There’s one resource we always turn to first when we’re looking for a welcoming place to eat with lots of local character. That’s the listing of eateries designated as America’s Classics by the James Beard Foundation. The late chef and cookbook author appreciated homey diners just as much as he relished temples of haute cuisine. The America’s Classics shine a light on these usually family-run establishments that play a big role in their communities.

If we’re lucky, we’ll discover one or more Classics at an upcoming destination. That was the case on our recent visit to Cincinnati, where Camp Washington Chili (3005 Colerain Ave, Cincinnati; 513-541-0061; campwashingtonchili.com) has been a neighborhood fixture since 1940. Maria Papakirk was there to welcome us with a big smile, introduce us to her father Johnny Johnson, and give us a bit of background on Cincinnati’s famous chili parlors.

“When the Empress was opened in 1922 by Greek immigrants it started the chili craze,” she told us. “Other immigrants went to work there and they saw that the Empress was making a lot of money. So they opened their own parlors.” The Empress is still in operation though it has relocated from downtown Cincinnati to Alexandria, Kentucky, about 14 miles south across the Ohio River. We were impressed that Papakirk would acknowledge Empress’s primacy among Cincy chili parlors.

But then, Camp Washington, which opened in 1940, has been around long enough to establish its own style and build a following among chili aficionados. When Johnny Johnson arrived in Cincinnati from his native Greece in 1951, he began working there. In the 1970s, he became owner and tinkered with the recipe to give the mild chili sauce a little more punch. “This has been his only job,” Papakirk said.

The sheer joy of a (G-rated) three-way

A street-widening project forced the family to tear down the original chili parlor and rebuild a short distance away. The new parlor—reminiscent of a 1950s diner—opened in 2000. Johnson looked around at the gleaming retro chili emporium as if seeing it for the first time. “This building is my American dream,” he said.

He realized his American dream the old fashioned way—with lots of hard work. Camp Washington is open around the clock Monday through Saturday and turns out 60 gallons of chili daily. “We grind our own meat every day,” said Papakirk. “And the chili is never frozen.”

You can order a hot dog topped with chili, a chili cheese sandwich, or chili cheese fries. But true Cincinnati style is a big plate of spaghetti smothered in chili and finely grated orange cheese. That would be a “three way.” Add beans or onions for a “four way,” or both for a “five way.” In whatever combination, it packs a lot of local flavor and history. But don’t expect the heat of Texas chili. Cincinnati chili is a milder cousin of the fiery dish.

It’s a challenge to eat a plate of chili gracefully. Forget twirling the spaghetti around your fork Italian style. It’s best to dig in with a knife and fork. Camp Washington does offer plastic bibs and after one minor spill we decided that it was better to be safe than sorry. Why sacrifice a crisp white shirt for a bit of misplaced pride?

Camp Washington Chili allowed the James Beard Foundation to publish its chili recipe a few years back. Here’s the link:

Camp Washington was also the subject of a song by Lonnie Mack (1941-2016). It’s an instrumental, but the blues-rock pioneer pretty much nails the zing.