The Amish Bakery

Last summer we led a cycling camp called Cheese Country Hell Week . We hold this every summer in western Wisconsin for 8 days; this time around we had about 40 people in attendance.

The lead-off ride took us north of here into Amish country. I've done this beautiful route before. The countryside is lush in green growth; farmers grow corn by the truckload, and raise cattle. It is as idyllic as it is agrarian.

One group of people who live in the region are a sect of Amish. You know when you're near them when you start seeing horse poop on the roads.

Which makes for interesting riding when it's raining.

The Amish live in small clusters around the US. These Amish are not much different from those in Indiana and Ohio. Their houses are easy to spot, because there's a windmill out front, clothes hanging out to dry, and no electrical lines.

The numerous horse-drawn carriages were quaint, as were the occupants dressed in authentic Amish garb (including the kids). The 19th-century farm wagons and implements pulled by enormous draft horses were almost like we had time-warped backwards 150 years. The little schoolhouses every two miles allow for children to walk to school.

The destination of our route that day was a small Amish household that has a bakery in it. The bakery is now open 5 days per week (May through October only), and Friday is pie day. When I rode this route two years ago my friend John ordered me to sit down and wait while he selected two pies and borrowed a couple of forks. My task was to eat the pie, and then somehow muster strength for the 60 miles remaining. (No taxis in rural Wisconsin. Darn.)

This year the pies were just a little too hot, having just finished baking. My friend didn't mind--he grabbed a rhubarb custard pie and devoured the whole thing. As for me...well, wanting to make it back to my hotel before dark, I opted to split a pie tin full of delicious raspberry cream cheese danishes with another friend. Man-oh-man...we were in heaven. Supermarkets just don't get it.

Yeah, we all made it back OK. But the lesson for the day was simply understanding other cultures, and trying to accept them in spite of their differences. You see, it's easy to make fun of the Amish on TV and the internet, because they will never hear or see it.

But truth be known, these are among the kindest people in America. The matron of this home repeatedly filled a pitcher of water for us. I could hear her drawing the water from the pump room, meaning that she was working for us (a true servant attitude if there ever were one).

We may not ever understand this small religious subculture, but I have a new respect for them. I do not subscribe to their belief patterns and abstinence from modern conveniences, but I respect them nonetheless.

And I love their baking.