Dueling Taverns in White Oak: No More Raclette and Schorle, Only Paneer and Lassi

Blue Rock and Cheviot 150+ years apart – Fridolin Gutzwillers saloon on the left, Grace of India on the right

The community of White Oak which spans both Green and Colerain Townships in Cincinnati has a very Germanic past.   The local histories say that many coopers came here because of the prevalence of white oak trees, the best tree to make barrels that held liquids like beer or wine.      But if we dig deeper, we find a colorful mostly Catholic community, made up of both Germanic immigrants from southern Baden Germany, and its neighbor across the border, Switzerland – specifically the cantons of Basel and Solothurn.

The community in the 1840s was called St. Jacobs, after the first Catholic Church there, which is now St. James White Oak.      For a few years it was also called Creedville, after one of the postmaster, and then by the 1880s it was known as White Oak.     The area was originally almost completely Catholic, and all went to the St. James parish.     Many of the farmers of the area owned businesses who catered to the village residents.   There were two taverns on Cheviot road whose owners were members of St. James  – one was owned by Baden immigrant Fred Schmelzle, who built it in 1856.   The other was owned by Swiss immigrants Fridolin and Therese Gutzwiller. One can imagine the Badeners of St. James going to Schmelzle’s Tavern, and the Swiss immigrants going to Gutzwillers. They both spoke the similar sudallemaine and schweizerdeutch German dialects.

At the entrance to White Oak from the East is the historic intersection of what was then Burnt Schoolhouse Road, now Cheviot Road, and Blue Rock.      In the 1850s, it housed the two story brick house that was owned by Swiss immigrants Fridolin Gutzwiller and his wife, Therese Hauser.  

Fridolin was from a village called Therwil, just south of the city of Basel on the Rhine River.   Therese was from a smaller village to the southeast of Therwil called Aesch in the canton of Solothurn.     The Hauser and Gutzwiller families knew each other in Switzerland.         There was a third family, the Joseph Brosi/Brosey family from the village of Breitenbach, who had come to Cincinnati earlier, in the 1820s and set up a vineyard and farm in the Dent area.    The Hauser family lived with them at their Dent farm in the 1860s.   Fridolin’s brother Vincent married Theresa’s sister Mary Hauser.    Before marrying, Mary sang and entertained at Fridolin’s saloon.   She probably sang Swiss folksongs and performed folk dances for the customers.     With the Swiss and family connection to the Broseys- they probably served his wine, which he made in the 1850s and 1860s on the order of several hundred gallons annually.    They also probably served locally made meats and Swiss style cheeses they were familiar with back home.    Another local delicacy was Solothurner Wine Soup – made with local wine, beans, carrots, onions and sprinkled with hazlenuts.

Solothurn Wine Soup – a local delicacy around Basel Switzerland.

Riester’s Tavern, built in the 1850s by the Schmelzle family.

The Schmelzle tavern was sold to Charles Mohrmeyer by 1899, and then by the 1920s to Edward and Catherine Riester who changed the name to Riester’s Tavern, the name locals knew it by before it was demolished in 2017.      Stories say that in 1866, when a cyclone blew off the roof of St. James Church, services were held in the tavern until the church could be repaired.    

Bibeleskase, a local Baden cheese dip.

In addition to serving Baden foods like biebeleskase – a savory cheese dip, the Schmelzle tavern probably sold wine made by Joseph Siefert, a Baden immigrant who owned a vineyard on Burnt Schoolhouse road down the street from the tavern in what was then called Weisenburg, now Monfort Heights.      Siefert was a stone mason, politician, vineyardist and farmer.   He had built, among other structures one of Nicholas Longworth’s Wine Houses.   He grew Ives, Catawba, and other native grapes on his land and had a large two story brick house for his large extended family – 5 kids and the four sons of his brother.    His only son Charles tended a peach orchard on site.  The house looks remarkably similar to the Fridolin Gutzwiller house and saloon – so, it’s possible that it was built by the same builder.   The Siefert home would become a Niedhard funeral home in its later years before being demolished for modern subdivisions.  

