In the summer of 1981, when I was 17, my father and I drove around upstate New York to check out some colleges that I might attend the following year. As we made our way through Albany, Syracuse, Binghamton, Ithaca, and Buffalo, we encountered two delicious regional foods we’d never tried before, although we had begun to hear about one of them back home on Long Island.

The one we’d heard about, of course, was Buffalo chicken wings, which by that time had been an upstate institution for more than a decade and was beginning to spread beyond its home base. Two dozen years later, Buffalo wings have become an international phenomenon, and the term “Buffalo seasoning” has become a catchall marketing term in the food-service industry, where you can now find everything from Buffalo shrimp and Buffalo potato skins to packets of Buffalo dry spice rubs. As if to underscore how far the dish has come from its city of origin, both geographically and in the public mind, many of these products are labeled and listed on menus as “buffalo” – small “b” – instead of “Buffalo.” Hey, you don’t associate french fries with France, do you?

The other dish, which we sampled in Binghamton, was called spiedies (pronounced “SPEE-deez”). At first glance, they looked like kebabs, but the meat had been soaked in a sensational garlicky herb marinade, and there was an appealingly ritualistic quirk to how they were served and eaten – more on this later. We found spiedies addictive, and we were certain they’d soon catch on elsewhere, just as Buffalo wings were starting to do.

What I didn’t know back then – although I soon learned, because I ended up attending SUNY-Binghamton and pretty much majored in spiedie consumption – was that spiedies had already been around for at least 20 years before Buffalo wings were even invented, but had stubbornly refused to migrate beyond the Binghamton region. Today, while Buffalo wings spread around the globe, and other regional American foods such as Philly cheesesteaks and Chicago-style deep-dish pizza expand beyond their original turf, spiedies remain positively ubiquitous in Broome County but virtually unheard of elsewhere – a rare example of true regionalism in our increasingly homogenized world. Fortunately, spiedies are easy to make at home, and are ideal for summer grilling, no matter where you live.

To make spiedies, you start with cubed meat. Lamb or pork is best, although beef, veal, chicken, or game is sometimes used. Whichever meat you choose, it has to soak at least overnight – and for up to a week, if you can wait that long – in spiedie sauce, which is a marinade featuring oil, vinegar, garlic, and herbs (see accompanying recipes). When you’re ready to cook, you transfer the meat to skewers and grill it over charcoal. Since the long-term marination brings a powerful infusion of flavor, I’ve found that it’s good to add some wood chips to the charcoal to add an extra boost of counterbalancing smokiness.

Simple enough, right? But here’s the ritualistic part: The cooked kebabs are served with slices of soft, squishy Italian bread. To eat the spiedies, you take a slice of bread in one hand a hot skewer in the other, use the bread as a mitt to wrap around the meat, and then pull to remove the skewer. Voila – you’ve created a mini sandwich. That’s a spiedie. Some people forgo the skewer, preferring to cook the meat cubes on a griddle and using a spatula to shovel them onto a hero roll, but as far as I’m concerned that’s not a spiedie – for starters, you lose that char-grilled essence, plus the bread-and-skewer ritual is crucial to the full experience.

But either way, as you’ll discover upon digging in, the marinade transforms the meat into one of the tastiest treats you’ve ever had the pleasure of devouring. The flavor is simultaneously tangy and earthy, salty and garlicky, with a touch of charcoal smokiness. The marination turns the meat tender but not mushy, and the simple white bread is the perfect neutral backdrop to let the meat’s flavors harmonize. It’s a remarkably satisfying meal.

The term “spiedie” comes from the Italian spiedo (plural spiedi), which means “spit” or “skewer.” As this derivation suggests, spiedies were developed by Binghamton’s Italian immigrant community. Specific accounts vary, but the most common version credits one Augustine Iacovelli, who opened a restaurant called Augie’s in 1939. His spiedies, based on the skewered meat he remembered from his native Abruzzi, were an instant hit, and soon restaurants, taverns, and corner groceries all over the Binghamton area were setting up sidewalk spiedie grills.

