Cincinnati-Style Chili Ramen
Cincinnati chili isn't really chili, and this isn't really ramen, but somehow when you mash them together you get something that's more authentic than either one alone. I know that makes zero sense, but stick with me here. The Midwest has this beautiful way of taking perfectly good food and making it completely weird—like putting cinnamon and cocoa in chili, or serving it over spaghetti like some kind of Italian fever dream. But when you swap those spaghetti noodles for ramen and pile on the cheese like you're building a dairy mountain, something magical happens. The cocoa adds this deep, almost mole-like richness that makes you forget you're eating what's basically meat sauce with an identity crisis. And those kidney beans? They're doing the heavy lifting while the cinnamon whispers sweet nothings to your taste buds. It's comfort food for people who like their comfort served with a side of "what the hell am I eating and why can't I stop?"
River spice drifts west—Cocoa winks in scarlet swirl—Cheese snow crowns the curls
Let Me Tell You...
I discovered Cincinnati chili during the worst road trip of my life, when my car broke down in Ohio and I was stuck in this tiny town for three days waiting for parts.
The mechanic recommended this local diner that served something called "five-way chili," and I figured anything was better than gas station hot dogs.
What arrived at my table looked like someone had dumped chili over spaghetti and then buried it under a mountain of cheese, which seemed like either genius or insanity.
The first bite was a revelation—sweet, spicy, and completely unlike any chili I'd ever had.
There was cinnamon in there, and cocoa, and this weird complexity that made me understand why people in Ohio get so defensive about their regional cuisine.
When I got home, I became obsessed with recreating that weird, wonderful flavor.
I started by browning ground beef in a big pot, then added onions and garlic until they were soft and fragrant.
The key was blooming the cocoa powder and cinnamon with the tomato paste for about thirty seconds, which eliminated any raw flour taste and made the whole kitchen smell like some kind of Mexican-Midwestern fusion fever dream.
I added tomato sauce, beef stock, and all those weird spices that make Cincinnati chili so distinctive—allspice, cumin, and just a touch of cayenne for heat.
The whole thing simmered away for about half an hour, developing this deep, complex flavor that was part chili, part mole, and completely addictive.
Here's where I got creative, or sacrilegious, depending on your perspective.
Instead of serving it over spaghetti like a normal person, I decided to use ramen noodles because they seemed like they'd soak up the sauce better.
I cooked them separately, then tossed them into the chili, watching them absorb all those incredible flavors.
The kidney beans went in at the end, along with a splash of apple cider vinegar that brightened the whole dish and cut through all that rich, complex sauce.
The final touch was a mountain of shredded cheddar cheese, chopped white onions, and oyster crackers, because if you're going to commit to Midwestern weirdness, you might as well go all the way.
The first bowl was exactly what I'd been craving—sweet, spicy, rich, and completely satisfying in a way that made me understand why people get so passionate about regional food.
The cocoa added this deep, almost chocolatey richness that played perfectly with the cinnamon and chili powder, while the ramen noodles soaked up every drop of that incredible sauce.
I topped it with everything—cheese, onions, crackers—and ate it while standing in my kitchen, too impatient to sit down.
Sometimes the best dishes come from being stranded in strange places and discovering that weird can be wonderful, especially when you're not afraid to make it even weirder.
Ingredients
- 8 ounces dried ramen noodles (2 bricks, seasoning packets discarded)
- 1 pound ground beef
- 2 tablespoons olive oil
- 1 small yellow onion, finely diced
- 3 cloves garlic, minced
- 2 tablespoons tomato paste
- 1 (14-ounce) can tomato sauce
- 2 cups low-sodium beef stock
- 2 tablespoons chili powder
- 1 tablespoon unsweetened cocoa powder
- 1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
- 1/2 teaspoon ground allspice
- 1/2 teaspoon ground cumin
- 1/2 teaspoon ground cayenne pepper (optional, for heat)
- 1/2 teaspoon black pepper
- 1 teaspoon kosher salt (plus more to taste)
- 1 tablespoon Worcestershire sauce
- 2 teaspoons apple cider vinegar
- 1 tablespoon brown sugar
- 1 bay leaf
- 1 (15-ounce) can kidney beans, drained and rinsed
- 1/2 cup shredded cheddar cheese
- 1/2 cup chopped white onion (for serving)
- Oyster crackers (for serving)
Preparation
- Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil. Cook ramen noodles for 2–3 minutes until just tender, drain, rinse under cool water, and set aside.
- In a large Dutch oven or pot, heat olive oil over medium heat. Add ground beef and cook, breaking it up, until browned. Drain excess fat if needed.
- Add onion and cook for 3 minutes until softened. Stir in garlic and tomato paste; cook for 1 minute more.
- Add tomato sauce, beef stock, chili powder, cocoa powder, cinnamon, allspice, cumin, cayenne, black pepper, and salt. Stir well to combine.
- Add Worcestershire sauce, apple cider vinegar, brown sugar, and bay leaf. Bring to a simmer and cook uncovered for 25–30 minutes, stirring occasionally, until thickened and flavorful.
- Stir in kidney beans and simmer for 5 minutes more. Remove bay leaf. Taste and adjust seasoning as needed.
- Add cooked ramen noodles to the chili and toss gently to combine.
- Divide chili ramen among bowls. Top with cheddar, white onion, oyster crackers, and desired toppings.
Chef's Tips
- Bloom the cocoa powder and cinnamon with the tomato paste for 30 seconds to eliminate any raw flour taste and intensify the warm spice flavors.
- Add the apple cider vinegar at the end to brighten the rich, complex chili without interfering with the long simmering process.
- Variation: Create a 'Japanese 5-way' by adding pickled daikon radish and nori flakes alongside the traditional cheese and onions.
Serving Suggestion
Serve in deep bowls with the toppings arranged in separate small dishes, allowing diners to customize their own 'way' experience.