Joseph Siefert, Baden immigrant winemaker of Monfort Heights

An image of Joseph Siefert’s large brick house on Cheviot Road, looks remarkably similar to Fridolin Gutzwiller’s Saloon.

Joseph Siefert was a very socially active man and there are many snippets about his antics in the Enquirer.   One of the things he was known to bring to any party or event was his ‘lemonade without water’, which was Ives wine mixed with lemonade.    This is one of the most common drinks in Baden at summer wine gardens and is known as a ‘schorle.’     The Baden Germans like to mix wine and fruit juice with fizzy lemonade or sparkling water in the summer for a refreshing, but not highly intoxicating drink. 

A Baden rotweinschorle, like Joseph Siefert’s Ives Wine “Lemonade”.

Today, both taverns are gone.    But a building on the site of Gutzwiller’s Tavern houses the Grace of India restaurant, which instead of raclette cheese, serves paneer dishes, and instead of Badenischer weinschorle serves lassi.  

The Visit of French Chief Entomologist Monseur Planchon to Clifton and Westwood Winemakers in September 1873

Jules-Emil Planchon – French Entemologist who visited Westwood and Clifton in 1873 to inspect our vineyards.

In 1873, the French and Central European wine industries were in real peril.   A blight had been affecting vineyards in the Rhone Valley and was spreading.  The French  Ministry of Agriculture and Economoics sent the entomologist Jule-Emil Planchon to the United States in the late summer of 1873 to visit phyloxerra resistant vineyards.     His visit included sites in Baltimore, South Carolina, Cincnnati, Sandusky, and St. Louis, Missouri.    By that time he had been studying the disastrous blight on grapevines spreading like the plague throughout Europe for six years.   He had isolated the blight to a small orange mite called phylloxera that sucked the vines’ roots like a subterranean vampire and killed the plant.    He had suspected and nearly proved that the mites had come along as stowaways on American native Vitus Labrusca vines that had been sent to France in the 1860s.

The first thing Planchon noted about Cincinnati, when he arrived on September 15 was the grapes being sold on the street corners of Cincinnati – the Concord at 15 cents a bunch and the Delaware, at even less.     He thought Cincinnati was very smoky and thought third street was nice.    He did say that Cincinnati seemed to be devoid of large public monuments.   Clearly he did not get the chance to see our fabulous German designed Genius des Wassers – the Tyler Davidson Fountain – which had been installed only two years prior to Planchon’s visit.     Finally he noted the many Germans in Cincinnati, who had “more vivacity on their faces than the Yankees of the Northeast.”    Well, that’s because they were probably under the influence of wine or beer.

Planchon sought out Robert Buchanan, who had recently written his The Culture of the Grape and Winemaking, which was an international manual on modern winemaking in America.   Our once Wine King Nicholas Longworth had been dead for 10 years and his Longworth Wine House was closed by his grandson, Anderson in 1869.   Planchon had taken numerous notes on Cincinnati’s wine industry from Buchanan’s book before landing on the Ohio, so he was super-fanning it.   Robert Buchanan had been growing grapes on his estate in Clifton since the 1840s.     They talked about the local summer grape rot phenomenon, and the decline in productivity in Catawba vineyards locally for the last 20 years.    Planchon had suspected the Catawba Crash in Cincinnati was due to the little orange mite phylloxera ravaging French vineyards.    Buchanan had never heard of this mite.   Cincinnatians attributed the catawba crash to bad weather and had not isolated it to the mites like France had.   When Planchon later graded what American rootstocks were most phylloxera resistant, he graded Catawba and Isabella and Delaware the worst, which coincides with their crash in Cincinnati.     It also appeared that vineyards planted in sandy soil were phylloxera resistant, so that also explains while some Cincinnati Catawba vineyards survived the crash.

