Hello, Cleveland Part 3

It was past noon and we had decided to have lunch at Sterle’s, a Slovenian/Eastern European restaurant where we have attended many family polka parties and enjoyed sinfully rich and fattening meals of fried pork chops, Slovenian sausage and home fries, and sauerkraut washed down with Lasko beer.  Depending on how strong our death wish was that day, we would top off the meal with coffee and a generous slice of apple strudel.  Sterle’s was a given for lunch, but we hadn’t quite worked up an appetite for their “diet….what diet?” fare.

 We talked about how Raddell’s was close by, just a few exits down the highway in Collinwood.  Raddell’s is a butcher shop that sells our beloved traditional Slovenian sausages that we serve at Easter and Christmas.  Lucky for me, they ship to Texas and I have turned many a friend on to this tasty, tubular treat.  I usually place my orders with Eddie or Tom, the owner.  Julie suggested that we swing by Raddell’s since she had never been there, either.  What the heck?  Why not go to Raddell’s and meet my sausage princes in person?  I was beside myself with joy.  Not only was I going to partake of my first Sterle’s meal in four years, but I was going to purchase FRESH sausages and possibly even zelodec, a Slovenian-style lunch meat, similar to Italian Genoa salami. 

We pulled off the highway and Julie shouted, “There it is!”

“Where?”

“Right there!”

Raddell’s website boasts that it sits on Frankie Yankovic Square in the historic Waterloo Road area of Collinwood.  I had pictured a quaint town square, with Raddell’s at one end in an old, framed structure, and possibly an old record store (stocked with polka music, of course), and maybe a café.  Instead, all I saw was a fairly new brick building sitting on what was Cleveland’s equivalent to an access road, which I guessed was the famed Waterloo Road. Across the street was an auto parts store and there may have even been a Chinese restaurant next door.  I didn’t see any signs (other than the sign below) designating this area as the polka king’s old stomping grounds.

 Not to be discouraged, I eagerly hopped out of the car and Julie shouted, “Let me get a picture of you!”  I grabbed my parents and posed in front of the shop.  I know, how many people can say that they've posed for a photo in front of a sausage shop?  We were the subject of curious stares, but we didn’t care.  This was a red-letter day and we were not about to let anything ruin our exuberant mood.

We walked into the shop, which seemed a lot smaller inside than it did from the outside, probably due to the fact that Raddell’s makes its own sausages on site, which I’m sure requires a lot of space.  To my right were shelves of Eastern European dry goods such as spices, noodles, coffees, teas, cookies, and chocolates.  Immediately in front of me was the cold cuts counter, where they also serve fresh sausage sandwiches.  Standing in line for their sandwiches were two men that appeared to most certainly be of Eastern European descent and reminded me of how my uncles looked when I was a kid.  Julie was equally happy to be there:

To my immediate left was a display of towels embroidered with “Slovenian Kitchen” (yes, Julie and I each have one), “Hungarian Kitchen,” “Polish Kitchen,” etc.  

Beyond that….

My, I mean OUR, sausages!  I browsed through the rack of dry goods while Mom, Dad, and Julie made their purchases. 

I wanted to savor the moment, but the tiny shop was beginning to fill up fast, so felt somewhat pressured to make my selections.  I chose one pound of sliced zelodec, which I hadn’t smelled, let alone tasted, since I was in high school.  The smell brought back memories of taking our food to church to be blessed at Easter.  My dad would buy a big chunk of it at Malencek’s and we’d have fat slices of it on white bread for lunch.  Talk about a slice of heaven.  Raddell’s makes its zelodec with its sausage meat, so how could it NOT be fabulous?

I noticed that there were two “Pots and Pans” cookbooks sitting on top of the deli display, on sale for only $18.99.  This particular edition was published on December 19 (which is also Lance’s birthday), 1998, on the 72^nd anniversary of the Slovenian Women’s Union of America.  I had searched for this cookbook online, but couldn’t find one priced below $24.99 plus shipping and handling.  It includes recipes from the Union’s first cookbook, “Woman’s Glory – The Kitchen.”  (I know….feminists would have a hard time with this title, but it was first published in 1951, for Pete’s sake).  My dad, who did most of our family’s cooking while we were growing up, often used this cookbook.  I thought that it would be a perfect souvenir of my first trip to Raddell’s. 

I got back in line and eventually made it up to the sausage counter.  What to do?  Should I get the necklace of sausages or the vacuum-sealed packages?  I hadn’t snipped the string to separate sausages in years and I always loved how the butcher wrapped them in white butcher paper and put them in a paper sack.  Practicality got the best of me and I decided on the vacuum packs since I had to fly home.  I didn’t realize at the time that these little packages of perfection would cause quite a stir at the airport and prompt a thorough TSA hand search of not only my carry-on but my kids’ as well.  I also packed half a potica that Julie, Dad, and I made, which nearly created a national security scare, prompting the TSA agent to run an explosives test on it.  Maybe I should have flown into Cleveland instead of Columbus, where there was a reasonable probability that at least one agent would have an Eastern European heritage and would know a fine sausage when he saw it.

I placed my cookbook, zelodec, and sausages on top of the counter and the butcher started to ring up my purchases when my dad slyly slipped two large loaves of Orlando Italian bread in the middle of my loot (he had already checked out).  Nice one, Dad.  Very smooth.  I was so excited to actually meet my sausage sweethearts in person that I found myself babbling about how I’ve talked to them on the phone before and about how many Texans I’ve turned on to Slovenian sausages.  The guy stared at me blankly and politely thanked me for my purchases as he would any customer.  I didn’t take offense to his blasé reaction to my nervous chatter, recalling that the Raddell’s guys hadn't been all that chatty when I placed my phone orders.  Still, it didn’t dampen my spirits and I savored each of the six or seven minutes that I was in the shop.

I paid the butcher and grabbed my treasures, glancing around the shop one last time.  I pondered purchasing some coffee or tea from Slovenia, but the line was getting longer, so I decided against it.  My parents were already out the door (my dad isn’t one to linger), so I bid adieu to the sausages, pledging to visit them again next year.  We boarded the Sterle-mobile once again and headed to our lunch destination.