Wait, it's all Ohio?

It always was...

Starting - well, now - The Weekly Menu is moving to Tuesdays. For reasons. Probably. Mostly I’m finding it harder to get the newsletter out on Monday mornings. So … Tuesdays! Follow along and share with your friends.

-Drew

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Is it irresponsible and kind of stupid to base a menu on an internet meme? Probably.

Does the result hold together as a “meal”? Well, that depends entirely on your definition of a meal. For me, “meal” means an exquisitely presented, carefully coordinated dance of dishes that give you different experiences and tastes, that triggers different emotions and memories, and that leaves you happy and satisfied. For example, how a plate of wings and some dumpster tots from the neighborhood place that fries everything reminds me of previous poor choices and makes me want to order another absurdly large beer.

Meals are what you make of them, and this week’s menu isn’t a coherent meal. It’s a menu, one that reflects some of the weird and wonderful food traditions of the state and communities I grew up in. Because in the end, it was always all Ohio.

Ohio has an incredibly diverse food culture – it’s at once Midwestern, Appalachian, industrial, agricultural, urban, and rural. It’s a land that was once home to the great indigenous confederacies, later settled by waves of migrants and immigrants – first from Europe, then the Black diaspora following the civil war, migrants from Appalachia in the early part of the last century, and later from all over Africa, the Middle East, Central and South America, and Asia. Each of those cultures contributed their unique traditions to the state’s menus and cravings.

What we ended up with is a wonderful mélange of traditional dishes modified and altered to fit the state’s bountiful – but sometimes plain – pantry, and to please the palates of the diverse neighbors, customers, and friends. Some of the state’s great foods - such as Cleveland’s Polish Boy – are cross-cultural creations that have been embraced by all. Some are highly regional, such as Barberton Chicken or the Sauerkraut Balls and Bologna Sandwich below. Others, like Cincinnati Chili, burst the borders of their origins and even the Buckeye State and are found all over a broad region.

So, here’s some Ohio for ya’. Who knows, maybe you’ll like it.

Sauerkraut Balls

Sauerkraut Balls. Yes. They sound like a hilarious joke. Like a line from a Simpsons episode where one of Marge’s sisters offers up a strange concoction, or a dish that Aunt Mabel made for Thanksgiving one year that everyone’s joked about ever since. But Sauerkraut Balls are amazing. Pork sausage, kraut, cheese, all breaded and fried into a heart stopping delicious nugget of Midwestern perfection.

Supposedly, Sauerkraut Balls were invented in Akron during the great depression. I don’t know if that’s true – the few sources I could find offered no backing evidence. I do know that I’ve never seen them outside of Ohio and that really should change.

The recipe is simple but three step breading can take a little practice. The accompanying mustard sauce is my favorite, but around Ohio you’re as likely to find these served with ranch or thousand island dressing. Choose your favorite, and grab a tall boy.

2 Wisconsin or Ohio style Bratwurst*
1 cup well drained Sauerkraut
8 oz shredded swiss cheese
1 8oz package cream cheese
½ cup flour
1 cup breadcrumbs
2 large eggs

Remove the bratwurst sausage from the casing. Crumble and cook, breaking into small pieces with a wooden spoon. Drain fat and allow to cool.

*Choose uncooked Ohio or Wisconsin style coarse ground pork bratwurst. Real german styles, finely ground cooked sausages, etc won’t work well for this recipe.

Using a stand mixer fixed with a paddle attachment, combine kraut, swiss cheese, cream cheese, and cooled bratwurst bits.

Refrigerate 15 minutes.

Beat the eggs well.

Set up a three step breading station with separate bowls for four, eggs, and breadcrumbs.

Form filling mixture into 1 ½ inch balls.

Roll in flour, dip in beaten egg, and finish with the breadcrumbs.

Rest in refrigerator for 15 minutes for breading to hydrate.

Fry at 350 until brown and heated through. If you prefer a dark crumb, consider freezing the balls for 1 hour before frying.

Mustard Sauce

½ cup mayonnaise
2 tbsp stone ground or whole grain mustard
1 tsp smooth mustard
1 tsp confectioners sugar

Combine all ingredients with a whisk and refrigerate 30 minutes before using.

Cincinnati Chili

Cincinnati style chili gets a bad rep, mostly from people who’ve never actually tried it. The chili purists complain about the pasta, the inclusion of cinnamon, the pasta again, and the chocolate. At this point, if you’re not from Ohio you’re probably wondering what the hell I’m talking about. Chili over spaghetti? Chocolate and cinnamon? Yeah. There’s chocolate and cinnamon in it. And yeah, it’s traditionally served over spaghetti noodles – often and best cooked to within an inch of their life.

