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| Photo by frankskraut |
The sauerkraut at Lisbon Sauerkraut Days is free. You’ll have to pay for anything to put it on, but rest assured there are burgers and brats to be had. There is also, for that matter, cotton candy and lemonade and funnel cake so good that, when my partner Dustin and I were there, we seriously overestimated our tolerance for fried food and went back to order a second wandering spiral of dough. It was, in the tradition of fair food, a thing of beauty: hot and staining grease through the paper plate while supporting a positive drift of powdered sugar. But that second helping was also the origin of what we now refer to as The Funnel Cake Rule, wherein the consumption of any one funnel cake must be preceded by a one year waiting period since the last, and which we have strictly observed ever since.
In a town of 2,000 people, I imagine there’s not a great deal of traffic diverted when Lisbon, Iowa closes the main street to cars and sets up food stands and carnival rides instead. Indeed, within five blocks the store fronts turn to residences, and from my seat in the concert stage bleachers I stare across the street at the drawn curtains of a private home, wondering if there is always a Confederate flag in the window or if it could possibly have some connection to sauerkraut.
Iowa, you will be gratified to know, leads the nation in sauerkraut festivals. Lisbon, Ackley, and Blairstown, Iowa all celebrate annual Sauerkraut Days festivals. Illinois hosts similar cabbage-based celebrations in just Frankfort and Forreston; while Utah, Minnesota, and North Dakota each have one event apiece.
In Lisbon, it literally takes a week to indulge in all the LSD festivities*, from praise service to biggest cabbage weigh off to chicken chip bingo. I don’t even like sauerkraut, but I do have a weakness for outdoor movies, running events with names like the “Kraut Route 5k,” and street dances. Which is why, after dropping in the Lisbon Historical Society for a brief history of the festival that included a lot of tee-shirts and one Cabbage Patch doll, Dustin and I pass through the beer tent to hear the live band.
The Large Midgets is a cover band with its heart in the 1980s and a lead singer that, in between songs, hurls tee-shirts and thong underwear printed with the band’s logo into the crowd. Lisbon, the night we visit, is more a sit-and-listen than a get-up-and-groove kind of audience, but Dustin and I determine to join the diehards in the middle of the street and dance. The singer is aiming a thong at a group of high school girls near the stage who seem to be in the midst of babysitting, when a man from the beer tent approaches us. His path to us is not a straight one, but when he reaches us he holds out a bottle cap, presumably from the bottle of beer in his other hand, and announces to me and Dustin, “I wish I had two of these!” He continues, tapping us each on the head with the bottle cap, “If I had two of these, I would crown you king”—tap— “and queen” —tap— “of dancing!” At which point we know the night cannot get any better. And when we are too tired to dance we walk back to the car, with sticky fingers and sweaty backs, with breath like pickled cabbage, and, in honor of our recent coronation, as regal a carriage as we can muster.
*not that anyone at Lisbon Sauerkraut Days abbreviates it as LSD
 | A. Kendra Greene writes essays about museums and lives in Dallas, where she counts down the days until the Oatmeal Festival in Bertram, and keeps notes on her adopted city at the blog Dallas Needs a Cheerleader. |
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Thanks, Kendra, for such an amazing tour of Lisbon Sauerkraut Days--or should I say, LSD? If you're looking for more Festival Friday fun, you can read about blood orange throwing and clowns at the Carnaval de Binche. I can't wait to share more festivals with you in the coming months. The National Hobo Convention (AKA, Hobo Fest), Trek Fest, and Mothman Festival will all be making appearances. Get excited!
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