CINCINNATI -- Oh no he didn't.
To the annoyance of Cincinnatians near and far, an article recently published slams Cincinnati Chili in every way possible. The writer goes so far as to say getting hit by a car is better than the “horrifying diarrhea sludge” we have made a main food group in the Queen City.
As a Cincinnati girl born and raised, I have a few choice words for Deadspin article author , Albert Burneko: You've forever made an enemy of our amazing city.
Burneko, originally from a state known for peanuts and ham (so what does he really know, anyway?), has angered Cincinnati natives everywhere by questioning and calling out our deep-rooted chili culture.
Generations of Cincinnatians have grown up on the Greek-inspired dish and I will go out on a limb to say we are none too pleased with the hateful and rude description of our beloved food and those who enjoy it.
Not only does Burneko rate Cincinnati Chili dead last, right behind getting hit by a car (slightly obnoxious, man), he describes it as “the worst regional foodstuff in America or anywhere else,” and a “bad-tasting Z-grade atrocity.”
Burneko doesn't stop at ripping Cincinnati chili, but the Ohioans that consider it a staple.
“The only thing ‘chili’ about it is the shiver that goes down your spine when you watch Ohio sports fans shoveling it into their maws on television and are forced to reckon with the cold reality that, for as desperately as you might cling to faltering notions of community and universality, ultimately your fellow human beings are as foreign and unknowable to you as the surface of Pluto, and you are alone and always have been and will die alone, a world unto yourself unmarked and unmapped and totally, hopelessly isolated.”
Correct me if I’m wrong, but did he just write Cincinnatians will die alone due to our love of chili? Who is this detestable hack?
Not to mention he rates Chicago-style deep-dish pizza as No. 1. How generic, dude. Please be a little more creative next time. At least our town is known for something other than pizza, which almost every town in America claims it cooks up with some "unique" style.
“Cincinnati chili is the worst, saddest, most depressing ******* thing in the world,” Burkeno writes. “If it came out of the end of your digestive system, you would turn the color of chalk and call an ambulance, but at least it'd make some sense. The people of Ohio see nothing wrong with inserting it into their mouths, which perhaps tells you everything you need to know about the Buckeye State. Don't eat it. Don't let your loved ones eat it. Turn away from the darkness, and toward the deep-dish pizza.”
Don't worry, Burneko doesn't stop there, he continues his repulsive rant aimed at bordering states Kentucky and Indiana.
He ranks Kentucky "Burgoo" at No. 12 and writes, "Kentucky's signature food, a whatever-you-got stew that never tastes the same twice, gets a million imaginary bonus points for its wonderful communal nature: People just bring whatever ingredients they can, and everybody puts what they've got into the stew, and out comes burgoo, and that is just ******* beautiful, even though in reality probably 78 percent of its ingredients were scraped off I-64 with a snow shovel."
Classy, isn't he?
Indiana doesn't get out of Burneko's trash talking either, with its fried pork tenderloin sandwich coming in at No. 35. He writes, "This is a crispy chicken sandwich, only with a big, chewy sheaf of salty pig in place of the juicy, marinated chicken breast. It is neither particularly interesting nor particularly original. It is the signature food of Indiana, which, of course it is."
Is it possible to dislike someone more?
At the end of the day, most writers try to follow certain guidelines with their articles that can call for playful and flippant banter, but Burneko crosses the line so far he just ends up looking like a Grade-A jerk.
The collective Cincinnati chili lovers have something to say to you, Burneko: Thank you for spending the most time writing about our state and famous dish, because everyone knows such hate only signifies secret love.
Eat up, man, we know you actually like it. Oh, and make it a five-way.
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