Sweet Indiana: Schrimpff's Candy

It turns out one great reason to visit Kentucky is in Indiana. The journey of my life has brought me to many unexpected places; geographically as well as spiritually and emotionally. I never would have thought that one of my favorite places in the second Louisville sojourn of my life would be a candy shop across the river. I am not even particularly fond of candy. I would rather spend my empty calories that lead to obesity on alcohol. If lemon drops were beer drops, then I would be more fond of candy.

If you are going to be in the Louisville area, I recommend a visit to Schimpff’s candy store in Jeffersonville Indiana as one of the coolest places to visit. The tour and demonstration turned out to be a surprisingly interesting education in 19th century candy making. The family business opened up in 1871. The candy shop has been making candy on site since 1891, and has been in the same family all that time. 

Getting to the candy store is a short walk across a pedestrian bridge from bustling and overgrown downtown Louisville to the sleepy mid 20th century time warp that is Jeffersonville, Indiana. Once over the river, it is just a few more blocks to the candy shop.

Walking across the bridge is worth the trip in and of itself. And old abandoned train bridge has been redesigned into a pleasant and popular pedestrian bridge to connect two alternate realities; Louisville vs. Jeffersonville. I remember when i was in medical school in the 90s, seeing this old train bridge in the middle of the river, with its connections to dry land removed on both sides. I always wondered why it was there, or why nothing better was ever done with it…or if not, then remove it. It had been disconnected from the river shores for decades, a mysterious section of a bridge that nearly spanned the river. During twenty years that I was gone from Louisville, someone had the foresight to make use of this bridge, converting it into what is now a very nice and quite popular pedestrian-only bridge.  

Once you make it over the river and through the quaint village of Jeffersonville, the candy destination is well worth it. Generations of candy makers run the store, descendants of the founders. They are charismatic, kind and jovial, and put on a good show as well as an education. They demonstrated the 19th century methods of making hard candy, and then gave us samples. They used tools that had been in the family business for over 100 years, heating sugar to deadly temperatures, stirring, cooling, forming into shapes, and finally sharing with the audience of the moment, all while entertaining and informing.  The event was such a convivial experience that I thought about shouting out that I had one of the golden tickets, in hopes they would take me back to the REAL secret factory, the secret world of “real” candy making. But then I saw  my reflection; wearing a blue shirt and twenty pounds overweight, I realized that I was the fat one that would be sucked up into a vat of chocolate. I could think of worse ways to die, but I was not ready to check out yet. 

I learned that the name “Lemon Drop” comes from the final step; the cook drops a just-cooled large sheet of hard candy onto a hard surface, allowing it to shatter into pieces. This is much better than if it had been named after the modern process, which would have given us “Impersonal Robotic Industrial Nutriontless Lemon Pellets” which would have been had to sell.  

Schimpff’s candy store is well worth the trip. They have a little 50’s style lunch counter, and a compelling candy museum. While their demonstrations are of hard candies; particularly lemon drops and red hots, they hand make all kinds of candies. There is plenty of chocolate for you chocolophiles. 

Visit their website, or better yet, visit them in person:

http://www.schimpffs.com

  

Bonapoo (Bonaroo 2015 as I experienced it)

Bonnapoo (Bonaroo 2015)

When I saw Florence and the machine in concert with my family in 2012, we had second row seats in a nice air-conditioned Fox theater in Detroit. On the way to Bonnaroo in 2015, I started worrying that we would see her at the back of a big sweaty mosh pit full of stoned patrons in a farmers field in Tennessee. 

But it was unrealistic of me to expect it to be that much fun. Of course I jest.. the open air venue holds fond memories for me. 

On the upside, I saw a lot of great concerts, and discovered some great bands that I either did not know or were far better than I realized, such as Bleacher and Gary Clark, Jr. My fiancé, my niece, my sisters and their husbands all agreed; we were glad we did it, and most of us are unsure if we would do it again or not. 

Usually I abhor gas station bathrooms and strenuously avoid public restrooms in general. After four days of outhouses at Bonnaroo I stop at a gas station on the way home. The mildly dirty rest room with stains and toilet paper on floor and brown stains on the lid looked four-star to me after a week at Tennessee Woodstock. At Bonnaroo, the rows of outhouses were personal challenges to concert goers; how far above the lid can we mound the human excrement?  The toilet paper, on the rare occasions it existed, served as a sort of glue to hold the mound together. When we went to relieve ourselves, we would refer to it as needing to take a bonnapoo. I do understand; a town with a normal population of 10,00 that swells to 85,000 annually does not have the infrastructure to handle the surge for one week out of the year. None the less, the waste management was deplorable. Our favorite bank of outhouses (a phrase I never imagined I would ever say) went bad the first night. Cathy noticed the rivers and puddles outside of it … after a week of drought, and no running water nearby. I watched a parade of women in sandals walk through it, getting their free e.coli pedicures. On the upside, I am not aware of any food poisoning or e. coli epidemics associated with the event.

The staff were universally rude and 90% of the time they either did not know the answer to even the simplest questions or gave the wrong answers. More often, they gave the wrong answers, in an air of blowing us off. This of course, led to recurrent episodes of walking 45 minutes instead of 5, to get to the right stage, the right campground, or shop.  (Excepting the head shops in easy-up tents. Those were everywhere.) The deplorable service created a great sense of community within the patrons, as we had to rely on each other to find answers and solutions. The camaraderie of the attendees was fun and almost made up for the Bonnapoo staff. 

I walked so many miles I ended up with three layers of blisters on my feet. I could have used a skin graft. But there were “taxis;” college kids driving golf cars. However, some of the Taxi drivers … well … maybe they were likely making too many personal purchases at the head shops. There was one driver in particular I caught a ride with who was incredibly aggressive. We drove through throngs of people, like you see on movies in India. This particular driver kept yelling at the crowd to “get to the right,” while pointing to her right. The oncoming pedestrians obeyed, moving to their right. And this made her madder. I even said, eventually “ummm, you know they are moving to THEIR right, right?” Which also made her mad. About that time, she actually pinned one poor fellow who was trying to cooperate, between the cart and a food truck. 

On the other hand, it was memorable. There were countless people in outrageous costumes, many dozens of topless women with painted breasts (a few did not bother with the paint), people carrying hilarious flagstaffs as a beacon for their groups. Hula hoopers, belly dancers, and spontaneous outbreak of harmless goofiness all made the event fun, and numbed the mind from the negative aspects. 

Most importantly, there was tons of great music. I am glad I went, I probably will not return. And yet it was one of the fondest memories of my life, a truly unique experience for me. It is something that in retrospect we as a family talk and laugh about but never bemoan, having by now all but forgotten the Bonapoo aspect of the experience. So if you are young, have lots of energy, don’t mind human body odor and random excrement… go!  You will see a lot of amazing bands, and possibly make new friends, and at least bond further with the friends and family who accompany you.