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Cincinnati Eats: Famous Chili and the Best Pie in Ohio

December 4, 2017 Comments Off read Attractions, Masticating With Mellzah, Midwest, Ohio, Travel, USA

Of course I was not going to take a day trip to Cincinnati and not eat the style of chili for which they are famous (or infamous, depending on one’s perspective on chili). I will tell you that I have never, never been to a city where chili is so heavily advertised and consumed. Chili restaurants in Cincinnati are the equivalent of Starbucks in Seattle: there’s one on every corner, and if you miss that one, there’s one less than a block away. Who is eating all this chili?! And pretty much all of their chili chain stores have drive throughs, which I also find a little mind boggling if only because chili doesn’t strike me as the consummate eat-on-the-go food. Like maybe, maybe I would concede this point if it was of the “frito pie/walking taco” variety where you dump chili and some fixings into an individual corn chip bag (there’s plenty of room in there, after all, given that each of them contains, on average, five to seven chips maximum) and eat it out of the bag with a fork. Or turn around and redump the contents of your bag into your mouth, I’m not the etiquette police. I can barely spell etiquette on the first try, much less put on pants and enforce a system of rigid and complex rules that seem archaic in modern society. Just, for the love of god, as you’re pouring chili and chips into your maw, please try not to burp at the same time.

Regardless, Cincinnati chili is a different beast altogether. Cincinnati chili is a spiced meat and tomato sauce melange that is used as a topping for two things: spaghetti, and hot dogs. It is NOT intended to be eaten by the bowl like chili con carne, and the people of Texas would probably rather blow Ohio off the map than refer to Cincinnati’s signature sauce as chili. If you decide on spaghetti, you can order your Cincinnati chili a number of ways. As in, literally, you tell the server whether you want your chili two way, three way, five way, etc. The least you can order your chili is two way, which is the chili plus the spaghetti. Three way: chili and spaghetti and cheese. To add to the confusion, not all of the ways are the same at all of the restaurants, but they all involve chili, spaghetti, cheese, beans, and onions. Oyster crackers are commonly given on the side as a garnish, but for some reason, they do not count as an additional way, forming the ultimate Six Way Chili.

I did some polling at the American Sign Museum and they all agreed that Camp Washington Chili was the place to go for the best Cincinnati chili, and in my later research, discovered that it had won a James Beard Foundation American Classics award in 2000, so I feel confident that the Cincinnati chili I ordered and ate was its best possible iteration. The verdict? It’s tasty but I think you have to grow up on it to get it in your blood enough to crave it.

O Pie O was a late addition to the rounds. When we arrived in Ohio, my mother in law had stacks and stacks of every magazine and brochure that had anything to do with Ohio tourism (she knows me pretty well on that score). I flipped through all of them, and a glossy page calling the Honey Vinegar Pie at O Pie O Ohio’s best dessert stopped me dead in my tracks. Ohio’s best dessert? Within striking distance? Obviously we were going to go. Obviously.

The verdict on this one was…not so good. I don’t know if I caught them on an off day in the kitchen or what, but the crusts on all of the pies were tough and leathery, not flaky in the least and not nearly tender enough to cut with a fork. Without a good pastry, you really cannot have a good pie aaaaaand it’s especially hard if the insides aren’t all that great, either. I can appreciate the tangy silkiness of the honey vinegar, but it felt like it needed something. The blackberries in the blackberry buttermilk pie were unpleasantly sour. On the eternal battle that is cake v pie, I’ve switched to team pie, but I’m finding it difficult to go to bat for this particular pie. Now this pie that I made for my Game of Thrones birthday that disappeared before I got a slice and so many people came out of my kitchen moaning about its deliciousness that I had to make it again like a week later, THAT is a pie that I’m willing to ride or die on team pie for. Go eat that pie and know that because of something some magazine said once, that you’re eating a dessert that’s better than any in Ohio.

Baked Alyeska: Seven Glaciers Restaurant

November 20, 2017 Comments Off read Alaska, Attractions, Masticating With Mellzah, Pacific, The Great Outdoors, Travel, USA, West

Occasionally while on a trip, I will forget where I am. It happens in museums most frequently, it’s as though in the process of taking in new information and linking it to things I already knew, some other recent stuff has to be shoved out temporarily. Goodbye, plane ride! Goodbye name of the street my airbnb is on! Goodbye, gas station sandwich! The important stuff comes back, such as if I’d already thought of a good joke to tell about the sandwich (because what is writing and specifically blogging but constantly immediately acknowledging to yourself how clever you are and making a note to tell everyone about it later?). At least, I think the important stuff comes back later. How would I know if it didn’t? I’m sure this spacial forgetfulness also has to do with subject matter as well–if you’re in a museum display of dinosaurs, it doesn’t really matter whether that display is in Colorado or Wisconsin or Utah. You could, in essence, be anywhere looking at dinosaurs.

