SAUERKRAUT IS A PART OF OUR HERITAGE

"First, have good cabbage.  It takes roughly two bushels for a ten-gallon crock,"
says Lew Diehl.  And you need a willing worker, in this case, Pat Diehl. 

An appealing characteristic of history is that it remains a part of us one way or another. How many of us today continue to practice customs handed down in our families for generations? Sauerkraut is a case in point. When the Historical Highlights editor heard we were making sauerkraut, he said he thought no one did that any more. He thought the tasteless, white stuff sold in the supermarkets was all there was. That led to the suggestion of an article for our historical society newsletter. Kraut making can certainly be said to be a part of Shelby County history, with all our German and other European ancestors. What follows then is a self interview. — Lew and Pat Diehl

Lew:  Making kraut is something I "came home to" by way of Patty’s family. But this late summer work goes away back in both our German families. My parents didn’t make any that I can remember, but my grandparents, with their large family, made it by the barrel. Grandpa Diehl was descended from immigrants to "Little Lampertheim," as Chillicothe, Ohio, was once known after all the German gardeners settled there. He wrote of buying extra cabbage by the hundredweight for the purpose. According to his mother’s diary, shucking corn and making kraut were the last two jobs my great-grandfather did before dying of typhoid in October of 1906.

Pat:  Grandpa Kloeppel always had a big garden behind their house on Highland Avenue in Sidney when there was only a big field there. I suppose that’s where my father (George) learned about making kraut. After we moved to the farm near Swanders in 1945, we had big gardens too, and I remember kraut making. It was usually in October, when it was cool. The moon sign had to be right — going down, or waning. Otherwise the kraut would swell and run over.  We used big stone crocks. A crock was set near the chimney in the basement so that it could help hold the cutter in place while slicing the cabbage. Later, I would sneak down and snitch handfuls out of the crocks. I liked the taste of the salty cabbage even before it was fermented. I can’t remember if they canned it or just left it in the crock until it was gone.