My Wurst Texas Experience

(aside: I attended a recent neighborhood party (featuring fantastic BBQ BTW) and was chided by one friendly literally-attuned little lady about the absence of blog entries lately. So with my thanks and apology, I submit my following 2¢ for which “1¢” is now responsible.)

In early November I found myself a new Texas experience as I was working my way down I-35 toward San Antonio. After stops in Waco, Austin and San Marcos, I decided to pull up for the night in New Braunfels, arguably a suburb of the Alamo City.

New Braunfels was named after, of course, (old) Braunfels in Germany by none other than its wayward son Prince Carl who had a temporary job as Commissioner General of Adelsverein, a Society for the Protection of German Immigrants in Texas. Shortly after establishing NB as the first Germanic colony in Texas (circa 1845), he became homesick for the old castle and returned to Germany (you would too if you saw his Texas castle – kind of looked like a drive-in beer store before its time).

Like Prince Carl, I’m also of German ancestry and I got to Texas as soon as I could too. So I guess I was genetically disposed to be absolutely enthralled when I stumbled into the traditional New Braunfels celebration called “Wurstfest”. – billed as their annual 10 day salute to sausage. Thankfully it is not a celebration of Hossenfesser, which I suspect would be much harder to market.

For a Tuesday night there was a big crowd, maybe 1500 or so. About 15% of the people there were dressed in Germanic garb – and maybe half of those were there as entertainers, booth workers, etc. Lots of funny hats prevailed. I’m sure the attendance was helped by the mild weather. Except for lack of any costume, I had the weirdest feeling of blending right in with the crowd – age, hair/skin color, waistline, appetite. I am a stereotypical Tuesday evening Wurstfest attendee!

True to form, there were dozens of different type of sausage offerings. The most popular seemed to be a combo sausage, potato pancakes and apple sauce plate – no fewer than 150 people in line all three times I counted! The most iconic offering was the “wurst-kabob” consisting of 5 kinds of sausage on a stick. Personally, I opted for a foot long sausage link wrapped in a tortilla along with a couple mugs of Shiner Bock while listening to a few really good polka bands (enough Shiner may impact your judgement).

I was back at the Hampton Inn ~3 hours after my Wurstfest arrival, well fed, oiled and convinced that regardless of what they say, lederhosen is not designed to make you appear slimmer (although it is better than wearing knee socks with Bermuda shorts). My only regret is I didn’t buy the T-shirt that proclaimed “I’m Perfect . . .and I’m German too!”

While Wurstfest would typically provide all you could want in terms of encountering sausage, my return trip home included a small side trip through Elgin – home of three sausage companies (and three brick companies if you want a full accounting). One of the sausage outlet’s motto is “You’ll Love Our Guts!”

Actually, the real draw of my visit to this place was due to the town’s name. My boyhood hometown is just south of Elgin, Illinois (where namesake watches and street sweepers were made). But the locals of these two municipalities pronounce the name of totally differently: Up north it’s el-GIN (like L-Beefeaters); in Texas, it’s said el-KEN (kinda like L-Barbie’s boyfriend). Who knew I was pronouncing it wrong all these years?

When I got back to the interstate on the way home, I pulled into the “Czech Stop” in the town of West. This is one of the few places where you can gas up AND load up on kolachies – and you guessed it – sausage. In recognition of my Wurst Texas trip ever, it just seemed right to bring home some local six inch “Hot Chubbies.”

Hope you always experience only the best Wurst – wherever you are! Click here to see pictures/evidence. (suggest you select slideshow)