Wisconsin's Oldest Cheese Shop Serves One Of America's Smelliest Sandwiches

Even by the standards of America's Dairyland, the city of Monroe, Wisconsin, takes cheese seriously. Located in Green County — which boasts the highest number of cheese factories in the state, which itself produces more cheese than many countries — Monroe is perhaps best known for its production and love of the infamously pungent Limburger cheese. Those curious to try America's smelliest sandwich can find it at the Baumgartner Cheese Store and Tavern, a beloved Monroe institution and one of Wisconsin's most legendary cheese shops, which has been serving Limburger sandwiches since 1931.

You may be be more familiar with Limburger's reputation than the cheese itself. In Mark Twain's comic yarn "The Invalid's Story,"  the smell of Limburger is mistaken for that of a rotting corpse. Still many others adore the stinky delicacy, arguing that once you get past the smell, which is a product of the bacteria grown on its surface during the aging process, its taste is surprisingly mild and nutty, with a texture similar to brie. As a sign posted within Baumgartner's proclaims: "Limburger — don't eat it with your nose".

A classic Baumgartner Limburger sandwich will include three slices of the cheese on rye bread, along with raw red onion and mustard. It's also often made with Braunschweiger, a German liver paste, and served with a mint on top. Speaking to PBS Wisconsin, one Baumgartner employee admitted it took six months before he was able to eat a whole one.

The divisive history of a stinky cheese

Today, Monroe's Chalet Cheese Cooperative is the only plant in America still producing Limburger — unsurprising, given the cheese's impact on local history. But in the 1930s, over 100 brands of Limburger were available, and Wisconsin was producing 7 million pounds of the cheese annually. Demand was so high that a local train line nicknamed the Limburger Express was put into operation to transport the cheese from Wisconsin to nearby cities.

This popularity was not universal. In 1935, after a package containing Limburger repulsed a postal worker in Independence, Iowa, the local postmaster banned future shipments from entering the town. Outraged, Monroe's own postmaster challenged him to a smell-off to determine if Limburger was too offensive to be mailed. In what became known as the Duel of Dubuque, both postmasters met and were confronted with twenty-five pounds of Limburger, plus pickles, rye, mustard, and pilsner. The Independence postmaster eventually admitted he had lost his sense of smell years before. "She will be royally received," he said of the cheese after the event.

Not everyone feels the same about Limburger's signature stink. After Louisville, Kentucky, implemented another ban on Limburger, some factories considered trying to make the cheese without its characteristic odor, but the cheese's devotees rebelled. Per Atlas Obscura, the journalist Damon Runyon wrote: "We would never accept any cheese under the guise of Limburger if it did not have the Limburger fragrance."

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