From [Your Hometown Here] With Love

This article is from the archive of The New York Sun before the launch of its new website in 2022. The Sun has neither altered nor updated such articles but will seek to correct any errors, mis-categorizations or other problems introduced during transfer.

The New York Sun

Last Monday night at Edward’s, an American bistro in TriBeCa, the place was packed, the vibe was festive, and the scene at virtually every table was the same: Happy customers were tucking into bowls of chili, chili-cheese hot dogs, and some seriously nasty-looking pizza. A woman at the table next to mine took a bite of pizza, smiled, and said, “It’s not very good – just like I remember!”

This is Cincinnati Night, an event that’s become a hit with New York’s surprisingly large community of Cincinnati expatriates. They convene at Edward’s every few months (there’s no set schedule, and the hostess told me the next gathering is slated for “sometime in September”) and enjoy the Cincinnati favorites that the owner – a Cincy expat himself – has flown in for the occasion: Skyline chili, Montgomery Inn ribs, LaRosa’s pizza, and Graeter’s ice cream.

If you’ve never heard of any of those brands, well, that’s sort of the point. Despite our increasingly homogenized, chain-driven culture, pockets of regionalism still exist across America’s culinary landscape, and nothing reminds a homesick emigre of his native turf more than familiar tastes and smells.

If you’re from Cincinnati, that means chili first and foremost, preferably from Skyline, generally considered the Queen City’s foremost chili venue. At Edward’s (136 W. Broadway, 212-233-6436), as in Ohio, it was available “three-way” (chili and grated cheese served over spaghetti), “four-way” (add either onions or beans), or “five-way” (add onions and beans).

“This is pretty authentic,” proclaimed my friend John, who spent his teens in Cincinnati, as he sampled our table’s bowl of fiveway chili.” It’s got that hint of cinnamon, and the ratio of chili to spaghetti is just about right.” The same couldn’t be said,alas,for our chili-cheese franks – or Coneys, as they call them in the Midwest – because the hot dogs were too big. “In Cincinnati, the hot dogs are just a few inches long,” John said.” People order lots of them at a time and just knock ’em back. But these look like regular New York hot dogs.”

The pizza was as bad as it looked (“It isn’t good in Cincinnati either,” John said), and the ribs were horribly dry, but Graeter’s ice cream was a revelation: dense, rich, and explosively flavored. The mint chocolate chip was as minty as any ice cream I’ve ever tasted, and the mocha chip was a java-driven treat. Unfortunately, Edward’s had already sold out of the night’s allotment of Graeter’s specialty, black raspberry chip.

Although Cincinnati Night is probably the city’s most comprehensive attempt to transplant regional American food to New York, other regional specialties are scattered around the city’s menus. I’m not talking about things like Philadelphia cheesesteaks or New Orleans gumbo, which long ago transcended their hometowns and have now become more national than regional. I’m talking about things most people have never heard of, like Graeter’s ice cream.

A great example of this distinction is available at Bonnie’s Grill (278 5th Ave., Brooklyn, 718-369-9527), the Park Slope burger and sandwich shop run by a pair of guys from Buffalo. As you’d expect, they serve Buffalo wings; what you probably wouldn’t expect, unless you’re from Buffalo yourself, is that they also serve beef on weck, which is rare, thinly sliced roast beef served on a salt- and caraway-encrusted bun called a kummelweck. Typically accompanied by a generous dollop of horseradish, it’s ubiquitous in and around Buffalo. But unlike chicken wings, it never made the jump beyond its native city.

“We have to cheat a little, because we can’t get real kummelweck rolls down here,” co-owner Mike Naber said one recent evening. “We asked so many bakeries to make them for us, but nobody would do it because we weren’t going to order enough of them. So we get kaiser rolls, brush them with an egg wash, sprinkle them with salt and caraway, and then bake them for a few minutes.”

The result is very similar to the beef on weck I’ve had in Buffalo, and a fun shout-out to Mr. Naber’s past. “We sell about half a dozen of them a day,” he said. “Even people who’ve never heard of beef on weck – which is most people – like the description of it on the menu.”

Ultimately, of course, food strongly associated with another place will never taste quite right in New York. How can it, without the surrounding context of place and culture? Still, these foods are good reminders of America’s diversity, gastronomic and otherwise. You can make a patriotic gesture by sampling the regional fare at these New York eateries:

* HOPE & ANCHOR (347 Van Brunt St., Brooklyn, 718-237-0276): This Red Hook restaurant’s name will strike a chord with anyone from Rhode Island, whose state flag features the word “Hope” and an anchor.The menu features one nod to Rhode Island’s robust food scene: clamcakes, which despite the name are not like crab cakes. Clamcakes are deep-fried fritters, much like hushpuppies, but the batter is spiked with hunks of fresh-shucked clams. Hope & Anchor’s version skimps a bit on the clams, but the accompanying malt vinegar dipping sauce is a nice touch.

* VIRGIL’S (152 W. 44th St., 212-921-9494): Barbecue menus all over town are loaded with Carolina-style this and Memphisstyle that, plus assorted references to Texas, St. Louis, and Alabama, but only Virgil’s offers the local specialty of Owensboro, Kentucky: barbecued lamb. Actually, in Owensboro they call it mutton, but let’s face it, nobody would order it in New York if Virgil’s called it that. By any name, its rich lamb flavor is almost good enough to make Virgil’s tourist scene tolerable.

* CLEMENTE’S MARYLAND CRABHOUSE (3939 Emmons Ave., Brooklyn, 718-646-7373): New York has always been a lobster town, but it’s easy to forget that at Clemente’s, where the crustacean of choice is the blue crab. The crabs are served in the classic Baltimore style: no plates, no silverware, just a sheet of butcher paper spread out on your table and big pile of Old Bay-seasoned crabs unceremoniously dumped thereupon. I recently brought along a Baltimore acquaintance, who quibbled with the preparation method (“These crabs were boiled, not steamed!”), but I couldn’t help noticing that she finished every last crab put in front of her – and some that were in front of me, too.

* THE SHAKE SHACK (south end of Madison Square Park, Madison Ave. and 23rd St., 212-889-6600): As a native New Yorker, it pains me to say this, but here it is: New York is a lousy hot dog city. Yes, Nathan’s is fine, and Gray’s Papaya is fun, but go to Detroit,Atlanta,or Los Angeles,and you’ll see how lame our hot dog scene is. Better yet, go to Chicago, where the hot dog is practically a religious totem, and is decorated like one too: The standard Chicago dog is dressed with tomato wedges, chopped onions, bright green relish, pickle spears, little chile peppers (endearingly called “sport peppers”), mustard, and celery salt, invariably served on a poppy seed bun. Now that’s a hot dog.To see for yourself, head over to the Shake Shack, where they serve a reasonable facsimile of a Chicago dog (although the tomato slices are too small and for some reason they’ve added lettuce, which no real Chicago outlet would ever put on a frank).

And for all you Cincinnati folks who can’t wait for the next gathering at Edward’s, here’s an item of note: Alias (76 Clinton St., 212-505-5011) has goetta – Cincinnati’s wonderful pork/beef/oats breakfast sausage – on the brunch menu.


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