Restaurant with ‘World Famous’ sign internationally known for being awful

When walking into a beloved small-town restaurant or along any busy city street, chances are that the term "world famous" will pop up. Just about everyone brushes this off given that there's no way seven billion people are aware of someone's uncle making a mean burger or a mom-and-pop shop in Kalamazoo's outstanding pastries.

Chuck's Italiano is the lone exception, but not for the expected reason – the restaurant is internationally known for being bad.

The Wooster, Ohio Italian joint has been in business since 1997, when owner and namesake Chuck Henson decided to try his hand at boiling some water.

"Once my kids were old enough to go to school and my wife went back to work at a job with 60 hour weeks, there was no one there to make dinner for me for the first time in my life. So I figured that if I had to start making food myself, I might as well try to profit somehow," remembers Henson.

From there, Chuck's Italiano was born. Nestled near Wooster's quaint downtown, but far enough away that there's often used needles and broken glass by the entrance, the spot has been home to plenty of pizza parties and spaghetti dinners in its 27-year history – but nobody goes more than once unless it's to prove to others how bad the food is.

"I went here after a soccer game when I was six and to this day, it's by far the worst pizza I've ever had," said one-time customer Michael Stabler. "It was like they wanted to make sure that the ingredients could also be used to build a house."

The legend of Chuck's has spanned overseas, with individuals everywhere from China to Argentina catching wind of the Midwest establishment.

"I heard that they put whole maggots in the gnocchi because they're all over the kitchen and look similar enough," said Beijing's Ái Wú. "And if you order it, they both taste the same."

The food's reputation isn't any better in Switzerland.

"They use algae from the fish tank to make the pesto. They also clean the tank as often as the kitchen, which means it's scraped out every six months," said Bern's Dario Schmid. "Then they serve the decaying fish as a Friday special during Lent."

When asked about whether the many globe-spanning rumors are true, Henson replied "It's not for me to say" while emphatically nodding his head.

And for good reason. While there is the occasional unaware first-time diner, most travel to the restaurant simply to be able to say they survived the experience – something not everyone who walks through the permanently boarded up doors can do.

"When we were planning our trip, everyone told us to visit Los Angeles or New York City, but it was very important for us to go to Ohio — we had to see if what we heard was true," said Bianca Canevari alongside her husband, Gianni, both of whom are from the Italian region of Lazio. "My god, it was like a haunted house. As soon as we left, we lit some prayer candles and made fresh ravioli with a sprinkle of freshly grated parmesan in our hotel room. I'm eternally grateful to have brought a hot plate lest I be smite by my dearly departed ancestors."

There's plenty of adjustments Chuck's Italiano could make to improve their reputation — using tomatoes instead of red paintballs, for starters. But with plenty of customers leaving with satisfied curiosity and a fitting stomachache, Chuck Henson's restaurant is sure to stay in business long enough for his eventual lifeless body to become an ingredient.

----------------

Photo courtesy of quinn.anya via CC BY-SA 2/0