Springfield’s Horseshoe

When my family moved from Central Illinois to Chicago many years ago, we moved into a neighborhood in which, within a few blocks, we had examples of the cuisine of Korea, Colombia, the Phillipines, Thailand, Greece, Mexico, Sweden, Argentina, and of course the numerous hot dog and Italian Beef stands. Just north of us was Devon Avenue, Chicago’s Desi corridor; just southwest of us was Albany Park and its many Middle Eastern establishments. We truly lived in a land of plenty. Yet I often complained about two things from home that you just couldn’t find in Chicago: the breaded pork tenderloin sandwich (which I’ve written about on this site before), and the Horseshoe.

What is a horseshoe? A specialty of Central Illinois, born in Springfield and originally served at the Leland Hotel in 1928, the horseshoe is an open faced sandwich of some type of meat (commonly ham, hamburger patties or roast turkey, though many different varieties have come along since its inception), served on a hot plate covered in fries, the whole pile smothered in cheese sauce.

The name horseshoe came from the presentation. A slice of ham off the bone does have a bit of a horseshoe shape, and the fries were said to represent horseshoe nails. I suppose that makes the Texas toast hooves. As for the cheese sauce–well, it’s best not to overthink these things.

Of course, a Horseshoe isn’t an every day meal. It’s a ridiculous indulgence. Not only that, but the horseshoes served in Quincy were just awful–canned cheese sauce, frozen crinkle-cut fries, hockey puck food service burgers. I have no idea why I developed the affinity for them that I have, other than the fact that I am just a big dumb self-indulgent fat man who needs to take a hard look in the mirror.

Nevertheless, I’ve been looking forward to covering them, having a sentimental attachment to them. Having them come up in September was a stroke of good timing as well. Every Labor Day weekend, I load the family up and head back to Quincy for the annual Labor Day Hog Roast at my family’s farm across the river in Missouri. The drive takes us through Springfield, so I decided to take the opportunity to try a horseshoe at a place I hear referenced more often in the “best horseshoe” discussion than any other, D’Arcy’s Pint.

D’Arcy’s Pint in Springfield

D’Arcy’s Pint is a faux Irish pub of the type that many of us in the US have probably visited a few times in our lives–dimly lit, cobblestone fireplace, dark-stained wood everywhere, festooned by vintage Guinness advertisements. They had brisk business going at 1pm on a Saturday when we visited, and though I’d hoped to get a table on their patio, eventually I had to relent and let us be seated inside.

Darcy’s offers many “meat” options for their horseshoes: ham, corned beef, turkey, bacon, veggie, hamburger, grilled chicken, Italian sausage, Buffalo chicken, breaded tenderloin, roast beef, pastrami, and walleye are listed on their current menu. We’d stopped and picked up Damian from UIUC on the way so we were at our full complement, but of the 5 of us, only myself and the two teenage boys ordered horseshoes. Max chose the corned beef ‘shoe, Damian the Italian sausage. I felt like I should get something traditional, but I’m a sucker for fried things and hot sauce, so Buffalo chicken is what I ordered.

Buffalo Chicken Horseshoe from D’Arcy’s Pint

I was disappointed when I saw the fries–crinkle cut fries almost always come out of a freezer bag, and I don’t think the cut brings anything to the table in terms of flavor or texture. To me, crinkle-cut fries bespeak laziness. But I myself am often lazy, so I can’t point too many fingers there. I’d heard good things about D’Arcy’s Pint’s cheese sauce, and it was a decent white cheddar mornay, but it didn’t blow my hair back to be honest. They also offer a spicy version with nacho cheese sauce but none of us took them up on it so I can’t speak to its quality.

I’d eat that chicken any day, cheese sauce or no

Max’s corned beef just didn’t jibe with the sauce–something about the pickling spices just didn’t work with cheese, though Damian’s Italian sausage version was surprisingly harmonious. However, the chicken was outstanding. On the whole this was a satisfying horseshoe, and far better than most of the versions I grew up with in Quincy, but I knew I’d have to dig further to get the horseshoe I really wanted. In short, I was going to have to DIY this thing.

Fortunately, the Internet holds many things, including this supposed original Leland Hotel horseshoe sauce recipe. It’s a simple enough recipe–Mornay sauce is essentially bechamel with cheese mixed in, and this one adds some beer to make it something more like Welsh rarebit. The author calls for an English style ale, and while I certainly agree that malty is the way to go here, it’s September, the time of Festbiers, and being a Chicago guy I couldn’t pass up using this new one that’s on the shelves.

My favorite part is the ULTIMATE OKTOBERFEST DAD mascot

For the cheese, I used an “extra sharp” cheddar that I like quite a bit. I had some 8-year-old Wisconsin cheddar in the fridge that I bought at a farmer’s market, but I figured that might be overkill.

Extra sharp cheddar

The cheese sauce was good, but maybe a bit too malty, and I’d have liked it to be a little saltier, but as the ham and fries would be adding their own salty flavors to the whole I left it as is.

For the meat, I used a ham steak.

OK, it doesn’t look much like a horseshoe but I’ll be cutting it in half

For fries I wanted some good, fresh-cut skin-on beauties, and I could have made them myself, but there’s a joint called Nicky’s just a mile or so up the road that makes them perfectly, so I outsourced that portion.

For the bread, look no further than your supermarket shelves.

Why do they call it Texas Toast before it’s even toasted?

As for a heated plate, those are easy to find. Just open the dishwasher.

I toasted a couple pieces of the thick-cut bread to begin with, swiping a little butter across them (but let’s be honest, you’re dumping cheese sauce over this whole thing, do you really need to add a lot of butter?)

Texas Toast²

I pan fried the ham steak, cut it in half, and added it to the pile.

OK, I’m sort of seeing the horseshoe shape now

Then the fries.

They don’t look like nails at all, I would be a horrible farrier

And finally, the crowning glory of the horseshoe, the cheese sauce.

Ham Horseshoe

Does this look like a sandwich to you? We’ve always been a bit on the fence about open-faced sandwiches here at the Tribunal. On the one hand, this is a sentimental favorite. On the other hand–that is a plate of cheese fries with some toast and meat underneath. Nothing about this says sandwich to me.

But I have to admit, I’m still a fan. The amount of salt in the fries and ham did help balance out the cheese sauce, though I still found it too malty. (“It tastes weird,” said 9 year old Ian, with whom I shared this plate. Oh, son. That flavor is your birthright.) It doesn’t feel right to be eating a sandwich with a knife and fork, but this would be far from the only time that’s happened on the Tribunal. I shared one plate with Ian, and Mindy shared the other with Max. Neither plate was finished. (Though we did all finish our horseshoes at D’Arcy’s pint. For some reason, my own version seemed especially indulgent.)

I have a good pint of the cheese sauce left over and I’m not sure what I’m going to do with it. Any suggestions? Maybe I should go ahead and make a Welsh rarebit!

Jim Behymer

I like sandwiches.

I like a lot of other things too but sandwiches are pretty great