Buds Brew Chillicothe Institution

by Natalie DeBruin

It’s hard to define the Crosskeys Tavern, Dale Perry says. It’s a combination of a neighborhood bar, a downtown restaurant and an Irish pub. But if there’s one thing that it is, it’s an institution.

Dale and his longtime friend, Tom Burke, opened the Chillicothe tavern in 1972. Tom’s father—Tom Sr.—told them that they could sell it in a few years and make money, or they could “create an institution.”

“You have your choice, right now,” Dale remembers his saying.

An institution, Tom Sr. said, is a place “where the help comes on their night off.” Dale has another definition: a place where a woman can meet her husband after work. She can wait for him and feel safe, and he can know she’s waiting without worrying about “some jackass hitting on his wife.”

The idea for the bar was born—as so many great ideas are—at a bar.

Tom and Dale had had a few drinks (“or ten,” Dale says) when Tom turned to his friend with a proclamation.

“You know what? We oughta open a bar. We could make a million dollars,” he said.

The two are still waiting on that fortune, but the bar is a reality. Dale and Tom stocked the bar not only with whiskey, but with reference books—atlases, dictionaries, the Guinness Book of World Records—in order to settle “discussions.” (“ ‘Argument’ is not a good word in a saloon,” Dale says.)

The Crosskeys is full of personal touches. The “Rogue’s Gallery” is a wall covered in the photos of “friends of the house,” and those who have died are memorialized with black ribbons. The antique bar—from the 1860s—is made from a single piece of wood. The tavern hosts meetings for local organizations as diverse as the Chillicothe Dart League and the St. Anne’s Society of the Episcopal Church. The clientele ranges in age from 21 to 85, from all income groups and lines of work.

“It’s a very informal place,” Tom says.

Even the name of the Tavern is steeped in personal history.

Tom’s father was born and raised in Ireland, where the crosskeys symbol on the sign of a tavern has long meant that travelers can room there. Even today, one sees the crosskeys all over Ireland, Scotland and Wales, Dale says.

In addition, one of the original bars in the Northwest Territory was the Crosskeys in Chillicothe, and the Crosskeys Tavern was meant, in some ways, to resurrect that, Tom says.

“I like to take care of people, make them happy, have a good time,” Tom says.

Tom runs the bar for the most part, now, though he no longer does the late nights (“I can no longer hoot with the owls and soar with the eagles,” he says). Dale lives in Florida, but he comes up several times a year to visit and talk business — appropriately, he’ll be at the Crosskeys for St. Patrick’s Day.

The Crosskeys Tavern is, after all, an institution.

The Old Canal Smokehouse

by Zach Schwartz

Google “Chillicothe, Ohio,” and you’ll find countless photos of old churches, extensive flatlands, parallel streets and farm country. By no means is it the thriving metropolis of Ohio, but it sure is one of the leaders in Southeastern Ohio.

Chillicothe’s downtown is beautiful in the fall. The drive down Route 50 through the yellow, orange and red of the autumn woods leads you right into the town, where those parallel roads form the center of the 213-year-old settlement. And one of the first sights you’ll see is Old Canal Smoke House.

This place draws you right in. Situated on the corner of Water and Mulberry Streets, the old-style hotel look-alike sits next to The Dock at Water Gathering Place, the Chillicothe Body Shop, Wallpaper n’ More and the Candlelight Bridal Shop—all of which are brick, just like most of the other structures lining the streets

It’s a modern place (founded in 2006) that doesn’t have much flash when you walk in. A decently sized bar sits off to the right before you enter the dining room area, which looks a lot like your mom’s kitchen at home. The tables are covered with crimson tablecloths and surrounded by black chairs. It is a very homey—until you taste their barbeque sauce.

Two bottles of the splendid succulence that is Old Canal Smoke House’s sauce sit off to the side of your table, just begging you to have a taste. Ketchup-based and given a kick by special spices, the sweet and spicy sauce is the best, but the original is tasty by itself as well.

