My plan is complete. If I commit a murder — you never know — and am convicted and sentenced to death, I have my final meal all planned.
Just like my birthday celebration last week — you haven’t heard? — I will order a corned beef Reuben and warm German potato salad from Morse’s Sauerkraut in Waldoboro.
Waldoboro.
I know. Food critics from across the country flock to Primo’s and Cafe Miranda in Rockland, Francine’s in Camden and Conte’s Italian Restaurant in Belfast. They all deserve the praise. I am not allowed to return to Primo’s by Blue Eyes, who simply hated the sides of beef and pork hanging to dry behind the bar. Very European, you know. Hey, she wasn’t a vegetarian when we met 30-odd years ago.
But if I am going to get fried the next day, I will stick to the Morse’s menu. I have had Reubens here and there from Camden to Florida and no one can touch Morse’s. They make their own sauerkraut. (For your information, sauerkraut is deliciously fermented cabbage.)
Even though I am a big, fat guy, I cannot eat as much as most people, including the very slim Blue Eyes. That means I get a healthy load of leftovers from Morse’s to be savored just as soon as I get hungry again.
Like a homemade spaghetti sauce, the leftovers do nothing but improve the longer they sit. The potato salad is made with specks of bacon and vinegar, with a dollop of sour cream. It is worth the drive all by itself — to Waldoboro.
The tragic flaw with Morse’s is that they are unable to serve beer because of some archaic Waldoboro statute. You used to be able to bring your own beer to be consumed in the restaurant, but that was halted. Anyone addicted to German food with its sausages, bratwurst and bangers knows beer is required to complete the meal.
I may run for the state legislature just to get that particular legislation changed.
I love driving visitors out to the location in very rural Waldoboro and see the look on their unsuspecting faces when they walk in to Morse’s. It is a simple building, suitable for a farming operation. But once the visitors start eating (and moaning) they understand the reason for the trip — to Waldoboro.
From 1848 to World War I, Knox, Waldo and Lincoln Counties were flooded with immigrants from Germany and central Europe. Thank god, they brought sauerkraut with them. In 1910, the now celebrated Virgil Morse brought a barrel of pickled cabbage to John Gray’s Store in Waldoboro. That sparked so much demand that by 1913 Morse had to switch from hand-cutting the cabbage to using power tools. Virgil Morse, Jr. took the plunge and bought a tractor for the farm in 1947. Dad would have nothing to do with the newfangled machine and continued to till 15 acres with horse and plow.
The current Kraut House, where I savored my Reuben and potato salad last week, was built in 1953, very close to Route 220. Junior cast the concrete blocks for the building, used mostly for the wholesale operation. In 1963, Virgil Senior passed the business down to his hardworking son. When Junior was ill, his wife, Ethelyn, stepped in. When Junior Morse died in 1969, Ethelyn dropped her job as chief nurse at Damariscotta Hospital to take over.
The product sales continued to grow, and in 1976 the farm harvested 200 tons of cabbage. The kraut went from 40 cents per pound in 1977 to $1 per pound in 1986.
In 1988, the operation was sold by the Morse family to a local resident who, legend has it, could neither develop a good kraut or the semblance of a profit. In 1994 Leon Payne, a local businessman and kraut fan, bought the farm on Ethelyn’s 80th birthday. He added jams, jellies, honey and Black Dog Salsa. Kraut went to $2.15 per pound.
In 2000, Jacquelyn Sawyer and David Swetnam bought the business. They begin making their first batch of kraut the very next day using the same secret Morse’s family recipe David remembered from his childhood visits to the Kraut Haus with his grandfather, Harold Drewett, owner of Rambler Garage in Warren. Garlic sour and sour mustard pickles were soon added, thank god.
In 2002 the Kraut Haus Restaurant opened, offering classic European fare just 7 miles from the fabled Moody’s Diner. The next year the restaurant added specialty foods and desserts
In January of 2015, James Gammon and Cody LaMontagne bought Morse’s Sauerkraut and moved into the old Morse farm. They added a specialty grocery store. A marketing student would tell you that opening a highly sophisticated grocery store in a very rural location would be folly. The marketing student would be wrong.
I am hardly a foodie and would need a patiently guided tour of the specialty shop to grasp the variety of cookies, cheeses and meats. Most have labels in German. Some of the offerings are Speck and Schinken hams from Germany, Parma Prosciutto from Italy, Bavarian sausages, aged Dutch goudas, Swiss gruyeres, English cheddars and hundreds of other fine meats and cheeses fill the “horn of plenty” that is Morse’s cavernous curved-glass deli case.
Still hungry?
Check out the Viennese comfiture, classic German spaetzle, local artisan breads, mustards, canned and pickled fish, spices, seasonings, cakes, crackers and candies. If you have room in your arms, check out the Broadbents country hams, nitrate-free natural bacon and southern dry-cured meats. Naturally, there is the fresh sauerkraut and all-natural pickles.
I am drooling just writing about it. Tell the warden at Maine State Prison: My last meal will be a Reuben and warm German potato salad from Morse’s.
And a beer, if you could spare it.