Obama and the Cheese Fries

Location: 1213 U Street NW, Washington, DC

There were a few reasons why I wanted to visit Ben's Chili Bowl, but when I saw that the president-elect had been there, I had to go along. If only I'd gone on the day I intended to, I could have clearly helped Mr. Obama with his inaugural speech. I'm sure he would have rushed home, sacked his speech writer and immediately offered me a job. Alas, as is the way of the world, I simply joined the lunchtime rush in ordering a "half smoke with cheese fries" cursing my lack of foresight - America's first black president was obviously going to pay a visit to a Washington DC institution that for decades has served the city's large black population with comfort food. I should have been camping outside, waiting for special branch to arrive and check me out. Ho hum.

Since my visit to Voodoo Doughnut in Portland, OR, I've been thinking hard about "cult food places". In a west Wales context we're talking the Central Cafe in Newcastle Emlyn, or in an Edinburgh context we could be talking about La Favorita - those places that are a microcosm of the community that they serve. They are evidence that a food 'experience' is as much about context as the food itself. When I'm in Sicily, I want the freshest seafood cooked simply with garlic, parsley, lemon and olive oil. When I'm in Germany I want a bratwurst.

And when I'm at Ben's, I want soul food.

Opened in 1958, and having served the same mix of greasy fries, bowls of smoking chili and hot dogs ever since, what really excites me about Ben's is that you get a piece of the past when you visit. Much of the furniture is still from the 1950's, and as Washington was officially a segregated city when Ben's first opened it's doors, you're also getting a feel (and nothing more than) of how this particular community on the U-street corridor (affectionately known as 'Black Broadway') maintained their essence. It survived violent riots following the assassination of Martin Luther King and the economic depression of the 1980's, when the area was a hot-bed of drug use and completely off limit to the middle, chattering, classes who schmooze the place nowadays. But the locals still came. They were dining on memories, transported to their youth and the core of who they are.

I loved the fact that as I plopped my bottom on a rickety, swivel-crazy, plastic leather stool, a large, African-American lady bounced up looked me straight in the eye and said "Hey baby, what you want?". (Admittedly I was a little startled and only just managed to say 'a half smoke please' without sounding too ridiculous.) Just imagine how the magic would have been lost if she had said "What could I get you, my fine looking fellow?".

The food itself wasn't brilliant: dirty, greasy and altogether bad for you. But at the same time utterly wonderful and that is the question that needs to be answered. How can something so average, inspire so many? After all, Ben's has a loyal following of celebrities including Bill Cosby (he never has to pay), Denzel Washington and Bono. My sense is that it's a meeting place in the same way that the church once was, or the post office is for the elderly - a place where the true locals can catch up on the news. The food just happens: it's an ice breaker for the secret gossiping of teenage girls, the frustrations of middle-aged women and the resigned shrugs of elderly men. There will, no doubt, be massive amounts of hope as well. America has unearthed something special, and there will be no-where sweeter than Ben's come its inauguration.