Cleveland's sandwich? Say hello to the Polish Boy

The cultural identities of American cities often revolve around food, like the Philly cheesesteak, or the Chicago’s Italian beef sandwich. Cleveland is no different.

For decades, people have been chowing down on a sandwich informed by the city's Eastern European and Black culinary history: the Polish Boy.

While the exact origins of the kielbasa-based sandwich are unclear, one restaurant that has been offering Polish Boys for as long as many can remember is Whitmore's Bar-B-Q, located in Warrensville Heights, just to the east of Cleveland.

In the kitchen of the modest counter-service-only restaurant, owner and head chef Vance Whitmore pulls a brick-red kielbasa sausage out of the deep fryer, followed by a handful of French fries, to put on a simple white hot dog bun. He then tops the sandwich off with homemade coleslaw and Whitmore’s famous barbecue sauce.

Whitmore, who is 70, and his twin brother Virgil III, have been making Polish Boys for decades, since at least the 1970s, they said. They sell between five hundred and a thousand a week.

"I'm a third generation Whitmore," Vance Whitmore said. "My grandfather got here in 1942, and he started the process of doing ribs and chicken and barbecue and stuff like that. And it was real big, actually, because at the time there were not a lot of barbecue restaurants."

Vance Whitmore says his grandfather brought with him a knowledge of Southern cooking to a town filled with Eastern European immigrants.

"So he brought that Texas flavor to it, as it were. Now the Polish Boy came in, we had other people who were trying to do it even in some little local bars and those types of things. But then he's the one guy who made it famous."

Virgil Whitmore Sr. owned several barbecue restaurants throughout his time in Cleveland, and is one of several Black restaurant owners, including Eugene "Hot Sauce" Williams, who defined barbecue in the city for decades in the 1900s, according to entries on Cleveland State University's Center for Public History and Digital Humanities website.

His grandson, Virgil III, said they were brought into the family business from a young age.

"We were like 14 years old, we were cutting potatoes, cleaning floors, you know, bring stock out of the basement," he said.

Kevin Jones, a regular Whitmore’s customer, has been eating their food for decades; he said his parents started taking him there when he was a kid. His favorite is a variation with smoked pork on top of it, called the Polish Boy deluxe.

"It's the sauce, and the (pork) shoulder on top of it," Jones said of Whitmore's rendition. "Can’t beat that."

Cleveland food critic Douglas Trattner, who's written about food in Cleveland for more than two decades, said southern barbecue was brought to Cleveland by Black Americans like Whitmore throughout the Great Migration in the 1900s. While the historical record doesn’t show who specifically invented it, what is clear is the Polish Boy is the result of a melding of different cultures.

"You think about Taco Bell, you know, they only have seven ingredients. But somehow they managed to combine them in one million ways," Trattner said. "Same thing with Whitmore. What he was doing was, we got the sausage, we got the buns, we've got the fries, we've got the sauce, we got the coleslaw. You know, you put it together and you come up with something resourceful, delicious and fun."

Trattner has co-authored eight books with Cleveland chef and Food Network personality Michael Symon, who himself sells Polish Boys at his Cleveland restaurant, Mabel’s BBQ, although Symon's rendition is called the Polish Girl and features pork shoulder. He said the Polish Boy saw a surge in popularity in the early 2000s as media attention was drawn to Cleveland by Symon and other local chefs, with Symon lauding Cleveland food truck Seti's Polish Boys in the show "The Best Thing I Ever Ate." Steve Harvey, who himself has Cleveland roots, also featured Whitmore's and Cleveland's B & M Bar-B-Q in a 2018 "food feud" feature, with Whitmore and B & M owner Greg Beckham facing off over their Polish Boys.

Trattner says the sloppy sandwich - which is either eaten with hands that are bound to get messy, or a fork and knife - speaks to the kind of city that Cleveland is.

"We're hearty eaters you know, we're meat and potatoes people and that's literally meat and potatoes, right in a bun," he said.

While some longtime local destinations for Polish Boys, including Hot Sauce Williams and Seti’s Polish Boys, have closed in recent years, newcomers are picking up the banner.

Ygal Kaufman

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Ideastream Public Media

The Polish Boy served at Banter Beer & Wine, seen here at the location on Cleveland's East Side in the Van Aken District.

Cleveland chef Matthew Stipe started Banter Beer & Wine in 2015 with the Polish Boy - featuring a locally made kielbasa - at the center. While some chefs are experimenting with the Cleveland classic, he’s a bit of a Polish Boy purist.

"A Polish Boy needs a bun, needs a smoked kielbasa, needs barbecue sauce, French fries and coleslaw, that 100% needs to have it," Stipe said. "But within those parameters, feel free to get a little weird."

Stipe said he hopes interest in Cleveland’s burgeoning food scene encourages people to come to visit Cleveland. Many restaurants offer unique takes on Eastern European fare like pierogies and the Polish Boy, but also have plenty more to offer; Banter in particular has variations on poutine, the Canadian staple with gravy, cheese curds and french fries.

Ygal Kaufman

/

Ideastream Public Media

Banter's Matthew Stipe at the Van Aken location.

"Ultimately, it doesn't matter where you go," Stipe said. "Just find a Polish Boy and enjoy the messiness and the greatness that it holds in your hand."

Back at Whitmore’s, Chef Vance Whitmore says the Polish Boy is Cleveland’s sandwich, even if it's never been officially designated as such.

"I just think we are a hardworking town and we like something hearty, something meaty, something filling at a reasonable cost, because we work hard, we don’t have millions (of dollars) floating around here," Whitmore said with a laugh.