Let’s start with the creature that started it all: Provel cheese. This isn’t real cheese in the traditional sense. (Don’t tell the locals I said that.) It’s a pasteurized, processed blend of cheddar, Swiss, and provolone, with a low melting point and a very distinct twang. You’ll find it oozing over basically everything.
Provel’s primary vehicle is the St. Louis-style pizza—the aforementioned cracker crust cut into squares, not wedges. Why squares? Because that’s just how we roll, apparently. It’s less about elegant slices and more about maximum edge-to-cheese ratio, and it works brilliantly.
Then there’s toasted ravioli, or “T-Ravs” as the cool kids say. Legend has it that a chef accidentally dropped breaded ravioli into hot oil in the 1940s, and a glorious mess was born. Honestly, if every kitchen accident turned into crispy, golden parcels of pasta and cheese, I’d be a much messier cook.
Finally, we have the St. Louis-style gooey butter cake. Imagine a dense yellow cake base, topped with a sticky, buttery, almost pudding-like filling. It’s less cake and more a sweet, delicious sugar coma you can legally eat for breakfast. And you should.
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Don’t sleep on the St. Paul sandwich. Let’s get this straight: despite the name, it’s from St. Louis. It’s a deep-fried egg foo young patty (with veggies and meat) slapped between two slices of plain white bread with pickles and mayo. It sounds insane. It tastes like home.
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And then—fried brain sandwiches. Yes, you read that right. Calf brain, breaded and deep-fried, often served on a bun. It’s a remnant from St. Louis’s meatpacking past, and while it’s rarer now, you can still find it if you really want to impress your friends. (Or horrify them. Your call.)
Oh, and we haven’t even mentioned St. Louis-style barbecue. It’s all about the pork steak—a thin cut from the shoulder, slow-cooked and doused in a sweet, tomato-based sauce that’s thick enough to glue a chair to the floor. It’s messy, sticky, and absolutely perfect.
