cleveland eats: where the broke busker grabs grub (no, seriously)

okay, real talk. i’ve been scraping by in this town for two years, playing guitar for loose change in public squares and occasionally getting paid in pierogies. so when i say i know the local food scene, i mean the actual scene-not the glossy mags. it’s not ‘vibrant’ or ‘nestled.’ it’s often gray, cheap, and will either make you weep with joy or weep because you dropped your last five bucks on a bad decision. let’s get into it.

first, the squeeze. median rent here is like, $1,200 for a glorified closet (source: some depressing spreadsheet i saw). that means you’re eating smart. you’re not blowing cash on fancy ‘experiences.’ you’re finding the spots that feed you for under $10 and don’t judge your hoodie. safety? look, i’ve had more weird stares in the ‘safe’ suburbs than in my stomping grounds around ohio city or asiatown. just don’t wander down dark alleys after midnight looking for a tamale, man. basic stuff.

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*the weird cult of the polish boy

so there’s this thing. a sausage, twice-fried, on a bun, with fries and cheese and maybe a hot pepper. it’s called a polish boy. you’ll hear about it everywhere. it’s the drunk advice every local gives you. but here’s the rumor i overheard last week at the west side market from two guys arguing over wrench sets:

> "the real ones are at barberton chicken. not the downtown spots. those are tourist traps. you want the one that’s only open until 2pm and the lady working the counter looks like she’s seen things? that’s the move."

> "nah, man. tony’s on broadway. but you gotta get it ‘detroit style’ which means they put the fries inside the bun. it’s a crime against architecture but it’s perfect."

i tried both. barberton chicken’s version is a gut punch of salt and grease in the absolute best way. tony’s was a soggy, beautiful betrayal. my advice? try them both, then go for a 5-mile walk. you’ll need it.

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where your $8 dinner is born

this city operates on a system of ‘cash only’ and ‘line out the door.’ the best food is often in places that look like they’re actively fighting a health code violation. i’m thinking of sokolowski's university tavern-old school, polish-german-whatever, they give you a paper plate and a side of history. or the hot dog city cart outside the rock hall. it’s a mystery meat operation that somehow, after a show, tastes like manna.

and you cannot talk about cheap eats without the west side market. yeah, it’s a tourist thing. but on saturday morning, it’s where we all go. you get a $3 gyro from a guy who’s been there since watergate, then a 50-cent cinnamon roll from the dutch stand that’s basically crack. the data point you need: a full bag of groceries (bread, cheese, produce, a jar of something fermented) can be done for under $25 if you play your cards right. it’s our cost of living hack.

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the ‘neighbors’ thing

oh, you’re from [wherever]? cool. we’re basically a short drive from detroit (for their coney island dogs, which are different, somehow), pittsburgh (for their sandwiches that are just sandwiches, sorry), and the entire state of pennsylvania’s amish country (for whoopie pies and pretzels). this isn’t a food island. it’s a food depot. you load up here, you go home.

weather note: right now it’s that lovely clevelandgray™-not quite rain, not quite snow, just a damp, soul-sucking mist that gets in your bones and makes everything taste better, somehow. comfort food is not optional.

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reviews as old-man-at-the-bar warnings

i asked my landlord, frank, who’s 70 and has eaten at every dump in the city, about the best burger. he squinted and said:

> "the swoops. at the pub on 65th. it’s a tavern burger. they’ll cook it medium whether you like it or not. if you complain, they’ll point to the door. it’s perfect."

heard the same about michaels' pizza in brook park from a bartender. "it’s a cult. they’ll tell you it’s not for you. it’s for the people that know." i went. the cheese is under the sauce. it was anarchy. i loved it.

the one to avoid (according to goss): everyone raves about lola for upscale. but my friend who works at a ‘nice’ downtown place whispered: "it’s fine, but you’re paying for the name. go to covina in little italy if you want actual good italian for the same price. lola’s taps are weak and the portions are sad." take that for what it’s worth.

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look, this town’s scene is in the holes-in-the-wall. it’s in the slavic village bakeries selling kolache for $1.50. it’s in the asia town strip malls where you point at what the guy in front of you got. it’s in the kamm’s corners spots that are part bar, part funeral home, part miracle.

just bring cash. dress like you’re about to get messy. and if someone tells you to try a polish boy, ask them where. the answer tells you everything about who they are.

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(image of a messy, steaming plate of food on a checkered paper at a diner)

(image of the West Side Market crowd and stalls)

my de facto map (do not trust google for this):

shameless links that actually help:*
- the real talk, unfiltered: r/cleveland on reddit, specifically the food threads. it’s 90% bitching, 10% gold.
- yelp’s okay, but filter for ‘cash only’ and ‘bustling.’ that’s your signal.
- tripadvisor’s ‘things to do’ list is a fun joke. scroll to the bottom for the actual comments.
- this subreddit post about the ‘polish boy wars’ is required reading.

so yeah. come hungry. leave broke. tell ‘em the busker sent ya.

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