When I was digging into the history of the Polish Boy in Cleveland recently, I started to think about Ohio's other unique food favorites, and what they say about our culture.
For the uninitiated, a Polish Boy is a sandwich, not a person.
It's a messy kielbasa sandwich topped with coleslaw, French fries and barbecue sauce. It originated in the Cleveland area, as best as we can tell. It's a story of fusion cuisine that is deeply American: Black-owned barbecue restaurants brought Southern cuisine to Cleveland in the early 1900s, a place where Polish sausage was commonplace due to the city's Eastern European population.
But the Polish Boy is just one example of unique regional cuisine. I opened up the floodgates (a.k.a. one of our Slack channels at work) to ask the question, "What are the foods Ohio is known for?" I got enough responses to stock a dinner buffet. Cincinnati chili, with a hint of warming spices and served with spaghetti, remains polarizing. Sauerkraut balls, fried gems encasing cream cheese, sausage and sauerkraut, are a perennial favorite in Akron.
And did you know the Youngstown area has its own style of pizza? Brier Hill pizza, named after the Youngstown neighborhood where it originated, has a thicker crust, thick tomato sauce, green peppers and grated Romano cheese, not the usual mozzarella.
There's also Ohio Valley-style pizza, a square pie where cold cheese is added AFTER the pizza is baked, to melt as time goes on. Strange, but I've learned with all of these foods to withhold my judgment until I try it.
There's a pattern that emerges, to my eye (and tastebuds), as I was learning more about the regional foods of the state I've called home my entire life. Part of culture is food, and culture is created by the people who live in the area. For example, Barberton, southwest of Akron, has its own brand of fried chicken, originated by Serbian immigrants. It's served with a rice-and-tomato dish anointed with peppers that they inexplicably call "hot sauce" locally.
While not necessarily a "regional style," you don't have to go too far to find great international food in many Ohio cities, like tacos from the La Mexicana grocery store in Painesville, or Ferris Shawarma on Cleveland's western border.
The unique food speaks to the many immigrants and transplants who have settled in Ohio. The fact that their food has been embraced also suggests something deeper. Ohio is a welcoming place, and, also, the state benefits greatly from people of many different cultures being here.
The Midwest, Appalachia and "home"
Cooking is a big hobby of mine, something I owe, in part, to my mom, who made dinner for us most nights. Originally from Indiana, she made plenty of things that are now considered part of the Midwestern canon. Her "Greek chili" was just like Skyline's Cincinnati-style chili. What we called "hot chicken sandwiches" others call "cream chicken sandwiches" or "Ohio shredded chicken sandwiches." They're chicken cooked in cream of chicken soup and shredded. And you can't forget her tater tot feast, a casserole commonly referred to as "hot dish," with crispy tater tots baked atop a concoction of vegetables, beef, and yes, another can of soup, this one cream of mushroom. It seems Campbell's Soup has had a stranglehold on the Midwest's culinary scene for some time now.
Can Ohio truly lay claim to all these Midwestern staples, though? I'd argue we can. They're just as much a part of our culture as any other state's. When foods are served on dinner tables and as spreads at Super Bowl and Ohio State football parties so consistently, they become inextricably tied to our sense of place and our sense of belonging. They are intertwined with memories of home, of something bubbling away on the stovetop as you arrive home from soccer practice after school.
This piece wouldn't be complete without talking about another region I called home for many years. Although I live in Cleveland now, I lived in Southeast Ohio for much of my childhood, and adulthood, as I worked in Athens at a local newspaper. During that time, I learned a little about Appalachian food customs, from cooking with wild alliums, like ramps, to hunting for Ohio's native fruit, the pawpaw, or foraging for morel mushrooms (although I unfortunately have never found one myself).
These foods have sustained people for centuries, even before white settlers came here. I'm glad to see them embraced, as in the case of the Ohio Pawpaw Festival in Albany, just outside of Athens, or haute cuisine's use of morels. These foods are a key part of our culture and the history of our region that should not be lost.
And that brings me back to this: Ohio's food style is a mishmash of all sorts of things. We can't call it any one thing. Just like everywhere else, our food is a product of the people who have came before us and who live here now.
One thing is clear, though: Our food is delicious, it is important, and our food traditions go deep.
Did I miss anything? Let me know your favorite unique regional food by sending me an email at cmorris@ideastream.org. I'd love to come and try it, even if — like Cincinnati chili — it contains cinnamon for no apparent reason.
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