The Food You Should Actually Eat in Ohio

The food you should actually eat in Ohio depends on where you're standing, because Ohio is really three or four food regions wearing one state's name. In Cincinnati it's chili over spaghetti and goetta at breakfast, in Cleveland it's a Polish Boy and pierogi, in Columbus it's a shredded chicken sandwich, and near Akron it's Barberton fried chicken.

None of this shows up much on national best-of lists, which is fine. Ohio food is not trying to impress anyone. It was mostly invented by immigrants feeding factory workers on a budget, and it still eats that way. Here's the tour.

Cincinnati chili, and how to order it

Start with the thing outsiders make fun of and Ohioans defend to the death. Cincinnati chili is not Texas chili. It's a thin, spiced meat sauce with roots in Greek and Macedonian cooking, and it goes over spaghetti, not in a bowl by itself. The spicing runs sweet and warm — think cinnamon-adjacent — which is exactly what upsets people who came in expecting cumin and heat.

The ordering system is the fun part:

• Three-way: spaghetti, chili, a mound of shredded cheddar. This is the default.
• Four-way: add onions or beans.
• Five-way: add both.
• Cheese coney: a small hot dog with chili, mustard, onion, and the same absurd pile of cheese.

Skyline and Gold Star are the chains, and locals split into camps over them the way other cities argue about pizza. Camp Washington Chili is the independent spot people send you to when they want you to take it seriously. Eat it with oyster crackers. Do not stir it. Cut down through the layers with your fork like you're supposed to.

Goetta is Cincinnati's other secret

Goetta (say it "GET-uh") is a German-heritage breakfast meat: ground pork and beef stretched with steel-cut oats, spiced, formed into a loaf, sliced, and fried until the edges crisp. It's cousin to scrapple but it has its own following, and in Cincinnati that following is intense. Glier's is the name you'll see on grocery packages, and diners around the city serve it next to eggs like it's the most normal thing in the world, because there it is.

The move is simple: order it at breakfast anywhere in greater Cincinnati that lists it. Crispy outside, soft inside, oats doing quiet work in the middle. There are goetta festivals in the summer if you want to see how far a city can take one breakfast meat. The answer is far.

Cleveland: the Polish Boy and the West Side Market

Cleveland's signature sandwich is the Polish Boy, and it is not a subtle piece of engineering. Take a grilled or fried kielbasa, put it in a bun, then bury it under french fries, coleslaw, and barbecue sauce. Eating one cleanly is not possible and nobody expects you to try. You'll find them at barbecue joints and stands around the city's east and near-west sides, and the good ones don't skimp on the slaw.

While you're in Cleveland, go to the West Side Market in Ohio City. It's a working public market, not a food-hall imitation of one — meat counters, produce stalls, bakeries, and vendors reflecting the city's Eastern European roots. Pick up pierogi. Cleveland's Polish and Ukrainian communities have kept the pierogi standard high, and church-basement pierogi sales around Lent are a real event, not folklore. Potato and cheese, fried in butter with onions, is the correct starting point.

Columbus: shredded chicken sandwiches and a cream puff the size of your fist

Central Ohio has a sandwich almost nobody outside the region has heard of: the shredded chicken sandwich. It's chicken shredded fine into a thick, savory binder — somewhere between chicken salad and gravy — served hot on a soft bun. You'll find it at drive-ins, county fairs, and church fundraisers across the middle of the state. It looks like nothing. It tastes like every potluck you were ever glad you went to.

In German Village, Schmidt's Sausage Haus serves the Bahama Mama, a big spicy sausage, and follows it with a jumbo cream puff that has ended a lot of dinners early. Columbus is also where Jeni's Splendid Ice Creams started, so if you want the fancy end of Ohio eating, that's it — but the shredded chicken sandwich is the one to seek out, because you genuinely cannot get it most other places.

Columbus is also where the O-H-I-O chant lives, shouted across the Horseshoe on fall Saturdays. If you know, you know — and if you know, the O-H Tee will make sense to you and confuse everyone else, which is roughly the point.

Barberton chicken is worth the drive

Barberton is a small city near Akron, and it has its own style of fried chicken thanks to Serbian immigrants who settled there. The chicken is fresh, never frozen, breaded and fried in lard, and served with a side the locals call "hot sauce" — which is not a bottle of hot sauce but a dish of rice, tomatoes, and hot peppers cooked down together. Vinegar coleslaw and fries round out the plate.

A handful of chicken houses in and around Barberton have been doing this the same way for generations, and the town takes it seriously enough that the style has its own name. If you're anywhere near Akron with an appetite, this is the detour to make.

Buckeyes, and the rest of the sweet stuff

The buckeye is Ohio's candy: a ball of peanut butter fudge dipped in chocolate, leaving a circle of peanut butter exposed so it looks like the nut of the state tree. Every Ohio grandmother has a recipe, every holiday tray has a batch, and every candy shop in the state sells them. The actual buckeye nut is mildly toxic. The candy version has caused a different kind of harm entirely, mostly to willpower.

Other sweets and sides worth knowing:

• Sauerkraut balls: fried spheres of kraut and sausage, an Akron-area bar snack that sounds wrong and eats right.
• Amish country food: Holmes County has one of the largest Amish populations anywhere, and the trail bologna, Swiss cheese, and pie out there are the real reason to drive Route 39.
• Tony Packo's: Toledo's Hungarian hot dog institution, famous for its chili dogs and its walls of celebrity-signed buns.
• Grippo's: Cincinnati's barbecue potato chips, sweet-hot and habit-forming.

If any of this reads like a love letter, it mostly is. We make shirts about places like this — the whole Ohio collection exists because the state has more personality per square mile than it gets credit for, and the Ohio State Pride Tee covers the part of that personality that comes out in the fall.

Common questions

What food is Ohio most famous for?

Cincinnati chili is the most famous, served over spaghetti as a three-way or on hot dogs as cheese coneys. Buckeye candies — peanut butter balls dipped in chocolate — are a close second and show up statewide.

What is a Polish Boy?

It's Cleveland's signature sandwich: a kielbasa in a bun topped with french fries, coleslaw, and barbecue sauce. It's messy by design, and you'll find it at barbecue spots and stands around the city.

Is Cincinnati chili actually good?

If you judge it as Texas chili, you'll be disappointed, because it's a different dish with Greek-Macedonian roots and warm, sweet spicing. Order a three-way with oyster crackers, don't stir it, and decide for yourself.