I Know Cincinnati Chili, and This Ain't It

“Can't even get decent food. Right after I got here, I ordered some spaghetti with marinara sauce, and I got egg noodles and ketchup.”--Henry Hill, “Goodfellas” (1990)

Let’s review.
Hometown: Cincinnati. Chili: Skyline. Surprise: Cincinnati chili served in West Chester. Danger: Cross-pollination of foodstuffs.
I went well prepared for my date with “4-Way Cincinnati Style Chili.” I memorized the legend of the Lambrinides Family, who started their first Skyline Chili parlor overlooking Cincinnati in 1949. I genuflected before my photograph of the Ludlow Avenue Skyline. I reread the testimonials I received from fellow Skyline lovers across Chester County, and took their passion as my lodestar.
Then the actual chili came.
Imagine you find yourself in some far off city, like Indianapolis or Des Moines, homesick for Philly, and the restaurant you’re seated in advertises a luncheon special of “Philadelphia Cheese Steak.” You order it with heightened anticipation, ready for a taste of home, and then the waiter brings you a roast beef sandwich with melted Swiss and a few slices of onion on a Kaiser roll. Get the picture?
The only thing the dish placed in front of me on Wednesday had in common with Cincinnati chili is the word “Cincinnati,” and I would not be the least bit surprised to learn they spelled that incorrectly.
“It” – I find no other word for the meal useful here -- was in a bowl. Four-ways come on a plate, an oval plate. “It” had strands of what appeared to be fettuccini swimming in its dark meat sauce. Skyline is served with a deep bed of spaghetti. “It” had a sprinkle of melted cheese swirled in the center of the bowl. The four-way has a mound of grated cheddar cheese, piled high. “It’ had a few slices of red onion. Skyline servers plop spoonfuls of chopped white onions on the chili with abandon.
The taste itself was nothing at all comparable to what I grew up eating, and was no improvement. About halfway through the bowl I came across a bay leaf. Cincinnati chili has cinnamon, cayenne, cocoa, vinegar and maybe a little Worcestershire. Bay? No way.
I don’t know who the chef is who thought he could fool anyone with this deceitful concoction, but I am sure he is a good person at heart. Kisses his children good night. Pays taxes on time. Returns shopping carts to parking lot corrals.
What made him decide to label this monstrosity “Cincinnati chili,” I can thus only conclude involves something dark in his past having to do with my hometown.
But what is most frustrating is that it could have worked. People in West Chester would love Skyline! Don’t take it from me, take it from Alice Wathen, age 12, Hillcrest Drive, Cincinnati, Ohio, AKA, my niece:
“I think that Skyline could be great anywhere. Even though Skyline is sort of the “Cincinnati Thing,” if the quality is good, then after eating just one meal, you will be full. And after you eat your meal you will get that familiar, warm feeling of satisfaction and content. You should tell the people in West Chester to take this at heart.”
Thanks Alice, I will.