Mashawee Stop — Restaurant in Westerville

I Came for Chili, but I Stayed to Cry in the Parking Lot

Let me start by saying I’m not here to throw shade. I’m not angry at Mashawee Stop. I don’t even know Mashawee Stop. I’m sure it’s a lovely place, full of cumin and hummus and warm pita and shawarma that whispers sweet nothings as it sizzles. Good for them. Live your truth.

But I didn’t walk into that building with dreams of grilled meat and Mediterranean flair.

I walked in with the hopes and dreams of Skyline Chili coursing through my veins.

I walked in expecting a 3-Way.

Now I just feel betrayed.

Do you know what it’s like to crave Skyline? It’s not just a hunger—it’s a spiritual yearning. A deep, primal need for that cinnamon-laced chili slathered across a mound of spaghetti like an emotional support blanket. It’s a pile of shredded cheddar so tall it deserves its own summit flag. It’s oyster crackers. It’s hot sauce packets you don’t need but hoard anyway like a spicy dragon guarding treasure. It’s childhood, heartbreak food, date night, break-up night, Tuesday lunch, and drunk Thursday all rolled into one glorious plastic tray.

Now? Now I drive past my old Skyline like a widower visiting the grave of a spouse who was taken too soon.

Sure, there’s a new sign. New smells. New decor. But my stomach knows. My colon knows. My soul knows.

Once, this was a place of chili cheese coneys and carbonated joy. Now it’s tabbouleh and uncertainty.

Again, I’m not saying Mashawee Stop is bad. I’m just saying it’s not Skyline. That’s not slander. That’s just facts. I ordered something once (because I’m weak and hungry and full of curiosity and also pita is pretty good), but as I sat there chewing a perfectly respectable chicken kebab, I couldn't help but whisper, “This is nice, but it’s no coney.”

The ghost of my past meals haunts every booth.

I can still hear the bubbling of the chili pot. The laughter of the employees who somehow always seemed too excited about chili. I remember the laminated menu that hadn’t changed since 1994. The way the cheese never melted. It just perched on top like it was afraid of commitment. Iconic.

Skyline wasn’t just food—it was a lifestyle. A sodium-drenched, chili-splattered lifestyle.

And now? I feel like a man who came home to find his wife replaced with an entirely new person. A kind person. A smart person. Probably even a better cook. But she doesn’t know my birthday, or that I like my spaghetti a little firm. She doesn’t give me a peppermint on the way out. She’s not Skyline.

In conclusion, I wish the best to Mashawee Stop. I truly do. I hope they thrive.

But every time I drive by, I pour one out (figuratively) for Skyline Chili. You were a weird place. A greasy place. A baffling combination of spaghetti and Cincinnati pride. And dammit, I miss you.

Bring back my 3-Way, or I will 3-Way my way into therapy.

5 stars for Mashawee Stop’s effort.

0 stars for the cruel...

Terrible Customer service, I And my friend ordered for each of us separate orders, we set at the table and received one plate with a tiny portion of chicken kabob, about 80 grams, fie us to share, one small bowl of humus which they assumed we have to share, come on how can two men share humus? A shared salad! I went and spoke to the guy on the register if this meant for one of us, and he replied no, for both of you. Shame on the way you treat your customers. Anyone visiting, pay attention! Don't let restaurant trick you. Reply: Your response to the above complaints made no sense, and it didn't have an explanation of what made the restaurant think people who order from them will eat one portion together. Also for your information. I have discussed this with many friends, I noticed that you treat people differently depending on their ethnicity, or origin. Why would you make a decision based on the look and origin or language the person speaks and provide them with a shared dish if they didn't request it? Also the price is one even when you make a shared dosh, why not just prepare for every person his or her own dish? Is it cost saving? Or dishes not available at your restaurant? Trust me, what you do in your business will hurt customers if you are not meeting expectations. I came to the cashier and complained after being served one dish thinking I will get the second one. Please treat every single customer visiting your business equally without existing...

The food was undeniably delicious. Every dish we tried had bold, authentic flavors, and the chicken wings and Arayes pita/wraps stood out as favorites. The ambiance was warm and lively, with a cozy aesthetic and the familiar sounds of conversation that made the place feel inviting. As someone who speaks Arabic, it was also comforting to connect with some of the staff in my native language.

However, our overall experience was soured by how the ordering process unfolded. We were a group of four with two kids and had planned to order individual plates, but the waiter strongly encouraged us to opt for shared platters featuring a variety of meats. Unfortunately, the price of these platters wasn’t listed on the menu, and I made the mistake of not asking upfront. When the bill came, we were shocked to see the total, at $165, for a meal that left us with far more food than we could eat. It felt like we were upsold without full transparency, which left a bad taste despite the good food. The service also felt chaotic, likely due to being understaffed, and the staff, though kind, seemed overwhelmed throughout our visit.

While the flavors and certain aspects of the atmosphere were top-notch, the lack of pricing clarity and service disorganization make it unlikely that...