Cincinnati Chili

"This here ain't chili, son. This here's soup." I don't know if that quote was really delivered, or if it is apocryphal, but some people around Cincinnati say a Texan passing through once uttered this as he tasted a bowlful at one of Cincinnati / Northern Kentucky's hundreds of chili parlors.

To be honest no one will ever confuse the chili Cincinnatians have loved for over 80 years with Texas style chili, or any other style chili for that matter. Cincinnati chili, truly a dish unto itself, first appeared on the scene in the 1920s when Greek and Macedonian immigrants started modifying the stews of their homelands. What they came up with doesn't have big hunks of meat in it and it certainly is not going to take the top of your head off with hot spice; maybe a mild mouth glow depending on where you go and how the chef is feeling that day. To be brutally honest about it, the Texan was sort of right in what he said. Cincinnati chili is used more as a sauce for putting on top of things than eaten straight -- and putting it on top of things is something the citizens of Cincinnati and Northern Kentucky do to the tune of over 2 million pounds a year.

You do see people dashing some hot sauce onto the three-way before eating and I once worked with two fellows who would each request his own bottle of hot sauce and then empty the whole bottle onto his three-way. Sort of a Texas-flavored three-way, I suppose.

Hot sauce aside, the burning questions are: "How do you eat your three-way" and "What do you do with the oyster crackers?"

Some folks like to start out by digging down and scooping up a fork full of the hot spaghetti and chili along with a generous amount of the cool cheese so that the first few mouthfuls have a both warm and cool sensation. But this holds true for only the first few mouthfuls because the cheese melts into the spaghetti-chili mix as you eat. Others like to smoosh the cheese right into the mix and melt it at the very start so every forkful comes up as a delicious cheesy mass. Although I have never personally witnessed it, I have heard that some few souls even order the dish made with the cheese on the bottom so that it is pre-melted. Personal choices are all best explored over time.

Now as to the crackers, I have seen many people munch them down plain while waiting for the three-way to arrive -- something not to my taste. I have also seen folks pour hot sauce over them and eat them that way and I can attest, from having watched a couple of ladies do this one day, that hot sauce makes a really wicked stain on hospital whites.

Then there is the contingent that mixes the crackers right in with the three-way; some adding them all right at the start and some mixing in a few from time to time. My personal favorite method of disposing of the crackers is to wait until the spaghetti, chili solids and cheese are virtually all gone and all that is left is a plate of sauce with all those secret spices and then drop in the crackers and stir them around to soak up that last bit of tasty goodness. Okay, I do look at it and things pass through my mind like "How many calories are in this?" and "Gotta be grease in there," but it tastes so good -- and besides I don't eat this every day, right? I just end up thumbing my nose at the food police, promise myself to walk a few extra laps and wolf down the soggy, tasty crackers.

"Good" and "delicious" aren't really all that descriptive so how does it actually taste? I don't think I can truly describe it well. Mildly spicy, cheesy, maybe even a touch "exotic?" I can't really say, but I can tell you that when I introduced my quite conservative older sister, a rather finicky eater, to this cuisine many years ago she said: "If I lived here I would have to have this at least once a week.

You need to try it yourself. If you don't happen to live around Cincinnati and Northern Kentucky, some of the chain chili restaurants have spread to several other major Ohio cities; Louisville, Kentucky; places around Indianapolis, Indiana; some spots in Florida; and even Monroe, Michigan. Or you could order cans and do-it-yourself kits on-line, but remember – you've just gotta have that cheese.