Most agree that the original spiedies were made from lamb, cooked on wooden skewers, and basted but not marinated. But by the time I got to Binghamton in the early 1980s, metal-skewered pork was the standard, and long-term marination was routinely cited as the key element that distinguished spiedies from other kebabs. It was a classic case of Americans taking an immigrant food and adapting it into something uniquely their own.

These days, spiedies are an integral part of Binghamton life. They’re served at countless restaurants and bars (if you’re passing through, the best outlet is Sharkey’s, 56 Glenwood Ave., 607-729-9201), and the local supermarkets serve pre-marinated spiedie meat, along with bottled marinades from local companies (the best of these is Salamida’s, whose sauce can be mail-ordered from www.spiedie.com). Spiedies have become such a source of local pride that there’s even an annual Spiedie Fest, which takes place on the first weekend of August and features a cook-off in which local contestants vie for top spiedie honors. (For details on this year’s festival, visit www.spiediefest.com).

Nearly 25 years after I first encountered them, I still can’t understand why spiedies haven’t become more widely popular. But maybe it’s just as well that they’ve stayed confined to their home base. Just as with goetta, the Idaho Spud, and coffee milk (a Cincinnati breakfast sausage, a northwestern candy bar, and the state drink of Rhode Island, respectively), there’s a certain charm in finding a local delicacy that resists the currents of our mass-produced, franchised culture. If that means I have to make my own spiedies instead of having them at a New York City eatery, so be it. And if I ever get a hankering for spiedies in their natural habitat, Binghamton’s only about a three-hour drive away.

Sharkey’s – Style Spiedies

Sharkey’s, Binghamton’s premier spiedie venue, would never disclose the recipe for its marinade. But this formulation, which a friend and I came up with while attending college in Binghamton, creates a reasonable simulation of the Sharkey’s experience.

1 1/2 teaspoons salt
1 1/2 teaspoons pepper
3 teaspoons parsley
1 teaspoon oregano
2 tablespoons fresh mint
1 cup vegetable oil
4 cloves of garlic, minced
1 large onion, chopped
Juice of 1 lemon
1/3 cup vinegar
3 pounds boneless lamb, pork, beef, veal, or chicken, cut into 1-inch cubes
Italian bread, for serving

Combine all ingredients except the meat and bread in a large, nonreactive bowl. Reserve 1/2 cup of marinade for later use. Add the meat to the remaining marinade, refrigerate, and let soak at least eight hours and up to one week (eight-hour maximum for veal, or else it will become mushy).When ready to cook, thread marinated meat onto skewers, about seven cubes to a stick. Grill over charcoal, adding a cup of water-soaked wood chips to the fire if you like. Cook until meat is browned, two to three minutes a side, basting with reserved marinade, being careful not to overcook. Serve each skewer with a slice of soft Italian bread, which should be used as a mitt to remove the hot meat from the skewer.

White Wine Spiedies

This recipe is particularly good for chicken spiedies, but it also works with other meats.

1 cup vegetable oil
1/2 cup dry white wine
3 tablespoons lemon juice
4 tablespoons Worcestershire sauce
1/4 cup chopped fresh sweet basil
1/4 cup chopped Italian parsley
3 tablespoons chopped fresh mint
4 cloves fresh garlic, chopped
1 1/2 teaspoons salt
1 1/2 teaspoons pepper
3 pounds boneless chicken, or other meat, cut into 1-inch cubes
Italian bread, for serving

Prepare in the same manner as Sharkey’s-style spiedies, above.

Lamb Spiedies

This formulation, featuring red wine, wine vinegar, and olive oil, is particularly well suited for lamb, although it also works with other meats.

1 cup red-wine vinegar
1/2 cup dry red wine
1 cup olive oil
3 tablespoons dried oregano
3 tablespoons chopped parsley
2 cloves garlic, chopped
2 tablespoons dried basil
4 tablespoons chopped fresh mint
2 tablespoons lemon pepper
Salt and pepper to taste
3 pounds boneless leg of lamb, or other meat, cut into 1-inch cubes
Italian bread, for serving

Prepare in the same manner as Sharkey’s-style spiedies.