Oh, and it’s amazingly delicious. Even more so ladled out of a crock pot on a cold, rainy November day, football on TV in the background, and a pile of oyster crackers alongside to soak up the sauce left at the bottom of your bowl.

It’s best not to think of Cincinnati chili as “chili.” It’s a meat sauce – and an unusual one at that. The first purveyors of the dish were Macedonian immigrants – and the dish is still sometimes called Greek Chili in and around Cincinnati. The seasoning and flavors are more those of their homeland than of Mexico or the American Southwest. I think of it more as a simplified and bastardized pasta moussaka – with the pillows of shredded cheese standing in for the classic Bechamel.

In Cincinnati everyone who like chili is a chili partisan. There are numerous chili parlours and every Cincinnatian (and northern Kentuckian, and people who drove down from Columbus or Dayton, and probably a fair portion of Indiana too) has a strongly held opinion about which is best. This recipe can’t compete with that - but it’s a good home equivalent.

This recipe uses a technique that may seem like an anathema to most home cooks. Instead of browning the beef and aromatics, as we’re taught to do in nearly every recipe, the ground meat here is mixed into a slurry (this helps give it the fine texture) and everything else is essentially sloshed in to simmer away and blend. It’s fast, and the method a lot of commercial kitchens use. Also, somehow it’s the right thing for this dish.

Serves 4
2 hours 30 mins, 30 mins active

1 lb lean ground beef
1 can (14 oz) peeled diced tomatoes
2 cups cold water
1 large onion
2 cloves garlic
1 tbsp chili powder*
1 tbsp cider vinegar
¼ tsp thyme
¼ tsp dried rosemary leaves
¼ tsp ground allspice
½ tsp cinnamon
1 tsp cocoa powder or 2 tsp finely chopped dark chocolate
1 tsp kosher salt
1 lb uncooked spaghetti noodles
1 cup cooked red kidney beans
2 cups finely shredded cheddar cheese (traditionally bright orange, but i’m partial to Cabot sharp white)

Add two cups of water to a pan, off the heat.

Add the ground beef to the water and stir well to break up into very small pieces.

Add 1 tsp salt to the beef mixture, and place over a low flame/heat mark.

Peel, trim, and coarsely chop ½ the onion – dice and reserve the remaining half for garnish.

Peel the garlic.

Place the onion, tomato, garlic, vinegar, chocolate or cocoa, and spices in the container of a blender, and blend on high until smooth.

Add the tomato mixture to the beef mixture, stirring to combine.

Cook at a low simmer for 2 hours.

If needed, thicken slightly with a slurry of 1 tsp flour to 1 tbsp water.

Cook the spaghetti according to package directions but boil for an additional 2 minutes. The pasta should be very soft, not “al dente.”

To serve:

3-way: Top spaghetti with the meat sauce, and a pile of shredded cheese.

5-way: Top spaghetti with meat sauce, beans, diced onions, and a pile of shredded cheese.

The Proper Fried Bologna Sandwich

I’ve lived all over the state of Ohio, in Cincinnati, Columbus, Cleveland, and in rural small-town Ohio, but I spent most of my youth and a fair portion of my adult professional life in the area around the State Capitol, Columbus – the region inevitably and uncreatively labeled Central Ohio. Central Ohio’s unique contribution to the state’s cuisine is a Bologna sandwich. A fried Bologna Sandwich. There are others like it, but this is ours. A single, very thick slice is slowly pan fried until crispy on the outside and warm through – topped with mustard, onion, and pickles. It’s a workingman’s supper, quick, sustaining, and delicious with a very cold American lager.

This isn’t a recipe, as such. These are assembly instructions. I could probably give you a recipe for homemade bologna, for a carefully crafted artisan brioche roll, and a spicy homemade mustard. That would be against the spirit of the thing, and the thing is almost perfect as it is.

Serves 4
20 minutes

4 one-inch thick slices of bologna (see note)
4 soft white hamburger buns
4 thin slices of onion
Yellow mustard
Dill Pickle chips
4 slices White American or Baby Swiss cheese (opt)

Pan fry the slices of bologna, turning once, over low heat until the surface is browned, and crunchy and they’re hot all the way though.

Add cheese, if using, and allow to melt.

Place on a hamburger bun.

Top with mustard, pickles, and sliced onion.

