A German on the loose in Cincinnati: Eating my first Cheese Coney

There were three things people had told me about Cincinnati:

1. They have the best milk shakes in the country
2. It is the city of the flying pigs
3. People in Cincinnati are crazy about a certain type of food called “chili cheese dogs”
   
   
   
   
   

While number one made perfect sense (Ohio is worldwide famous for its milk cows), number two sounded a little bit disturbing (are there pigs dangling from the buildings in Cincinnati? And more importantly, were these pigs alive at one point???). Now, as far as number three on the list goes, everybody was just raving about the “chili cheese dogs”, so I knew a very special delicacy was in store for me. What I didn't know was that this cheesy dog would teach me four important facts about Cincinnati.

The first Cincy fact I was taught when asking about the “chili cheese dog” (with raised eyebrows and rolling eyes), was that people in Cincinnati NEVER EVER call it a “chili cheese dog”. The proper name is “cheese coney”. “Chili cheese dog” is just a name ignorant outatowners gave it, people that have probably never seen a real cheese coney; in other words: people like me.

Cincy fact number two involves rituals around eating a cheese coney. You cannot just go out and eat a cheese coney on the go, as a fast little snack (as I foolishly assumed). Also, it is very bad manners to just eat a cheese coney by yourself. Eating a cheese coney is a social event. You go with your family, with your friends or at least with your dog or – as it was the case with me – you take your uneducated visitors with you to experience the one and only Cincinnati cheese coney.

So here I am, finally, with a hot and fresh cheese coney in front of me. For the first time in my life I get to admire the real deal: a fresh bun with a firm hot dog in it, covered in delicious smelling chili, with a mountain of cheese on top. In my (naive) German mind however, this combination just doesn't make sense. I understand the hot dog by itself and I understand the chili by itself but why (why???) would you ever combine two types of meat? Because, and this is Cincy fact number three— because more meat is more good! Why make do with just one type of meat when you can have two? Makes sense, right?

Now there is only one thing separating me from my very first bite of cheese coney; the hot sauce that goes on top. I grab the bottle and spread a very generous amount on my coney. My friends look at me, trying to warn me – but please! I have lived in South America for the past three years and from jalapeño to rocoto, I have tried just about every hot pepper there is. This sauce will be nothing for me. So I confidently take my first big bite … and I am in flames! My face is turning crimson and I am sure there is steam coming out of my ears. My taste buds are numb. All I can taste is “hot”. So as much as I would like to tell you what I think of the Cheese Coney, unfortunately I have no idea what it tastes like. Which brings me to the fourth and most important Cincy fact: you should always listen to what people in Cincinnati have to tell to you; they know what they are talking about!

She's back!

It has been over a month since my last South American adventure.
What happened in the meantime? Well, I closed a chapter in my life and said goodbye to the southern half of this continent (yes, it was sad and I miss it). And I happened to end up in Cincinnati, Ohio. This will be my "home" base for the next couple of months. If you had asked me 3 years ago, in what city I would see myself living in the future, Cincinnati wouldn't have been the answer (I probably didn't even know where it was exactly). But this is how life (and in my case: love) goes and here I am. To be honest, for the past month I have been mostly sleeping, working and enjoying the fact that I wasn't packing (and carrying) my 15-kilo-heavy backpack every 3 days. The rest of the time, I was trying to deal with my culture shock. I have to admit, it hit me way harder than I expected. Sure, I was enthusiastic about being in the States for about one week: There was hot water coming out of the sink (also, there always WAS water/hot water), I finally could buy my favorite chewing gum again and the service at the restaurants was overwhelmingly friendly. BUT, soon enough reality hit me. A lot of it might have to do with being in Cincinnati. A friend from Barcelona said about the city: "It's a small town. I mean, it's like a lot of small towns that make up a big small town, but it is still a small town." I agree! You can tell that people here are just a 30-minute-drive away from Kentucky. So in my first weeks here I had to get used to the fact that it seems to be completely normal to go shopping on Saturdays and come back with a gun (that you proudly show your neighbors). I couldn't (and still can't) stand that I have to drive everywhere. Also, I had to talk to very ... let's call them ignorant ... people that couldn't tell the difference between Africa and South America. And what's even worse: Whenever somebody asked me what I thought about South America, they expected the sentence to end with "but I am glad to be back in the US". Needless to say, that I got as excited as a little puppy every time I happened to run into a Latino. And I got the impression, they felt the same way. Finally, somebody that "speaks" your language, somebody that doesn't think it's gross to greet a person with a kiss on the cheek and that doesn't think you're crazy because you have left the US (and liked it). BUT, the important part is, I found these people (not only Latinos). They might be a bit more scarce in Cincinnati but they exist. So slowly but surely, the city is growing on me.
I have also started to write a weekly column for an online magazine (http://www.ourtown.com/cincipulse/) where I talk about my ventures and adventures in the city; stories that I would like to share with you here, too. So stay tuned!

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