Alaska doesn’t ever let visitors forget that they are in Alaska. You wake up in the morning and open your curtains and a mountain range that screams Alaska slaps you in the face. Maybe when you’re walking to continental breakfast in the morning, there will be a musician in the lobby playing the 2013 smash hit “Let it go” from the movie Frozen, and even though you’ve never asked anybody or done even a second of preliminary research, you know in your heart it’s because all of Alaska, the frozen state, loves Frozen more than anywhere else. Also because without a gold rush, trends can take a little longer getting up there. Either way, ALASKA. From there, you could have lunch at a pub called Moose Tooth. Alaska. Maybe at some point in the car, a moose will just amble across the street directly in front of your hood and into the woods and you’ll hiss “get the camera get the camera GET THE CAMER–goddamnit”. Alaska. A shop isn’t a shop in Alaska if it doesn’t have a stuffed bear looming somewhere. Neither is a hotel lobby. I haven’t checked and thus have no basis on which to claim this but I feel almost certain that in any Alaska dinosaur museum, there will also be a bear. Potentially fighting the dinosaur. No matter what, you will at all times know that you’re currently in Alaska.

I definitely didn’t forget that I was in Alaska at any point during my drive to or time at the Alyeska resort, what with the aforementioned moose road incident, the mini museum in the lobby of the Alyeska, and its giant grizzly statue staring menacingly at me through the window. The one time, the sole time I forgot was when I was browsing in the Alyeska shop, and one of the shopkeepers half shrieked “Ewww! A mosquito!”. I kept my mirth to myself, but on the inside, I thought it a severe overreaction to a minor pest. After all, I grew up in Wisconsin, right? Where we grow ’em so big the locals joke about them being the state bird? Pfft, I could defend against them in a dead sleep. They’re annoying, but not a big deal.

We made our purchases from this young woman ten minutes later (a button up shirt for Jason and some Alaskan unguents for my face), and she brought the mosquito incident up, not because she was embarrassed and wanted to explain the earlier shriek, I think, but because a mosquito biting her head was extraordinarily noteworthy. “All this over a mosquito? Do they not have Game of Thrones?” I wondered. Later, while sipping some cold beverages and waiting for the tram, we started poking one another and whispering “EW! A mosquito!” giggling maniacally. Then one drifted by. Or, rather, we drifted, shocked, in the wake of its passage, the slow, meaty flap of its wing slapping at the air, demanding to be borne upward, and physics too frightened not to comply. An Alaskan mosquito can be properly described as “husky”, as in, an average one could carry away and fully drain a husky child, leaving only a husky husk. Alaska.

Properly chastised for our ignorant mockeries, we rode the tram to the top of the mountain to have dinner at Seven Glaciers. What can I say? I like eating on mountains when the option is available. Alaska had its stamp all over this restaurant as well–Alaskan crabs, halibut that was caught that morning on the restaurant’s proverbial doorstep, incorporating local flavors like birch syrup. We ordered half the menu and ate until we were fit to burst. During the course of the courses, our server mentioned that today had been a particularly good day, in that she’d seen a bear crossing the road that morning. I don’t think it had occurred to me until that point that it’s possible that every single Alaskan has a bear story. I deeply regret my missed opportunities for bear-related lines of questioning up until that point, but I hope to never miss another, and, in fact, started almost immediately making up for lost time.

My server’s other bear story was an older tale involving the restaurant itself, and the time an intrepid bear broke in, ate pounds of butter, and was caught in a butter coma. By viewing security footage, they were able to determine that in order to get inside, the bear had to stand up on her back legs and shimmy sideways down a hallway, culminating with an “I’m a little teapot” side crunch to leverage the door handle. Authorities were able to get the bear out and away, but evidently a bear who has discovered the wonders of butter is difficult to dissuade. If a bear took a liking to my house enough to break inside, I would just go ahead and deed the house to the bear, there’s no feeling safe in there in your underwear ever again.

We ended up bringing back a goodly portion of our entrees back with us down the mountain, eyes peeled for hungry bears and mosquitoes alike. The doorman didn’t have a bear story.

This Didn’t Deserve Its Own Post: New Mexico Edition

May 31, 2017 Comments Off read Attractions, Mountain, New Mexico, Travel, USA, West

When I take a trip somewhere, if I don’t do a day-by-day recounting, there’s usually a bunch of tidbits left over that I either couldn’t write more than a few sentences about or don’t have any photos for or would drag out the series far beyond what any human could be expected to tolerate. All combined, however, they make for something a little more substantial, so here’s yet another one, this time about New Mexico.

