As a kid, I used to ride my bike to Schroedl’s (SHRA-DELS) to buy popcicles. My mother used to send me to buy lard so she could make pies and biscuits.
Growing up on the farm, we grew our vegetables, fruit, and sometimes our meat. The kids were involved in all of it. We picked and hoed and weeded and sold the things we grew. We fed and cleaned and processed the animals we raised. There was value in what we did.
We always had butter, never margin, or Oleo as we used to call it. When I was young, the state of Wisconsin used to require that Oleo was blue, so people wouldn’t confuse it with butter. I still won’t buy Oleo out of respect for the dairy farmer.
Schroedl’s would butcher a steer or pig so we could have hamburger, pork chops, steak, ribs and more. We ate well, very well. The smells coming from that kitchen, I can still remember even though its been more than 30 years since I lived there.
Schroedl’s is still there, selling better stuff than you can get anywhere. They are unparalleled sausage makers. How they can make a summer sausage that doesn’t seem greasy is beyond belief.
People often ask why I still live in a small town, the one I grew up in. This is one reason. There are many more.