Cincinnati Food is often synonymous with one iconic dish: Cincinnati Chili. For those unfamiliar, this unique culinary creation might raise eyebrows, even spark debate. But for locals and those in the know, Cincinnati Chili isn’t just food; it’s a cultural touchstone, a taste of home, and a dish fiercely defended against any and all detractors. Let’s dive into why this clove-nutmeg-cinnamon infused, sauce-like chili is not only a perfect food in its own right but a quintessential part of the Cincinnati food scene.
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The Unique Allure of Cincinnati Chili: More Than Just Chili
While it’s true that Cincinnati Chili diverges significantly from the bean-and-beef stew conception of chili prevalent in other parts of the United States, this difference is precisely what makes it special. Critics, like the infamous Deadspin article that labeled it “abominable garbage-gravy,” often miss the point entirely. For those raised in Cincinnati and the surrounding areas, including Northern Kentucky (where even the Cincinnati Airport resides, for geographical context!), Cincinnati Chili is comfort food at its finest, evoking childhood memories and local pride. It stands proudly alongside other Cincinnati culinary staples like Graeter’s ice cream, goetta, and LaRosa’s pizza, forming the backbone of Cincinnati’s distinctive food identity.
Tracing the Roots: The Immigrant Story Behind Cincinnati Chili
The fascinating origin story of Cincinnati Chili is a testament to the rich tapestry of American immigrant culinary innovation. As food historian Dann Woellert meticulously details in his book, The Authentic History of Cincinnati Chili, the chili’s beginnings trace back to the 1920s. Brothers Tom and John Kiradjieff, Macedonian immigrants from Hroupisa (now part of Northern Greece), arrived in Cincinnati, joining their brother Argie who was already established in the grocery business. The neighborhood where they settled was a hub for Macedonian immigrants who had arrived before World War I.
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In 1922, the Kiradjieff brothers opened the Empress Chili Parlor in the Empress Burlesk theater building. They catered to a ready-made audience eager for familiar flavors from home. While Americans were already acquainted with chili-topped Coney Island hot dogs, the Kiradjieffs innovatively adapted a Mediterranean stew, infusing it with cloves, nutmeg, and cinnamon, and incorporating chili powder and other spices from their heritage. According to Woellert, this unique flavor profile was unlike anything the predominantly Germanic local population had ever encountered, and thus, a Cincinnati food legend was born. This marked the beginning of Cincinnati chili’s journey to becoming a beloved regional specialty.
Debunking Myths: Chocolate and Greek Origins in Cincinnati Chili
For Cincinnati natives, the connection between Cincinnati Chili and Greek cuisine, particularly dishes like moussaka and pastichio, feels almost axiomatic. Growing up with “coneys” and “three-ways” (more on these ordering terms later!) as standard school cafeteria fare, the Greek influence seemed self-evident. However, Dann Woellert challenges this widely held belief. While acknowledging the presence of Greek-Americans in the Cincinnati chili industry, Woellert argues that the cheese topping, a hallmark of Cincinnati Chili, was a later addition. He posits that the chili’s shared spices with pastichio—cloves, cinnamon, and nutmeg—are the extent of the Greek connection.
Woellert’s research suggests that the original Empress Chili menu featured simpler items: plain chili dogs and chili spaghetti, both familiar American dishes at the time. The evolution to serving chili over spaghetti, rather than mixed in, and the addition of the now-essential cheddar cheese, were customer-driven adaptations. He concludes that Cincinnati Chili is more accurately described as an Americanized Slavic-Mediterranean stew, adapted to local palates, rather than a direct descendant of Greek classics. And regarding another common myth, despite numerous “copycat” recipes online including chocolate or cocoa powder, a Cincinnati Enquirer investigation revealed that none of the local chili parlor owners admitted to using it in their secret spice blends. This dispels a persistent myth and reinforces the unique spice profile that defines authentic Cincinnati food.
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The Rise of Cincinnati Chili Parlors: From Empress to Skyline and Beyond
Empress Chili’s early success paved the way for a thriving Cincinnati chili parlor scene. In 1928, Nicholas Sarakatsannis, a Greek immigrant, sought employment at Empress Chili. According to the Dixie Chili website, he was hired and subsequently developed his own chili recipe. To avoid direct competition, Sarakatsannis established Dixie Chili in Newport, Kentucky, across the river from Cincinnati. In 1940, Camp Washington Chili, a James Beard America’s Classics Award recipient, opened near Cincinnati’s historic stockyards.
