Wurst Bar

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The scene changes, depending on the time of day and the day of the week. At one late-winter Friday lunch the bartender and I were the only females in the place, the tables populated by burly guys with beards and bellies, fleece and flannel. For much of a leisurely Sunday lunch, my family sat alone until we were eventually joined by two or three quiet couples. After high winds left the area without electricity for two days, the bar served a limited menu to an eclectic Saturday night crowd of all ages and affiliations. Tuesday night bingo brings in EMU students, a convention of kids with artificially elongated earlobes and tattooed figures crawling up their necks and down their arms onto fingers that play with smartphones, and Wednesday is a crowded Trivia Night after 8. The scene can be as diverting as the food, though the room--despite its tomato-red chandeliers and antler pendants, semi-circular booths, and high-top tables--feels a bit more warehouse-y than warm and inviting.

A noun rather than an adjective, the bar's name reflects its menu's focus--sausage. Made in-house, these links, whether traditional or exotic, are seriously good. Although I didn't sample all the many possibilities, each one I tried proved well made and uniquely seasoned, from the delicate rabbit and fig link to the robust duck and turkey option. A special "umami" bratwurst evoked the Asian accents of oyster and fish sauces, while the spicy Italian underlined bold, full flavors, as also did the North African-inflected bison-and-lamb merguez. Surprising me with its rich, juicy savor, heavily flecked with coriander seed, the poached PBR (as in Pabst Blue Ribbon) bratwurst triumphed as my favorite sausage. I don't think I've had a better bratwurst.