Back to Monroe

If you read my book, Destination Heartland: A Guide to Discovering the Midwest’s Remarkable Past, you’ll already know that Monroe, Wisconsin, is the “Swiss Cheese Capital of the USA.” You may also remember that I visited the Ratskeller Restaurant at Monroe’s Turner Hall (and yes, it is Ratskeller, which is Swiss German, vs. Rathskeller, which is German-German). Being in the Swiss Cheese Capital, that first time, I of course had to have the Swiss Cheese Pie. (And they kindly gave me the recipe for this, for inclusion in my book.) But I was enthusiastically informed by my guide that I must return for the Kalberwurst sandwich. I promised I would come back.

A few weeks ago, having a speaking engagement only 30 miles from Monroe, I turned my wheels north and returned, with the goal of keeping that promise. Happily, I was able to connect with the woman who had offered the recommendation, and she joined me for lunch,

The Kalberwurst itself is a veal sausage that originated in Glarus, Switzerland. At the Ratskeller, it is served smothered with caramelized onions and melted Swiss cheese, served on a bun with a small pot of gnarly, slightly sweet mustard. The sandwich was great (and seriously, smothered in onions and melted cheese, how could it be otherwise), but being able to keep a promise is also always a treat.

After lunch and a long chat, I continued on, heading for the Chalet Cheese Co-operative, the last place in the U.S. that makes Limburger cheese. Chalet Cheese is a few miles out of town, amid a rolling, green countryside. The “factory,” pristinely white and perched on a hill overlooking surrounding farms, has a small store where you can stock up on this and other offerings. The co-op uses milk from the 21 member families (ninety-five percent of all Wisconsin dairy farms are family owned), so the cheesemakers always know exactly what they’re getting, with milk coming from Holstein (70%) and Brown Swiss (30%) cows.

The tidy shelves in the modest shop offer mild, medium, and aged Limburger, and Limburger spread. Also on offer are, among other things, dill Havarti, Brick (invented in the U.S. by Swiss cheesemaker John Jossi), a range of processed cheese spreads, and, of course, Swiss in a number of forms. Fortunately, I’d brought a small cooler with me. So yet another reason to visit Monroe (besides those mentioned in my book.)

Swiss Cheese Salad

Monroe, Wisconsin, attracted me for several reasons. There is a museum that celebrates cheesemaking (the delightful and informative National Historic Cheesemaking Center). It is home to the oldest cheese shop in a state that is practically defined by cheese (Baumgartner, which sits on the town square). And it is the location of what is likely the last Swiss Turner Hall in the U.S.

Turner Halls were/are community centers in German-speaking communities. The halls generally include meeting rooms, event spaces, and somewhere to eat and drink, but the real focus was gymnastics—because Turner means gymnast in German (or, more precisely, a member of a Turnverein, or gymnastics club).

Monroe is at the heart of Green County, which was settled by Swiss immigrants and still has a largely Swiss population. There are cheese makers scattered about the countryside and an annual event at the Cheesemaking Center where cheesemakers hand-craft cheese using the antique equipment. So cheese is common, and of course styles from Switzerland dominate.

Monroe is sometimes called “the Swiss Cheese Capital of the United States.” It was because of this claim to fame that, in the Ratskeller Restaurant at the Turner Hall, while all the Swiss specialties on the menu looked good to me, I was particularly attracted to the Swiss Cheese Pie. (That said, as good as the pie was, I now want to go back and try two or three other specialties on the menu.)

Not too surprisingly, I eventually found myself in possession of a nice chunk of Wisconsin Swiss Cheese. Lovely stuff. When I had consumed all but the last quarter pound, I came up with an idea that I thought was worth trying: Swiss Cheese Salad. I chopped the cheese into fairly fine dice, chopped a couple of tablespoons of sweet onion (or just a little less diced onion than you have diced cheese), combined the two, and added enough mayo to hold it together. It was great.

As I enjoyed it, it occurred to me that it was unlikely I was the only person who had ever had such a flash of inspiration. I did a search for Swiss Cheese Salad and learned that, indeed, I was not the first person to come up with the idea. However, my version was much simpler than the other versions I found, which means it is more likely that I’ll make it again. But definitely try it. Very tasty. However, as a food historian, it also reminded me how hard it can be to identify the origins of some dishes—because some food ideas occurred to multiple people in multiple locations.