Serve immediately with very cold, deliciously crappy beer.

Paprikash Fries

This recipe is based on the Chicken Paprikash recipe I developed for my other project, The Chicken Thigh Guy. There are a thousand different recipes for paprikash. I’m sure some are very authentic. This one isn’t. This one is just Ohio. This style is more like a chicken-studded-gravy thickened with sour cream. To me, it’s a thing I associate strongly with Cleveland, with bar food and all-night diners, potlucks and crock pots. It’s simple, rich, and satisfying – and man oh man oh man, is it good ladled over fries with some cheese – a sort of north coast poutine with a faint Hungarian accent.

Serves 4
2 hours, 45 minutes active

2 bone-in, skin-on chicken thighs
2 cups light chicken stock
1 large onion, sliced thin
½ cup sour cream
3 tbsp sweet paprika
Salt and pepper to taste

White Cheese Curds
3 large russet potatoes

Prep the potatoes.

Peel the potatoes and cut into fries. Soak in cold water for at least one hour and up to overnight, changing water once.

Drain the potatoes and spread on a kitchen towel. Gently roll the potatoes in the towel to help remove surface water.

Set up your fryer for 325° F

Fry the potatoes in batches at 325° F until fully cooked, but not yet browned or crisped. Remove from the oil and allow them to drain.

Allow potatoes to cool completely (you can even freeze them at this point by spreading them out on a sheet pan, freezing them uncovered, then transferring them to a freezer bag.)

Prepare the Paprikash!

Sorry. It’s just fun to say “PREPARE THE PAPRIKASH!” There is a lot of alliteration going on here today.

Preheat a lidded sauté pan over a medium flame.

Season the thighs on both sides, brown the chicken slowly, rendering fat from the skin. Once the skin is well browned, remove chicken and set aside.

In the same pan, sauté the onions in the rendered chicken fat.

Once the onions are translucent, add the paprika, salt, and pepper and sauté until it becomes fragrant and slightly sticky.

Add the chicken stock to the pan.

Return the chicken to the pan and simmer covered until it is nearly falling off the bone.

Remove the chicken from the sauce. Remove and discard the skin and cut into small pieces.

Stir sour cream into the pan over very low heat.

Return the chicken pieces to the pan to coat well with the sauce.

To finish the fries, heat your oil to 375° F and fry until crisp. Drain well.

Scatter some cheese curds on a pile of hot fries.

Ladle paprikash over fries and cheese curds.

Eat happily.

Buckeyes

Real Buckeyes are … well, they’re the fruit of a tree indigenous to Ohio. Some of you probably thought I was going to make a football joke or something because it’s also the name of the state university’s sports teams, and actually come to think of it … sort of the state university’s everything. It’s not an edible nut. It’s a kind of cool looking nut that is a a deep shiny brown with a tan circle.

If you spend a non-pandemic fall in Columbus, sooner or later someone with a slightly crazed expression will ask you if you want to “rub their nuts.” There is no need to call the police – probably. If they’re decked out in Ohio State fan kit, they just want you to rub their necklace of Buckeyes for good luck.

Buckeye candies – and they really are candy – are also indigenous to Ohio. Probably. They’re certainly everywhere. You can buy them at the airport, at gift shops, truck stops, groceries, and bake sales. Every holiday season, there will be buckeyes tucked into the tins of cookies that are gifted and regifted and traded and recycled from neighbor to neighbor.

They’re peanut butter and chocolate, and quick and easy to make. And, they don’t taste like the licorice landmines hiding at the bottom of some of those cookie tins.

Serves 1 Ohio expatriate or 4-8 normal persons
2 hours, 20 mins active

1 ¼ cup powdered sugar
½ cup smooth peanut butter
3 tbsp unsalted butter
¼ tsp vanilla extract
Pinch of salt

8oz dark chocolate chips

1 tsp shortening (or lard if you’re a hipster or from 1901)

Melt the butter.

Combine melted butter, peanut butter, and powdered sugar using a spatula, or in a stand mixer.

Form into small balls – sized for two bites.

Place on a parchment lined tray and refrigerate or freeze for 30 minutes to an hour, or until firm.

Place the shortening and chocolate in a microwave safe bowl. Heat on high 30 seconds at a time, stirring in between cycles, until chocolate is completely melted and shortening is incorporated.

Using a toothpick to hold the fondant ball, dip into the chocolate – leaving an exposed tan “eye”

Refrigerate to set the chocolate – 30 minutes to 1 hour.