Lille Allen
From hog fry in Oklahoma to Snickers salad in Iowa, these signature foods offer beloved tastes of middle America
Cinnamon rolls dipped in chili. Coors Light poured over OJ. Taco pizza. If you grew up in the amorphous region known as America’s heartland, these combos might raise your serotonin levels. If you grew up elsewhere, they might raise your eyebrows. The landmark dishes at the country’s core don’t get the same fawning attention as, say, Chicago pizza or Philly cheesesteak, but damn if they aren’t delicious all the same. While a few local icons have managed to breach the national consciousness, like Kansas City’s burnt ends or more recently Oklahoma City’s onion burgers, plenty of lesser-known specialties tell their own stories about the local foodways.
We asked some die-hard heartlanders to share their favorite niche delicacies from home. Though we could split hairs about which regional foods deserve a shoutout, our experts came back with a dozen dishes that represent distinct styles of American regional cooking. All mirror the area’s cultural mishmash, from its Native roots to its waves of immigration to its foundational love of deep-frying things in cornflakes.
Bowl and a Roll
Across the heartland
A hearty bowl of beef-and-bean chili with a sticky, sweet cinnamon roll on the side is the best heartland food pairing you’ve probably never tried. Though often maligned by outsiders, this gut-warming odd couple has endured for the better part of a century. The combo first appeared in school cafeterias across the Midwest, where chili continues to be a cost-effective staple. Immigrant cooks from Germany and Sweden likely served the beef-and-bean stew alongside cinnamon-flecked pastries from their ancestral countries, and “bowl and a roll” Fridays became a generations-long tradition.
Today, the duo is a common local alternative to pancake dinner fundraisers, and can be found in area restaurants and home kitchens as soon as the weather cools. Try the nostalgic school lunch duo at Ladybird Diner in Lawrence, Kansas, or Tina’s Cafe and Catering in Lincoln, Nebraska. Insider tip: Dip the roll in the bowl as you go. — Anna Archibald
Cheese Dip
Arkansas
In Arkansas, melty cheese dip is a way of life — just don’t call it queso. Across the state, there are countless iterations of cheese dip on restaurant menus and served at backyard potlucks, leading Arkansans to boast that their state (not Texas) is the real home of cheesy, spicy dip. While it’s true that cheese dip has long been an Arkansas staple, the distinction is mostly semantic, and the base recipe for cheese dip and queso are virtually identical.
Arkansas’s version was invented, most sources say, in 1935 at the Mexico Chiquito chain of restaurants. It almost always begins with processed American cheese. From there, chefs and home cooks spice up their takes with everything from Ro-Tel tomatoes to chili sauce, creating a creamy, mildly spicy concoction that is nigh impossible to stop eating alongside a big pile of tortilla chips. — Amy McCarthy
The Cheese Frenchee
Nebraska
Nebraska’s Cheese Frenchee starts like most grilled cheese sandwiches: two thick slices of hearty white bread, slathered with mayo and stuffed with American cheese. The magic happens when it’s sliced into triangles, dipped in batter, rolled in crunchy cornflakes, and deep-fried to perfection. Originating at Lincoln’s now-closed King’s Food Host, opened in 1955, the Frenchee remains a Nebraska legend. You can still enjoy the retro treat at Don & Millie’s in Lincoln, Omaha, and Bellevue, or at the Amigos/Kings Classic chain, where it’s served the old-school way: with two crinkly pickles placed atop each of the triangles. — Carlos Velasco
Chislic
South Dakota
When German immigrants from Russia settled in southeastern South Dakota in the 1870s, they brought chislic (derived from Turkish shashlik), a rustic snack of cubed lamb or mutton that was historically grilled over an open wood fire. In the largely treeless plains of South Dakota, settlers started frying cubes of excess meat in sheep lard, eventually using proteins like beef, venison, or goat. Nowadays, you’ll find chislic served alongside a pile of toothpicks and crackers everywhere from sports bars to block parties. “Other communities may have picnics, but here you get together to have chislic,” says Andrea Baer, president of the board of directors of the South Dakota Chislic Festival. “It’s always been a uniquely social tradition.”
