This Wisconsin born culinary curiosity both intrigues and polarizes: the cannibal sandwich.

This raw beef delicacy, typically served on rye bread with sliced onions, salt, and pepper, is a holiday staple for many Wisconsinites, particularly in the Milwaukee area. Despite its ominous name and health warnings, the cannibal sandwich remains a cherished tradition, deeply rooted in the state’s cultural and immigrant history. Let’s dive into the origins, evolution, and enduring appeal of this unique dish.

Origins: A German Immigrant Legacy

The cannibal sandwich’s story begins in the 1800s, when Wisconsin saw a significant influx of German immigrants. At one point, Milwaukee was dubbed the “German Athens of America” due to its vibrant German community. These settlers brought with them a dish known as mett or hackepeter, a minced raw pork or beef spread served on bread, often seasoned with salt, pepper, and onions. In Wisconsin, where cattle farming thrived, beef became the preferred meat over pork, transforming mett into what we now call the cannibal sandwich.

The dish’s practicality suited Wisconsin’s agricultural landscape. With easy access to fresh meat from local farms, German immigrants could prepare this simple yet flavorful dish for gatherings. The sandwich also served as a cultural anchor, preserving traditions from the Old Country in a new land. As Anna Altschwager from Old World Wisconsin notes, such foods were “a tie to where you came from,” even as languages and customs evolved.

While some sources speculate broader origins, linking the dish to the Tartars of Central Asia or French steak tartare, the German influence remains the most widely accepted explanation. Unlike the more refined steak tartare, which often includes capers, Worcestershire sauce, or a raw egg yolk, the cannibal sandwich is starkly minimalist, focusing on the texture of soft beef, crusty rye, and crunchy onions.

A Holiday Staple and Cultural Touchstone

The cannibal sandwich found its niche as a festive appetizer, particularly during Christmas and New Year’s celebrations. In Milwaukee, butchers like Bunzel’s Meat Market report selling over 1,000 pounds of raw beef and 250 pounds of onions during the holiday season, exclusively for cannibal sandwiches. The dish is often served on cocktail-sized rye bread or crackers, making it a perfect pre-dinner snack at family gatherings, church suppers, or even Green Bay Packers game watch parties.

For many Wisconsinites, the sandwich is more than food—it’s a vessel for memory and tradition. As Altschwager explains, “We want to maintain the tradition, and we want to give our kids the holidays that we remember.” Stories abound of first encounters with the dish, from children nervously trying it to avoid sibling teasing to guests reacting with shock, as in the humorous 1996 anecdote where a visitor mistook the name literally, sparking a playful family chant. These narratives underscore the sandwich’s role in creating shared experiences and cultural identity.

The dish’s regional nicknames—tiger meat or wildcat—add to its mystique, though the term “cannibal sandwich” remains the most evocative, if controversial. While no definitive source explains the name, it may stem from the raw, primal nature of the dish, with its visceral red beef evoking a tongue-in-cheek nod to cannibalism. Regardless, the name has stuck, cementing the sandwich’s place in Wisconsin lore.

Health Concerns and Controversy

Despite its cultural significance, the cannibal sandwich has faced scrutiny due to health risks associated with raw meat consumption. The Wisconsin Department of Health Services issues annual warnings, citing risks of Salmonella, E. coli, Campylobacter, and Listeria. Since 1986, eight outbreaks in Wisconsin have been linked to raw ground beef, including a 1994 Salmonella outbreak affecting over 150 people. The USDA recommends cooking ground beef to an internal temperature of 160°F to eliminate harmful bacteria, a precaution impossible with a raw dish.

Ground beef is particularly risky because grinding redistributes surface bacteria throughout the meat, unlike a whole steak where only the exterior is exposed. Health experts, including food scientist Elsa Murano, emphasize that even rigorous testing can’t guarantee safety. The Wisconsin Department of Health Services’ 2020 tweet warning against the dish went viral, sparking nationwide curiosity and some mockery from outsiders unfamiliar with the tradition.

Yet, many Wisconsinites remain undeterred, citing careful sourcing from trusted butchers and immediate consumption as mitigating factors. Dr. Zorba Paster, a Wisconsin physician, even advises using freshly ground, high-quality steak to reduce risks, rather than outright discouraging the practice. Butchers like Salmon’s Meat Products in Luxemburg emphasize their strict hygiene and state-inspected facilities to reassure customers. Still, health officials maintain that no raw meat is entirely safe, making the sandwich a defiant act of tradition for some.

Decline and Revival

The cannibal sandwich’s popularity has waned over time, reflecting broader shifts in American life. As fewer people lived on farms and concerns about food safety grew, processed and convenience foods overshadowed traditional dishes like pickled herring and liver sausage, which once shared holiday tables with cannibal sandwiches. Chef Justin Carlisle, who grew up eating the dish in Sparta, Wisconsin, notes that changing lifestyles and health consciousness have diminished its prevalence.

However, the sandwich endures, particularly in southeastern Wisconsin, and there are signs of renewed interest. Scott Podd, a butcher, reports increased demand, with thousands of pounds of ground round sold during the holidays and even daily orders year-round. For some, like Carlisle, its persistence is a point of pride, a way to preserve Wisconsin’s unique food culture against the tide of homogenization.

The Cannibal Sandwich Today

Today, the cannibal sandwich is both a culinary outlier and a symbol of Wisconsin’s heritage. It’s a dish that elicits strong reactions—delight from devotees, disgust from skeptics, and fascination from outsiders. While it may never regain its former ubiquity, its role in holiday gatherings and its ability to spark debate ensure its place in the state’s cultural fabric.

For those brave enough to try it, the recipe is simple: spread fresh, lean ground beef on rye bread or crackers, top with sliced raw onions, and season with salt and pepper. Sourcing from a reputable butcher and eating immediately are key to minimizing risks. Whether you’re a lifelong fan or a curious newcomer, the cannibal sandwich offers a taste of Wisconsin’s past, served with a side of defiance and nostalgia.