Buchanan took Planchon to westwood to meet Michael Werk, and his son Emile, from Alsace.   Planchon was impressed with the extensive wine cellars of the Werks on today’s Werk Road and his healthy 65 acre vineyards.      Planchon called their operation a Champagne operation, but their taste was more like the sparkling wines made outside of the champagne region.   He noted that the Werks had achieved international acclaim by receiving a first honorable mention for their Golden Eagle Sparkling Catawba Wines at the 1867 Paris Exposition.   The Werk’s wines were the only Cincinnati wines mentioned by the French at that exposition.      William Flagg, Nicholas Longworth’s son-in-law had been a judge and part of the American delegation to accompany our American wines to the exhibition.  He also noted that the Werk’s owned a large 400 acre vineyard in Vermillion, Ohio, on the south shore of Lake Erie, which fed their large winehouse on Middle Bass Island called Werk, Wehrle and Sons.    Planchon was also impressed by the Werk’s horse drawn bottle washing machine.

Planchon left Cincinnati and visited Sandusky, Ohio to see the Lake Erie wine cellars of the German Thomas Rush, but not the Werk’s large operation on Middle Bass Island.   His report on his US visit was published in 1875 and became a bestseller in France.      The French would eventually import Texas grape vines from America and graft their vines onto these rootstock to save their industry from total ruin.   So you can say all European wines are actually American wines.

Unpacking Hillbilly Cuisine

Hot Dog Sushi.

Over the weekend I went to a Trailer Park Murder Mystery party.     I guess you might consider it one of the most unPC themed parties,  if we weren’t all sort of poking fun at ourselves.    Everyone was assigned a character that had not really made good decisions and was a murder suspect.   Mullets, dye-jobs, leapord print, NASCAR wear and T- Shirts with offensive sayings like “Save a Horse, Ride a Cousin,” were abound.       We all were encouraged to bring appropriate Trailer Park food or the more PC term – Mobile Home Gourmet.

And, although the folks we were emulating are considered by many as country, backwoods, and unrefined, the funny thing is that the food many consider low-brow is actually the comfort food we all like and grew up eating.    It seems we all have a bit of trailer park, hillbilly, redneck, hayseed, hick, bumpkin, or yokel in us.

There have been many comedians like Jeff Foxworthy who have capitalized on the hillbilly and redneck ethos.      They’re now called Blue Collar Comedians.  

There’s even a famous Trailer Park Cookbook written in 1982 by Ernest Matthew MIckler that includes over 200 recipes from West Virginia to Key West.   There are recipes for possum, squirrel, and turtle – meats you won’t find in your local Kroger meat counter.

The cheap snack foods of the past, things our grandparents ate, like pickled eggs, pickled pigs feet, and headcheese, are all part of that culinary history.    The cheap convenience foods of my youth – jarred tamales, canned Vienna sausages, SPAM, and braunschweiger spread – all could be considered part of this low-brow hillbilly food.

Meanwhile, at the Murder Mystery party, there was the obligatory jello salad with entombed mini-marshmallows.  But who doesn’t like a good ambrosia salad or my fave, the orange cream sickle jello salad from my 1970s youth.   There was a plethora of moonpies, Little Debbie and hostess snack cakes.    There was a tator tot casserole, a variety of dips including pimento cheese, a Buttig beef encrusted cheeseball, chicken wings, baked beans, pigs-in-a-blanket, and bacon wrapped smokies.     There was of course Cincinnati’s contribution to low brow foods – Hanky Panky.     You will see Hanky Panky as an appetizer at legacy West Side Steakhouse, Maury’s Tiny Cove.   I wouldn’t turn my nose up to any of these delicacies.

It’s interesting to note that our beloved Cincinnati Goetta in Germany is called “arme leute essen,” or poor people’s food.   Gruetzwurst or grain sausage, the family to which Goetta belongs, is certainly the last thing made at the time of slaughter to extend and use every part of the pig.     

