Grandfathered In

I come by this brat pre-occupation honestly. My grandfather, Frederick Henry Schroeder, is responsible.
FOOD MUSEUM OF THE WEEK
Deutsches Bratwurst Museum Holzhausen
Thuringia, Germany. Focused on the social and political history of bratwurst, particularly Thuringian Rostbratwurst, for which a 1432 document has recently been found that established the rules of production. The exhibition includes documents, butchering tools, historical photos, and folklore.
When I was a kid in the late 60’s, we moved to DC from Wisconsin and my parents maintained a brat connection. At the time, bratwurst was exotic and unavailable in the Mid-Atlantic, a region (DC in particular) that was largely by-passed by the waves of Northern-European immigrants that arrived in the early 20th century. What was a good ex-pat Midwesterner to do? I remember suitcase hand-offs at National Airport. A plain, brown, businessman’s suitcase, heavy with cold, stuffed casings, packed so close the sausages were square-sided. Followed on the weekend by a backyard brat bash.
My grandmother, other side of the family, the, ahem, pork-free side, came for visits with a large, brown case as well. Packed tightly, no wrapping, day old bakery. Ack. From my grandfather’s dairy and bakery, the Quaker Dairy. Quakers they were not. Boris and Anna Cherkasky from Ukraine. Nope. That day old bakery was a cross to bear, so to speak.

	Midnight Snack on The Venerable Jersey Joe
	Midnight Snack on The Venerable Jersey Joe
	David Kmetz on The Venerable Jersey Joe
	Midnight Snack on Putting the acCENT on the prop…
	Larry Goldberg on Putting the acCENT on the prop…