The expansion continued with Nicholas Lambrinides, another Greek immigrant, who arrived from Kastoria, Greece, and launched the first Skyline Chili in 1949. Later, in 1964, Jordanian brothers Dave, Charlie, Frank, and Basheer Daoud, purchased Hamburger Heaven and transformed it into Gold Star Chili by 1965, highlighting their signature dish. These iconic names, alongside Pleasant Ridge Chili (1964), Chili Time (1969), and others, form the bedrock of Cincinnati’s chili culture. While some, like the newer OTR Chili (which sadly closed in 2022), have come and gone, the enduring legacy of these chili parlors is undeniable in the Cincinnati food landscape.
Ordering Cincinnati Chili Like a Pro: Decoding the “Way” System
Navigating a Cincinnati chili parlor menu can initially seem like learning a new language, thanks to the “way” system. This numerical code, originally a shorthand for servers, dictates how your chili is prepared and served. Here’s your guide to ordering Cincinnati food like a local:
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One-way: Plain chili in a bowl. Rarely ordered, as it misses the essence of the Cincinnati Chili experience.
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Two-way: Chili served over spaghetti. A basic option, but often considered incomplete by chili aficionados. Simply referred to as “chili spaghetti.”
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Three-way: The quintessential Cincinnati Chili dish. Chili and spaghetti, generously topped with shredded cheddar cheese. This is the go-to for many and a true taste of Cincinnati food.
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Four-way: Adds either onions or beans to the three-way base. “Four-way onion” or “four-way bean” allows for customization.
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Five-way: The works. Chili, spaghetti, cheese, onions, and beans. A hearty and fully loaded Cincinnati chili experience.
For Chili Dogs (Coneys):
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Coney (or Regular Coney): Chili dog on a bun, typically with mustard and onions (unless specified otherwise).
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Cheese Coney: A coney topped with cheese.
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Chili Sandwich: A more substantial serving of chili on a bun.
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Chili-Cheese Sandwich: Chili and cheese on a bun.
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Alligator or Lizard: A coney with a dill pickle spear on the side. Specifics can vary by parlor.
Embracing the Cincinnati Chili Experience: Beyond the Dish
While ordering correctly is key, enjoying Cincinnati chili is also about embracing local customs. However, as a humorous anecdote illustrates, even in the realm of Cincinnati food, there can be overzealous purists. The author recounts witnessing a patron publicly scold their mother for twirling spaghetti at a Skyline Chili, rather than cutting it with a knife. This highlights the strong local pride associated with Cincinnati food, while also serving as a reminder to keep culinary enthusiasm within reasonable bounds!
Why the Controversy? Defending Cincinnati’s Culinary Icon
Despite its local adoration, Cincinnati Chili often faces harsh criticism from outsiders. Anthony Bourdain famously called it a “mutant hybrid.” A Tennessee Titans fan displayed a “Cincinnati Chili Sucks” sign at an NFL game against the Bengals. Even Cincinnati Enquirer editor Dan Horn penned a column titled “I hate Cincinnati chili..”
This negativity, exemplified by the scathing Deadspin review, often stems from a misunderstanding of what Cincinnati Chili is meant to be. It’s not traditional chili; it’s a unique, spiced meat sauce, served in a distinctive way. For Cincinnatians, this criticism can feel personal. Yet, as the saying goes, one person’s “atrocity” is another’s comfort food. Even the famously discerning Fran Lebowitz is on record as a Cincinnati Chili fan, proving its appeal can transcend regional boundaries.
Cincinnati Chili Beyond Cincinnati: A Taste of Home, Anywhere
Even when geographically separated from Cincinnati, the craving for Cincinnati food, specifically Cincinnati Chili, remains strong for those who grew up with it. The author, now living in Brooklyn, describes having canned Skyline Chili shipped to them and cherishing every bite. Upon returning to Cincinnati, a Skyline Chili visit is invariably the first stop after landing at the airport. The familiar blue straw, the aroma, the cheese-laden three-way – it’s a sensory experience deeply intertwined with memories of home.
The final touch, the oyster crackers, are another integral part of the Cincinnati Chili ritual. Whether crumbled into the chili or used as a palate cleanser with hot sauce, they complete the experience. Ultimately, Cincinnati Chili is about personal preference. There’s no single “right” way to enjoy it. And that, perhaps, is the greatest charm of this unique Cincinnati food: it’s an individual culinary journey within a shared regional tradition. So, the next time you’re seeking a truly distinctive and flavorful food experience, look no further than Cincinnati food and give Cincinnati Chili a try. You might just discover your new favorite comfort food.