For the bulk of my time in Albuquerque, I stayed at the Hotel Parq Central. I thoroughly enjoyed my drink on their rooftop bar until the bro-iest group of bro-y bro-inghams and their equally bro-ly ladybros sat behind me and began regaling each other, nay, the world with their tales of bro-dom. Would not recommend getting a room directly underneath said rooftop bar, would recommend their complimentary breakfast pastries.

While in Albuquerque, we paid a visit to the historic Microsoft headquarters. The current Microsoft headquarters has far fewer bars on the windows, but just as many “no parking” signs.

I would swear to you that the bulk of all billboards in Albuquerque were for personal injury lawyers with smug angry faces, so it really makes sense that Saul Goodman would set up shop there. I even saw a billboard for a personal injury attorney that had a big foam fist coming out of it, like if you weren’t already in pain, this lawyer was going to rough you up so you’d have a reason to use his services. Or rough up the people who hurt you. Or he just liked the look of a big foam hand, I’m not a billboard scientist. My favorite one, however, was “Hurt? Call BERT.” Over the course of the trip, I developed a backstory for Bert and his lifelong search to find a partner in life and love named Ginger, all to drive home his ultimate slogan: “Hurt or Injured? Call BERT and GINGER!” Best of luck in that one, Bert, I’ll check on your progress the next time I roll through town.

This “spaceship house” was designed by architect Bart Prince and constructed in 1984, and it is my understanding that it is his personal residence. Legend also tells that William Shatner once knocked on the door to request a tour of the home, spaceship captain to spaceship captain. Someone was outside bringing in groceries while I snapped a few photos (potentially Mr. Prince himself?) but I was not offered the Shatner Treatment™, which makes perfect sense because I wouldn’t offer to give some rando loitering outside my house the grand tour, either.

I love books, I love puns, I love this place. At least from the outside, I wasn’t able to squeeze in any libations at the library.

The murals of Albuquerque:

During my brief stop in Alamogordo, I stopped at the New Mexico Museum of Space History to pay my respects at the grave of Ham, the world’s first astrochimp. Hail to the chimp! I also have to tip my hat to Niantic, who have wisely populated the area around the New Mexico Museum of Space History with mankey pokemon. I caught one and named him Ham and now he lives in my pocket.

We also made another quick stop of note in Alamogordo: the alleged burial site of the game that almost killed home video gaming, E.T. If you’re not familiar with the tale, allow me to fill you in as this is one of the few things I studied during my tumultuous college years.

In the 70s, Atari ruled all things in the realm of home video gaming, bringing the arcade experience to home televisions sans the need for infinity quarters. However, their success was largely because they were the first company to do so, and their business sense, uh, left some things to be desired, like manufacturing millions more game cartridges of a single title than they’d sold consoles. E.T. has the honor of being the first game made that was based on a film, and they paid out the nose for the license, slapped a game together, and manufactured millions of cartridges. What resulted is considered one of the worst games of all time, pointless and rage inducing. Though it sold fairly well during the holiday season, it didn’t come anywhere near the numbers Atari was anticipating and millions of cartridges went unsold. This shook investors’ faith in Atari, effectively killed the 2600 as a console, and played a not-insignificant role in the video game crash of 1983. Atari drove tractor trailers of unsold E.T. cartridges to Alamogordo, where they were buried in a landfill and allegedly paved over to prevent people from digging them up and selling them (because, you know, why buy the worst game of all time from the manufacturer when you could buy a dirtier, slightly smooshed version from a stranger in a parking lot whose ad you saw in the newspaper?).

If E.T. had killed home video gaming, it’s very likely Jason and I would have never met, so goodbye and good riddance you creepy little peanut butter candy huffing bastard.

We passed by Fox Cave too early in the day for them to be open, sadly, but it looks like it’d be right up my alley, so I’ll almost assuredly be back. Hopefully before I become a ramblin’ old person, but I’ll take it when I can get it.

Sign reads: “Many illegal activities in progress, enter at your own risk”

Somewhere between Hatch and Albuquerque, I spotted this hill and decided it looked like Jabba the Hutt. So if it isn’t named Jabba the Hill officially, it definitely is named that now unoffically.

Jason drove by a water tank in Los Lunas far too quickly for me to get a photo, but the morbidly obese tiger depicted on the side has ever lingered in my mind. Thankfully, google maps has me covered. I had hoped there were two tiny dangling paws on the backside as well, but with a little more google maps research, I determined this tiger has two heads.

And that’s it for this New Mexico trip! The stuff that isn’t here really didn’t deserve its own post.

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