When I learned that we would be spending Thanksgiving in Cincinnati this year, turkey and the traditional fixings were definitely not the only dishes on my mind (man cannot live on stuffing alone), as southwestern Ohio is known as one of the chili capitals of America. Why Cincinnati? Apparently, a number of Macedonian and Greek immigrants to the city started selling a local version of chili con carne in the early 20th Century as part of the offerings at their hot dog stands and the trend took off from there. Today, there are a few fast food chili franchises (such as Skyline and Gold Star, whose little chili dogs with mustard are one of my favorite guilty pleasures) that dominate the local market; however, I had recently read about an independent chili purveyor named Camp Washington Chili (CWC) that's been in business since 1940 still ladling out bowls of its famous chili at a diner in the namesake neighborhood of the city. This, I thought, would be the perfect place for us Hackknives to grab lunch one day to break the cycle of nearly weeklong Thanksgiving food monotony.
The Camp Washington neighborhood, named for a military training camp sited there during the Mexican War in the 1850s, is located a few miles north of downtown Cincinnati and reflects the blue-collar, industrial vibe that distinguishes much of the metro area (if you travel there via I-75 South like we did, you pass right by the gargantuan Ivorydale soap works, formerly the hub of Procter & Gamble's worldwide production). CWC is just a stone's throw from the expressway in a modern diner - the original restaurant was demolished in 2000 when Colerain Avenue was widened (there's a nice portrait of the old building on the wall, underneath the James Beard Award plaque). Despite the new digs, the chili recipe has not changed: patrons can get chili served plain or with beans in a bowl, moving up to a plate if they opt to go 3-way (chili on top of spaghetti and smothered with finely shredded cheddar cheese), 4-way (same, but add chopped onions), or 5-way (throw beans on there as well), plus oyster crackers if you please. Other chili offerings include the house good stuff poured on fries or on hot dogs. Invoking the "go big or go home rule", I chose a plate of 5-way chili and a chili dog for comparison.
When the order arrived at the table (see photo above), my first thought was "Gee, they must go through a s$%&tload of shredded cheese in this place"; indeed, if not for the bun, a casual observer might be hard-pressed to identify which plate held the hot dog. After a few bites, however, the picture was crystal-clear: the 5-way chili was tremendous, with nice notes of cinnamon and cloves melding with the ground beef (at least that's what I think it was - no way to be sure) and sauce, and a slight hint of grease holding the whole production together. Not quite as enticing was the chili dog, as the sausage itself seemed to be pallid-gray and mostly flavorless, an afterthought underneath a riotous mound of other ingredients. Still, this was dime store chow done fabulously well - I'm already thinking about my next plate of 5-way on our return trip (I'm also looking forward to trying a side of goetta, the local meat-and-oatmeal breakfast sausage developed by the city's German population), which will hopefully be not too far off.
As you might expect, we spent the remainder of our visit to Ohio stuffing ourselves to the gills, but we weren't overindulged enough to skip lunch on the way home to the Commissary. Our return trip ended up conveniently passing through West Lafayette, IN during lunch hour, just in time for us to grab a quick bite at one of my favorite places, Triple XXX Drive-In. TX3 has been a Purdue institution since it opened in 1929 as one of many "thirst station" outlets across the country selling Triple XXX Root Beer (based in Galveston, TX). The owners claim to be the oldest drive-in restaurant in Indiana and the last thirst station selling Triple XXX Root Beer (which continues to be produced, by the way). Much has changed in the Levee neighborhood where TX3 is located - just in the 20-odd years since I graduated, an entire apartment, retail, and entertainment village has sprouted where there were formally dive bars and budget motels, but the drive-in is still slinging top-quality hash (in the form of great burgers and hubcap-sized pancakes) from within its distinctive orange-and-black structure. I started out eating here as a not-very-worldly college student (having breakfast while perusing the Sunday paper), returned several times as an adult (one of my proudest foodie experiences occurred here, as I managed to stomach, even enjoy, a Purvis burger topped with peanut butter after spending the morning at a nearby hog rendering plant - charming, I know), and now can say that I've dined here with my kids.
TX3 has no tables (only counter seating) and it's gotten increasingly difficult to get in since they were featured on Diners, Drive-Ins, and Dives a few years ago, so we were fortunate to get 4 stools together (no doubt some of the crowd was drawn away by the Indiana-Purdue football game going on at the stadium up the hill). Hackknife Jr. and Hackknifette were happy to color while waiting for lunch (see photo above).
The burgers and milkshake are all made to order from fresh ingredients (nothing frozen here). I went for the Boilermaker Pete (3 patties with American cheese and grilled onions) and the house onion rings, along with the root beer, of course. This burger (see photo below) was much better than the Boilermaker Pete facsimiles that the kitchen staff in the dorms would occasionally serve (not that we cared - we scarfed them up anyway, fodder for high metabolism).
I've never had the house milkshake (Mrs. Hackknife tried a vanilla one and can vouch for its awesomeness), nor the pork tenderloin sandwich (an item that's popped up on my radar screen since having spent some time in Iowa a while back), but I suspect they'll both be on my next order ticket. Until then, Boiler Up!...
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