As my friend and I sit down, we pour some of the sauce on a plate, swirl our fingers in it and put it to our mouths. Soon, we have to tell the waitress we need a few minutes to order since we’ve been too busy eating sauce by the spoonful to look at the menu.

We finally decide on two of the specials—a platter of flatbread topped with pork brisket, mushrooms, cheese and barbeque sauce; and a pizza made with pulled pork, banana peppers, mushrooms, mozzarella cheese, onions and more barbeque sauce. As wonderful of a selection as it turned out to be, other options piqued our interest as well—pulled pork platters and barbeque ribs and chicken make a good $12 dinner, while the buffalo burger and spicy “pig chips,” topped with jack cheese and bacon seemed to make for a filling lunch.

Piled high, the two platters filled our stomachs in no time, and a pizza-sized box fit the leftovers. Chillicothe may have been around since 1796, but this three-year-old smoke house fits right in.

A Taste of History

BY Chris Kardish

When William McKell’s uncle decided to leave Ireland on a trans-Atlantic voyage in 1830, the 21-year-old tagged along. A no-nonsense man who was fed up with life in Derry Hall, he would do well in America. After gaining the trust of some brothers who sold window glass and fine china, William agreed to extend their business past the Ohio Canal. But the canal was frozen over in the winter of 1832 and he only got as far as Chillicothe. Deciding to set up shop in that fertile valley hedged between the Scioto River and Paint Creek, William never looked back. Four years later, he married Phebe Scott Cook, an independently minded woman with an equally strong character.

One-hundred and seventy three years later, the couple’s grandson contributed this story of a Chillicothe settler along with a recipe for apple cupcakes to Rich Traditions: a collection of family recipes and memories, a project of the Junior Civic League of Chillicothe

Although the cookbook was inspired by the work of the Junior Civic League of Canton, this collection focuses on what makes Chillicothe Chillicothe, says Kristyne Ramsey, a music therapist, who spearheaded the project. “This is just about families; it’s about the people,” she says. “When you think about it, that’s where history really comes from. It’s a way for people to talk about where they came from, talk about stories of their families that haven’t been written down.”

The recipes, interspersed with the stories dating back to the American Revolution, were taste tested and approved by the women of the Junior Civic League. But while Kristyne swears by every submission, she’s not totally sold on the pineapple casserole.

“You’ve got your pineapple, and sugar, flour, and all so far so good,” she says, rattling off the ingredients while preparing for the bombshell. “But all of a sudden: sharp cheddar cheese, grated? With pineapple and cracker crumbs? I thought, ‘that sounds disgusting!’ And I’ve had more people say that was awesome. I haven’t done it yet. I’m a little scared.” Smiling mischievously, she says she’s saving that recipe for a family reunion. “I’m going to say, ‘who made that?’”

One story that Krystine will never forget, though she can’t remember who told it to her, exemplifies the “accidents” that define our lives.

“A family was on a train going through Chillicothe, and they saw—I don’t think they could read very well—but they saw the ‘C-H-I’ and thought ‘Oh, we’re here! They got off thinking this was Chicago and they just lived here. I’ll never forget that. They just lived here all of their lives but they were going to Chicago, that was their goal.”

The 20-year resident of Chillicothe insists that her own story would fail to inspire. “I didn’t put my story in here, because I thought it was kind of boring, but people are like ‘how’d you come from Canton.’ Well, um, I got married, and the gentleman had a job down here, and that’s why I moved down here, but now we’re divorced. People ask ‘why didn’t you move back to Canton?’ Why? I already started my career here. And I loved the area and I thought ‘I don’t want to go back to Canton.’ I love it here, so I stayed…I guess I can blame one good thing on my ex-husband: a good town.”

Like the unknown family originally bound for Chicago or William mcKell, held up by the winter of 1832, Kristyne never looked back. Her story, along with pineapple casserole, are every bit a part of Chillicothe’s history.

Pineapple Casserole

1 (20 ounce) can pineapple (bits), reserve juice

½ cup sugar

3 tablespoons flour

3 tablespoons pineapple juice from can

1 cup sharp cheddar cheese, grated

1 stick butter

½ cup round buttery cracker crumbs