Tell people you’re going to Ohio. Go on, try it. Chances are
the first question they ask will be “why?” For some reason I felt compelled to
defend Ohio—“why not?” I would reply with a slight tone of indignation. But in
all honesty, I would never opt in for Ohio if my friends didn’t live in
Cincinnati.
Settled along the Ohio River and on the edge of the
Ohio-Kentucky border, Cincinnati is home to Skyline Chili, the Reds, and the
Schelles (of the Mike and Erin variety). That was about the extent of my
knowledge of this fair Midwestern city, where we lay our scene. Landing in
Dayton, which offered a direct flight opportunity from Denver, we were about an
hour from our final destination of the ‘nati. Upon arrival, we headed straight
to Skyline Chili.
When I first met the Schelles in Albuquerque in 2010,
Skyline was the only chili they cared about. But after living in New Mexico,
they became quick converts to the wonderful world of green chile (helping to
keep our friendship intact). But since I was on their turf, it was only fair I
try the famed Skyline. Instructed by multiple sources to get it three-way, I
ordered as I was told and was soon presented with a tangled heap of spaghetti covered
in original chili below a mountain of cheddar cheese. Finish the meal off with
a York peppermint patty, and simply savor the odd yet crave-worthy Cincinnati
classic.
Downtown Cincinnati plays it cool. There’s no air of
pretention along the interesting boulevards, which are lined with historic
buildings on both sides. We skipped the better known hipster hotspots, but the
general vibe of Cincy keeps it on the hipster side of things. That is to say,
effortlessly cool. Gentrified neighborhoods with restaurants in warehouses and
funky markets a stone’s throw away from the central business district make it a
dichotomy of sorts; historic yet contemporary, Midwestern yet Southern, hip yet
Ohio.
Perched at tall tables along a swanky bar, we grabbed lunch
at Taste of Belgium,
which was bustling Friday at midday. I committed to a delicious decision in the
Southwestern waffle (turkey, chipotle aioli, pepper jack smushed between two
Belgian waffles), while Mike went with the traditional Chicken and Waffles with
a European twist. Dense and delightful, the waffles were far from the frozen
variety–no need to leggo an Eggo. If you find yourself in downtown Cincinnati,
make this joint a priority.
If you need a better view of Cincinnati (and really, who
doesn’t?), it’s only reasonable you go to Kentucky. Cross the Daniel Carter
Beard Bridge, better known as the Big Mac Bridge due to its familiar looking
yellow arches, and you’ll find yourself in Newport. Of course, in the words of Mike Schelle, “You always know
when you're in Kentucky.” We’ll leave that one up to the imagination so not to
insult any readers out there.
The green scene in Ohio is not to be
underestimated. I laugh thinking how New Mexicans tried to persuade Mike and
Erin that Albuquerque “really does get green” in the spring when I see the land
they hail from. As an original upstate New Yorker, I can commiserate with the
varying perceptions of greenery. Whether you’re driving down the highway or
hiking through the woods along a creek, you’ve got green at every angle on that
side of the Mississippi River.
To reward ourselves after the aforementioned
hike through the woods, we stopped in at Graeters Ice Cream,
which markets itself as irresistible, and I have to agree. Black Raspberry Chip
was the flavor of choice and it proved as irresistible as the sign suggests.
Although whatever you do, don’t leave a single solitary spoonful of ice cream
in that cup if you want to remain friends with the Schelles. They do not look
kindly upon leftovers.
The National
Museum of the United States Air Force in Dayton is a
behemoth of a building that houses scores of military aircraft throughout the
years. Wander through for free and be amazed by the evolution of technology—from
the early editions before World War I through to the B-29 that dropped the Fat Man
atomic bomb on Nagasaki, it’s not every day one is privy to this kind of
showcase.
The rest of the weekend swirled in a cocktail-fueled friend
frenzy—with a firepit!—that would be boring for those not in the loop of pals.
Reminiscing, catching up on the latest news, and watching Arrested Development all
played their parts in a friendtastic weekend. Sure, we may have eaten like we
were 12 and it was our first weekend away from our parents (hamburgers, pulled
pork, homemade ice cream sandwiches, oh my!), but the copious amounts of
cocktails ensured we were in fact acting our age. Mike even makes his own
simple syrup. That’s pretty adulty.