While the official “state nosh” can be found on menus throughout the state and elsewhere in the adjoining Midwest, it’s most abundant in southeastern South Dakota. In Sioux Falls, for example, the Barrel House serves a version of grilled hand-cut beef chislic with Texas toast. — Matt Kirouac
Hog Fry
Oklahoma
The hog fry is, as my late father would say, a piece of “indige-niuty.”
Some Native foods are born from necessity, others from custom. The hog fry is one of those happy accidents, an assimilated food-turned-celebration feast. While modern pork (now more widely used) is certainly not traditional, pre-Removal Cherokees in ancestral lands (modern Alabama, Georgia, Tennessee, and North Carolina) often hunted feral hogs for their meat. Some still do, though my generation usually prefers less gamey cuts. Today, a hog fry primarily serves a social and celebratory function, akin to a powwow or a gathering at an elder’s home. The meat, usually pork butt cut into chunks, is traditionally cooked outdoors in large cast-iron kettles and seasoned simply with shortening and salt, though some rogue cooks go for spices and mixes of their own creation. A hog fry can celebrate anything and anyone — a baby shower, a wedding, a book deal (crossing my fingers for that one). Paired with fried potatoes, beans, and fry bread, there is nothing from home I crave more. — Autumn Fourkiller
The Lunchbox
Oklahoma City
Invented in the 1990s at the late Edna Scott’s namesake Oklahoma City bar, Edna’s, the Lunchbox cocktail has since become a beloved rite of passage. It goes like this: Fill a shot glass with amaretto, place it at the bottom of a chilled beer mug, pour Coors Light — and it must be Coors Light — over the top until it’s three-quarters full, fill the rest of the mug with OJ, and throw it back in one heroic go. In a testament to the drink’s popularity, the bar served more than 3 million as of this year. And what’s with the name, you ask? As Scott’s daughter told Punch: “It’s got a little bit of everything you need in it, you know?” — Talia Baiocchi
Runza (AKA Bierock)
Kansas and Nebraska
Known by many names — Bierock, Runza, and even Cabbage Burger — this handheld pie is beloved by many (including by vice presidential nominee Tim Walz) for its soft, slightly sweet yeast dough filled with a classic mix of ground beef and cabbage, and an aromatic blend of softened onion, garlic, caraway, and more often than not, cheese.
Originating with Volga Germans in Russia, who brought their culinary traditions to the Great Plains in the 1800s, the specialty gained fame in Nebraska when Sally Everett and her brother Alex Brening started the regional Runza chain, which now has dozens of locations across the state, serving varieties like Swiss mushroom, southwest, and BBQ bacon. Today, the Runza is as synonymous with Nebraska as a Cornhusker game, which, coincidentally, pairs perfectly with a hearty beef Runza. — CV
St. Paul Sandwich
St. Louis
While toasted ravioli gets the spotlight as the signature dish of St. Louis, the St. Paul sandwich is the dark horse delicacy of this town. The St. Paul is a Chinese American invention, essentially an egg foo young patty — a golden fried omelet — with bean sprouts, eggs, onions, and meat, like pork or shrimp, and became particularly popular amid the city’s buzzing Black food scene. When it comes out of the fryer, it’s served on plain white bread and dressed up with a slather of mayo, and maybe some sliced white onion, tomatoes, lettuce, and pickles for a crucial hit of tang. Drizzle on a little sweet-and-sour sauce for a final flourish, and you’ve got a St. Louis classic.