One of the interesting “trailer park desserts” at the party was one I’d never heard of was called Velveeta Fudge.   Yes, that’s right, it was a brownie fudge that contained Velveeta cheese.

Necessity is the mother of invention and using cheaper versions of fats was one of the things home cooks of limited means during the Depression and War Years came up with.     Other items like the Vinegar Pie and Red Eye Gravy, were also a part of this limited ingredients frugality.

Velveeta is not really a cheese, but a pasteurized cheese product, brought to the American market in 1918.     It was named because it had a velvety, consistent texture when melted.   It became the standard for macaroni, grilled cheese, and other melty American cheese dips.     It even became one of the primary ingredients in Cincinnati Hanky Panks.   But around the Depression, some innovative and frugal home cook decided it would be good as the fat in fudge, perhaps when Crisco or lard rendered from cooked meats was at a scarcity.     I heard from tasters at the party that the flavor was good but it had a weird-ish texture.

Another cheap fat that was integrated into American baking during the same period was mayonnaise.   Adding a small amount of mayo to a cake became a hack for more expensive fats. This mayo trick works especially well with chocolate cakes, which can easily become dense. The extra oil adds tenderness to the cake crumb and the vinegar found in mayonnaise actually works to enhance the flavor. The acidity offsets the sweetness and makes the chocolate sing.

So if we unpack what is associated with Hillbilly Cuisine, we see both innovation and comfort. These are the things growing American families used to stretch a budget, while also making something memorable and delicious.

Kohlrabi: The Underappreciated Root Veg

The Purple Vienna variety of kohlrabi

The Germans have a love of their root veggies – from turnips, parsnips, carrots, to the weird black salsify, or scharzwurzel as they call it.  The bauern and landwirts – or farmers – knew the nutritious value of root veggies, and some of them became associated as poor people’s food or “arme leute essen.” The most common German used root veggie, of course is the potato.    Every region of Germany seems to have their own way to make the potato into a pancake, dumpling or noodle.    Spaetzle is my favorite incarnation of the potato.

But one German favorite root veggie that is virtually unknown in the U.S. is Kohlrabi.     It falls into the same brassica family as cabbage, broccholi and cauliflower, all of which are low calorie, healthy and even blood sugar-reducing.   It’s actually a straight mutation of the cabbage. Even the greens can be used and cooked, similar to collard greens, although they take longer to cook to tender.    As an advantage to growing, it is extremely draught tolerant.

Kohl rabi translates from the German into cabbage turnip. Rabi or turnip was also  a slang term used in northern Mecklenburg, Germany, in the mid 19^th century for pocketwatch, because the round face resembled the root veg.   Supposedly the North German immigrant manager of the Northside C H & D Passenger depot, Friedrich Dankert, used to call his pocketwatch his turnip.

And, according to Germany’s Federal Center for Food (BZfE), kohlrabi is  consumed more in Germany than anywhere else in the world.   53.1% of Germans bought kohlrabi in 2020. An increase of 2% compared to 2019 and 3% compared to 2018.  It comes as no surprise that Germany is the world’s largest kohlrabi producer: The sweet, crunchy, low-calorie and nutrient-rich cabbage turnip has been cultivated in Germany since the 16th century. 

Kohlrabi appeared in German herb and botany books in the 1500s.   It probably accompanied German immigrants to the US, where its presence was noted in 1806.    But then it never took off as a popular root veg in this countyr.

In Germany, kohlrabi is grown on an area of around 1800 hectares. The largest cultivation areas are in North Rhine-Westphalia (543 ha), Rhineland-Palatinate (380 ha) and Lower Saxony (248 ha).  

I found the spiralized version of it a few years ago at Fresh Market, which I have since turned into my jam, making it into shoestring fries and hash browns.    It has a tender sweet flavor that’s not rooty like other root veg.     It takes well to all sorts of spices, which I’ve experimented with.

