CINCINNATI RESTAURANT REVIEW: Skyline Chili
Throughout the United States, culture is shaped and exemplified by differences in regional cuisine. Most of these, from Texas brisket to Maine lobster rolls to Louisiana gumbo to Nashville hot chicken, are beloved by locals and visitors alike. However, one example bucks that trend: fiercely defended by the people who grew up eating it, but absolutely reviled by almost everyone else who is (un)lucky enough to come into its orbit. And that, of course, is Cincinnati chili.
A bit of background, if you are blessedly not familiar. Cincinnati chili was first invented over 100 years ago by Greek immigrants to the Queen City (not Charlotte, the other one), who drew upon their Mediterranean roots to create a thin meat sauce, heavily seasoned with baking spices, somewhat similar to the lamb component of moussaka. A few decades later Skyline Chili was born, and it has become the dominant chain synonymous with the dish, with dozens of locations across southern Ohio, northern Kentucky, and the surrounding areas. Due to its unusual level of sweetness, it gets a ton of negative press, and is often referred to as America's worst regional foodstuff. So obviously I had to try it.
I was weirdly excited to sample this monstrosity on a recent #businesstrip to the Athens of the West (hilariously they actually used to call it this, look it up), and had scouted out a Skyline outpost conveniently located across the street from my hotel for lunch. However, disaster struck, and the restaurant was unexpectedly closed that day due to an equipment issue. Since this was a one night only trip, I feared my only chance to taste the sludge had evaporated, as even I was not brave enough to dine at the CVG airport location before a 6:30 AM flight the following morning, and I highly doubt I'll ever return to Cincinnati in my life (I often wistfully ponder this when I depart somewhere after a trip, that it might be the last time I ever go there, but in this case I was totally ok with it). But fortune smiled upon me, as there happened to be a Skyline Chili outpost at the venue I was visiting that night, so I pounced upon the opportunity the universe provided.
Before getting into what I ate, let's talk about the usual Skyline experience. Cincinnatians' preferred method for chili delivery is atop a bowl of... spaghetti (which apparently you are meant to cut into bites with a fork and knife??). This amalgamation is called a "two-way", though most opt for at least the third crucial component, a mountain of very finely shredded cheddar cheese, which makes it a "three-way". Scandalous as it may sound, there's also the possibility of a "four-way" or "five-way", with onions or/and beans served alongside. Some people eschew the noodles for a hot dog, which I guess sounds a bit less weird, though I've never really been a fan of this combination, even with real chili.
At the Riverbend Music Center, however, there was no pasta to be found. The only option was what they called a "Walking Taco", rather offensive to me as a Texan, because this was just a frito pie in a cup. Admittedly this was probably the most practical way to consume chili at a concert (psychotic behavior, I know, but desperate times called for desperate measures), though I am still sad I didn't get to experience the real deal. So what makes this stuff so controversial? The biggest issue is that it is aggressively seasoned with cinnamon, allspice, and chocolate, giving it a bizarrely sweet flavor that just doesn't feel right in this kind of savory dish. More than anything I got a ton of nutmeg, reminiscent of pumpkin pie more than the spicy, meaty stew I know and love. Sure, it doesn't have to burn your face off like Texas chili, but there's a certain expectation to taste chili powder rather than spices that are more welcome in Christmas cookies. Extremely bizarre that this has basically become the identity of a major city.
The second issue is the consistency: instead of a hearty, thick mixture, Cincinnati chili is thin and liquidy, closer to a gravy or a runny bolognese (or, if you prefer a more unpleasant comparison, a certain bowel condition that is very hot in the streets these days, which coincidentally a bowl of Skyline might precipitate. The lead programmer for Adrian Reviews, who is both my good friend and a noted diarrhea-haver, can confirm, though we will leave his name out for HIPAA reasons). A wooden spoon certainly would not stand up in the pot. I guess this is better for serving with spaghetti, but that is a quintessential "adding insult to injury" situation. The substantial portion of waxy cheese didn't really add much.
One thing that Texans might find comforting is the lack of beans in the blend (they are only added ex post facto in one of the multi-way orders described above), but in my very correct opinion, this is actually a negative. Allow me to get on my soap box for a moment: the try-hards that claim that "real" chili cannot have beans (which apparently includes the International Chili Society) drive me insane. God forbid that you have some texture and mouthfeel. I guess the argument is that the legumes somehow mask the flavor of the meat, but, like, learn how to cook then. It's wild how people here in Texas just reflexively spout this nonsense, indoctrinated since birth by Big Livestock. But I'm here to put a stop to this madness. I'm often told "Adrian, you are a great challenger of societal norms, many are calling you the Rosa Parks of your generation", and I always look back at my reflection and say "you know what, you are absolutely right". So, please, don't be afraid to join me and include beans in your chili. Surely this would have at least slightly improved the soupy consistency of Skyline.
Was this the worst thing I've ever eaten? No, but it definitely is the worst place I've reviewed on the site (apologies that this was not your typical post, as I only tried the one item, but I felt the people needed to know). I shudder to imagine what the true, spaghetti-centric version is like (the frito pie – I refuse to use that other name more than once – at least had the benefit of some crunch), but I don't think I'll ever get the (dis)pleasure. It goes without saying, but Skyline Chili will NOT be added to my Beyond Houston guide.
NEXT UP: Checking back in at one of Memorial's best restaurants