Food and the Story

I’ve always believed the best stories aren’t just written down — they’re cooked.

Every city has its rivalries. In New York, it’s Mets or Yankees. In Chicago, it’s deep dish or thin crust. And in Philadelphia? It’s Pat’s or Geno’s.

On South 9th Street in Philadelphia, two neon-lit corners face each other like culinary gladiators. On one side: Pat’s King of Steaks, founded in 1930. On the other: Geno’s, flashy and defiant since 1966. Each claiming to make the original, the best, the only cheesesteak worth the name.

And it made me wonder: when we pick a side in a food rivalry, are we really just choosing a sandwich? Or are we choosing who we want to be?

I’m Jeanie Jo, and this is Food and the Story — where the best stories are always cooked before they’re told.

I’ve always believed the best stories aren’t just written down — they’re cooked.

Every city has its rules. In New York, don’t block the subway doors. In Los Angeles, never admit you don’t do yoga. And in Chicago? Don’t you dare put ketchup on a hot dog.

And so I found myself at Wrigley Field this summer, perched between ivy-covered walls and bleacher seats, holding a Chicago dog wrapped in wax paper. Mustard, relish, onions, tomato wedges, a pickle spear that looked like it might escape at any moment, sport peppers tucked like punctuation marks and not a drop of ketchup in sight.

I was born in Kewanee, Illinois — a small town about 150 miles southwest of here. My mom’s side of the family was Irish, Gallaghers through and through. Growing up, Gallagher Street was more than just a place name to me; it was a reminder that identity is rooted in both where you come from and what you hold onto. In Chicago, that identity just happens to be wrapped in a poppy seed bun.

And it made me wonder: are food rules really about taste — or are they about who we are when no one’s watching?

I’m Jeanie Jo, and this is Food and the Story — where the best stories are always cooked before they’re told.

I’ve always believed the best stories aren’t just written down — they’re cooked.

Every city has its soundtrack. In New York, it’s the rumble of the subway. In Chicago, it’s the screech of the L train. But in Houston? The sound that defines the city isn’t steel, engines, or jazz horns — it’s the cast-iron sizzle of fajitas.

And it made me wonder… can one woman with a backyard grill really change the way a whole city eats? And if she could, what might be simmering in our own kitchens right now, just waiting to change the story of tomorrow?

I’m Jeanie Jo, and this is Food and the Story — where the best stories are always cooked before they’re told.

I have always believed the best stories are not just written down, they are cooked. I am Jeanie Jo Cullip and this is Food and the Story. Each week we will uncover the history behind a dish or ingredient, share the story it carries, and end with a recipe you can bring to your own table. Dinner starts September 10th.