Trader Joe’s has packages of them already spiralized during their springtime season, but not all year long.     I’ve seen them in full form at the Hyde Park Farmer’s Market too, and I usually buy everything on hand.

Its great roasted in large chunks, made into a creamy, buttery mash, and would probably make some fantastic chips, flavored with Grippo’s BBQ seasoning.   I haven’t tried it yet, but I’m sure they’d be good in a meat or veg curry or even into a kohlrabi samosa.    Basically anywhere you used a potato the kohlrabi can replace it with nearly half the calories, carbs, and a whole lot of flavor and nutrients.

Brotzeit – Cheers to the Open Faced Snack Sandwich

A brotzeit platter of ingredients used to top butterbrot or German open-faced sandwiches.

While I’m a fan of guac, I prefer it with chips and spicy salsa.     Avacado toast has nothing on other open faced sandwiches of Europe.   They’ve been around centuries before Avacado toast became the food of hipster Millenials.  

Even my Dad’s versions of the open faced snack sandwich surpasses AT.     He taught us the brilliance of braunschweiger spread on white bread with salt and pepper or mayonaiise.    And the limburger cheese and thinly sliced onions on dark salted rye was another favorite.    This was our version of Cincinnati Brotzeit – the german term – literally translated as Bread Time – to mean a snack break with open faces bread sandwiches.

I even created my own brotzeit appy while my mom was making goetta in the crockpot.   I’d dip a ritz cracker or chunk of bread in the warming goetta before mom poured it into the bread pans to get and slice.    

Starting in Germany – there are many versions of the open faced sandwich.    To me, there’s nothing better than the German cold breakfast spread with all sorts of breads, brotchens with thin sliced regional cold cuts, cheeses, homemade jams, and veg like onions, cucumbers and pickles.  

But there are other favorites too for Brotzeit.    There’s a whole world of smearkase or spreadable cheeses.   Then there’s pickled herring dip on Oldenburg Brown bread, a holiday favorite of my Dad’s generation.    There’s spreadable teewurst (a milder version of Italian spreadable Nduja), there’s beetroot syrup with quark cheese, there’s kippers (smoked fish filets) and scrambled eggs, and a whole host of other regional versions.

A kaleidescope of Danish smorenbrod.

The Danish have a culture of open faced sandwiches called Smorenbrod.     It’s a thin slice of thin dark rye bread, lightly buttered and topped with a multitude of Danish ingredients.   The toppings include cheeses like Havarti, Danablu or Esrom, pickled herring, liver pate, eggs and asparagus, smoked salmon – the list goes on.     The smorenbrod culture is said to have started with field workers of the middle age for a convenient lunch.      Then in the 1800s it became popular with factory workers.

Just across the channel in the Netherlands is a popular family of open faces sandwiches called uitsmijter.   This delicacy is one of the most popular lunch dishes.  It consists of a couple of slices of toast covered in meant and/or cheese and topped with fried eggs.    But the Dutch are honest and say that utismitjer actually comes from the German states of Saxony and the city of Berlin – where the sandwich is called ‘Strammer max’ .   Like the open faced sandwiches of Germany, the Dutch version comes in a variety of toppings including cream cheese, pesto, hummus and peanut butter.  

Dutch uitsmijter

The Dutch also have an entirely separate sweet open faced sandwich for breakfast that’s more like an open faced pop tart.   This is what they call Hagelslag.   It consists of bread buttered or with a sweet spread like Nutella or spekulas with a variety of types of sprinkles from fruity to chocolate.     Hagelslag means hailstorm in Dutch and is a tradition over 100 years old.   The Dutch licorice company VENCO created hagelslag sprinkles in 1919.

Hagelslag

Moving to the Mediterranean you have the brilliant little open faced appetizers which the Venetians call chiccetti.  They consist of toppings of shaved hams and squiggly sea creatures or tapenades and tomato sauces on crostini and bruschetta.   

And these are just a few of the cultures who have open faced sammies.  Take that Avacado toast !  You’re not so innovative