But you won’t find these sandwiches just anywhere. Look for the St. Paul on menus at Chinese and chop suey spots east of Highway 170, approaching St. Louis City, and North St. Louis. Try one at Mai Lee, Lefty’s Fried Rice, or Quik Wok. — Meera Nagarajan
Springfield-Style Cashew Chicken
Missouri
In most Chinese American restaurants, cashew chicken refers to stir-fried bird, but in Springfield, Missouri, a local fried-chicken variation is a point of pride. The dish first popped up at Leong’s Asian Diner, where, as chef David Leong told the New York Times, he gave the people what they wanted: “When I moved here in the 1950s, people kept telling me about fried chicken. … I gave them fried chicken with Chinese oyster sauce and cashews.” All around Springfield, dozens of restaurants now serve the dish, which the town proudly promotes on a cashew chicken trail. While variations abound, the Springfield News-Leader lays out a few crucial parts: chopped and fried white meat; extra thick sauce; rice (usually fried but sometimes steamed); a pork wonton, crab rangoon, or egg roll on the side. It all adds up to enough food to serve as lunch leftovers, should you successfully reconstitute the sauce. — Nick Mancall-Bitel
Snickers Salad
Iowa, Nebraska, and the Dakotas
Snickers salad is a two-word incantation with the power to summon any true-blue heartlander and repulse almost everyone else over the age of 10. Snickers salad is part of an enduring canon of dessert-leaning Midwestern salads, such as Watergate, ambrosia, and Oreo fluff. What’s not to like about tart Granny Smith apples, chopped Snickers bars (pounded “with a hammer,” many recipes instruct), Cool Whip, and instant vanilla pudding, tumbled together in a melamine bowl the size of a stock tank? Call it a one-bowl budino or a reconstructed trifle if it makes you feel better. But “salad” rightly denotes its position at the Midwestern potluck, spooned out next to the hot dish and hot beef sundaes.
This dish, which emphatically doesn’t demand the pomp of a separate course, also isn’t new. Evidence of a tomato, mayo, and candy bar-laden predecessor appears in an Oh Henry! cookbook circa the 1920s. This Snickers-based descendent is worth a try even if you’re not in Iowa, Nebraska, or South Dakota — the three states where, sources say, it’s most popular. — Liz Cook
Taco Pizza
Iowa
Back in 1974, the story goes, a franchisee of the popular pizza chain Happy Joe’s, based in Davenport, Iowa, asked owner Joe Whitty if he could serve tacos. Whitty said no, Happy Joe’s was a pizza joint. But the request inspired him. After retreating to the kitchen, he emerged a couple of days later with taco pizza: taco-spiced beef and a blend of cheddar and mozzarella, garnished with lettuce, tomatoes, taco chips, and hot sauce (preferably squeezed from a plastic packet) and served on the traditional Quad Cities malt crust. With a flavor profile not unlike tacos made from Old El Paso kits, it has become the taste of childhood and happiness for many Iowans.
Over the years, the concept of taco pizza has been refined and improved. It’s generally agreed that the best comes from Casey’s gas stations, made with refried beans, salsa, and spicy chips. Somehow the concept has failed to catch on outside of Iowa, but Iowans are secretly glad nobody’s going to ruin this for them. — Aimee Levitt
Wojapi
The Dakotas
Let’s look at the map together: I am an Oklahoma Cherokee formed by Yuchi traditions, with friends from a large swath of states, Indigenous cultures, and tribes, though none of them (yet) are Sioux from the Dakotas. Wojapi, however, is distinctly Sioux. A sauce traditionally made from chokecherries and sweetened with honey or maple syrup, wojapi starts by boiling berries and water into a lush mixture and then sweetening it to taste. The results can be used as a dressing, a topping for meat, or in my case, a clutch accoutrement on a piece of salty cornbread. I make my wojapi with raspberries and blackberries, though generally any berry will work. To the Sioux, the people who created this treasure, I am forever and eternally grateful. — Autumn Fourkiller
Fact checked by Kelsey Lannin
Copy edited by Laura Michelle Davis
Photo illustration credits: Aimee Kraft / Shutterstock, Brent Hofacker / Shutterstock, Shutterstock.
