Tonight I was told I should blog about an entire week of trysts with Cincinnati-style chili joints. Additionally, that I should do similarly for barbecue places. While each of these jaunts (and subsequent posts) sound great in theory, I have some issues with them. First of all, I’m not hugely into Cincinnati-style chili (I’ll defend myself below). Second-of-ly, barbecue anything is gross (that’s my opinion and I’m sticking to it). Barbecue is one condiment I will probably always live without. And coming from the self-proclaimed Condiment Queen, that is serious business.
Back to defending myself re: chili … Call me crazy, but I’m not particularly fond of food that looks the same coming out as it does going in (too much information? too bad). Further, I don’t think it is particularly delicious. I don’t often eat coneys (if I do, I’ll take Phoney Coneys from Gold Star; 86 the mustard and sometimes the onion), and I all but entirely stay away from 3-, 4-, and 5-ways because I just don’t think they’re very good. If I’m going to Skyline, I’m most likely inebriated, and I’ll take the Chillito with spaghetti and sour cream. From either place fountain Mountain Dew is a must. Admittedly, I’ve not had chili from the real Cincinnati-style staples (see: Pleasant Ridge Chili, Camp Washington Chili, and Price Hill Chili et al), so I should probably check those out, huh?
Furthermore, I fancy myself a Cincinnati enthusiast generally; not necessarily an enthusiast of its unreasonable and not that awesome food. More so, I’m not one of those people who thinks the sun rises and sets with Gold Star, Skyline, Montgomery Inn, and Graeter’s. And they certainly do not define this great city. LaRosa’s, on the other hand, is the slam. But I’ll save that for another day.
Conversely, and even though I don’t really like chili or barbecue, that’s not to say, however, that isn’t a pretty great idea. In fact, I think this is a fantastic idea for the future—an idea I’ll definitely look into persuing. On second thought, maybe I’ll leave this kind of post to Date or another chili and bbq connoisseur. And/or someone with a digestive tract made of wrought iron.
My point here is this: the possibilities in this great city are endless, and they stem far beyond the “Cincinnati Staple Restaurants”. And, for that, I’m eternally grateful.