Sauerkraut. A quick Google search tells me it’s finely sliced, fermented cabbage. The idea of heaping mounds of fermented cabbage on my hot dog has never really appealed to me.
Then again, if I think too hard about the make-up of hot dogs, they don’t appeal to me either.
But still, I eat them, every summer as grilling season kicks into full swing. I’ll layer ketchup, mustard, and sometimes pickles and cheese on top – but never sauerkraut. Before this weekend, I’ve never been brave enough to take a bite of the somewhat smelly relish. I’m not alone – several people I talked to at Blairstown’s Sauerkraut Days said sauerkraut was never on their menus.
I’ve tried sushi and seaweed salad, love cooking with tofu and have conquered any childhood fears of broccoli, which I now adore. When I studied abroad in South Africa last year, I even tried amasi, a popular food that is basically sour, curdled milk. I probably won’t be eating that one again, but at least I tried it.
Yet, living in Eastern Iowa, only a short drive from places such as the Amana Colonies and with German heritage of my own, I’d never embraced that very German dish called sauerkraut.
So when I visited Blairstown’s Sauerkraut Days, I decided to take the plunge. It helped they were handing out free hot dogs smothered with the stuff.
All in the name of journalistic inquiry, of course, I jumped in line for my new culinary experience. When it was my turn, I could barely see my hot dog, it was buried under so much of the pale yellow, slightly damp, smelly cabbage. I steeled myself, then, slowly, took a bite.
Not bad.
I wonder how it would taste with tofu?