tasty, though I could probably only handle one glass at a session. She went with a bottle of that while I grabbed one of their Fridolin something or other. Being a semi-sweet white wine, it seemed closest to my favorite, the Riesling. Plus it was made with Wisconsin grown Elvira grapes.



On our way back to the car to drop off our bottles, we again passed by the Chalet of the Golden Fleece Museum. However, approaching it from a different angle, we saw that there were logs on the roof weighted down by rocks.

I have to admit that I have no idea what that's all about. Making our way back to the festivities and admiring the houses, we saw one which was obviously occupied by kegelers. There were sundials around the yard and they were surrounded by bowling balls.



To the best of my knowledge, bowling doesn't have roots in Switzerland so I'm going to chalk this one up to eccentricity.

We grabbed brats at the food cart before venturing into the beer tent. I was disappointed to find that all of the Oktoberfest had been sold. However, some could be found at a local tavern down the street but I couldn't make out the name. A Yokel for me and a Fat Squirrel, I believe, for The D and we took a seat at a table to listen to the music of the New Glarus Polka Kings.



The crowd was mostly seniors but there were a few young couples with small children enjoying themselves as well. Regardless of age, everyone was hot because not a single breeze blew through the tent. After a few songs we departed for a cooler clime, namely a tavern. But first was a quick stop at the porta-potty beneath this bit of bovine statuary:



We weren't quite sure which bar the woman had pointed us towards when telling us that there was still some Oktoberfest to be had. So we followed our guts and wandered into the Glarner Stube. Lo and behold this was the right choice as the place was gorgeous. It was nice and cozy being a bit smaller than the Caribou here in Madison. And there was wood, wood everywhere – on the walls, the ceiling, and the floor; there was a deer head mounted on one wall next to a clock which was next to a sword; the bar top was made of copper; above the bar were bottles of New Glarus of every flavor including the Norski Honey Bock which is long gone; and there was this:



Talk about no crap on tap! All New Glarus beers, not even a token Miller or Bud product. In fact, I saw no beer in bottles being served at all. Luckily one of the taps was for Staghorn just as the woman had said and so we bellied up to the bar and ordered a couple pints. To top things off, I could smoke inside as well. Absolutely perfect. My frau by my side, great beer, indoor smoking like civilized people, and some of the best tavern atmosphere anywhere. There was even a little rack off to the side which, when not empty as it was Sunday, held Landjaeger from Ruef's Meat Market down the street. So your beer travels about a quarter mile from across the highway while your snacks travel a mere 60' or so from down the block. With all the wood and old Swiss accoutrement, the joint resembled a hunting lodge or, if hunting isn't your thing, then the place just had a fantastic old-timey atmosphere – excepting the televisions, of course. But they weren't too loud. The windows afforded us a view of one of the more disturbing things about the fest. It was one of those inflatable moonwalk hoolies for kids. This particular one was of a cow lying on its back. There was a tail and a head plus four feet on top. The disturbing part was that there was a teat inside for the kids to bounce off of...

Lastly, I must mention our bartender. She was great. Our second round was 2-for-1 and, when they changed the barrel, she gave us the first glass of foam to come out of it for free. I definitely intend to return to the Glarner Stube the first chance I get.

The place is also a restaurant and we were nearly drawn in by the prime rib special. Well, I was anyway. Instead, since I had to drive, we wandered out and stopped in at the bakery and cheese shop to purchase some of the goodies we had ogled earlier. (A bit before 3 I had slipped out of the bar and down to the butcher to grab a few things before it closed.) But we were both hungry and, walking by the New Glarus Hotel, we decided to take them up on their Swiss buffet. Going past the bar, I thought of my friend Roy who used to live in the town. The hotel bar was his hangout of choice as it had a great selection of single malt scotches. Within a couple minutes we found ourselves at the buffet and, shortly after that, eating sauerbraten stew, bratwurst with kraut, red cabbage, Swiss green beans, and cheese hacked off one of the bricks that lay on a cutting board next to the salad bar.

Uff da! Of course we had stuffed ourselves and a severe meat buzz was settling upon us. The D had the chance to take a wee nap on the drive home but I was afforded no such luxury.

So now the question is: where to next?