If you ever drove down Hickman Road in Des Moines back in the day, you knew the sign. That giant, glowing crown. It didn't just promise food; it promised a specific kind of Iowa immortality. George the Chili King wasn't just a drive-in. It was a time capsule where the grease was honest and the service came with a side of Midwestern soul.
But then, the lights went out.
George Karaidos Jr. passed away in October 2019, and the local landmark basically froze in time. Since then, fans have been scouring the internet for recipes, mourning the loss of the "Fat Man Special," and wondering if that iconic building will eventually meet a wrecking ball.
Honestly, the story of George the Chili King is about more than just a bowl of red. It's about a family dynasty that started with a five-cent bowl of chili and ended up on national television with Guy Fieri.
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The Greek Immigrant Who Became a King
The whole thing started with George Karaidos Sr. He arrived in Des Moines in 1915, a Greek immigrant with a lot of hustle. He opened a spot downtown at 7th and Mulberry. Legend has it some local reporters told him the city desperately needed a good, cheap bowl of chili.
He listened.
By 1919, he was the "Chili King." He didn't just make chili; he built a brand before people even used that word. After a brief, failed attempt at a different restaurant in the late 40s, he went back to what worked. He built a wooden shack on Euclid Avenue. Then, in 1952, the business moved to the spot everyone remembers: 5722 Hickman Road.
That’s where the magic really happened.
For 62 years, George Karaidos Jr. ran that place. Think about that. Six decades of flipping burgers, stirring pots, and watching the world change through a car window. He was a fixture. He drove a '57 Chevy Bel Air in local parades. He was the guy who stayed behind the counter while fast-food chains took over the rest of the country.
What Was the Secret? (And No, It Wasn't Just the Beans)
People always ask about the recipe. If you look online, you’ll find a dozen "authentic" versions. Some say it’s about the fat. Others swear by a specific blend of Greek spices that hints at the family’s heritage.
The real secret? Consistency.
The menu was a masterclass in "if it ain't broke, don't fix it." You had the Coney Burger. You had the handmade tenderloins—pounded on-site, the way God intended. And then there was the chili. It was thick, hearty, and usually served on top of something else.
The Guy Fieri Effect
In 2014, Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives showed up. George Jr. was a natural on camera, showing off his "fumbling, purposeful cadence," as one writer put it. Guy Fieri loved the place. It gave the restaurant a late-career surge of fame. Suddenly, people weren't just coming from Beaverdale; they were coming from all over the country to see the King.
Even Bill Bryson, the world-famous travel writer, gave the original location a shout-out in his memoir, The Life and Times of the Thunderbolt Kid. It’s rare for a local burger joint to get that kind of literary and pop-culture overlap.
The Sad Reality of 5722 Hickman Road
When George Jr. died in 2019, the community felt it. It wasn't just a business closing; it was the end of an era of car-hop service and "Graffiti Nights."
Today, the building is a bit of a ghost. The iconic sign—the one with the crown—was actually removed by a crane in early 2024. It was a gut punch for locals. The Des Moines Heritage Trust has even listed the building on its "Endangered Historic Buildings" list. It’s at risk of demolition.
There’s something uniquely depressing about a drive-in without its sign. It looks smaller. Less regal.
Can You Still Get the Chili?
Here is the good news for your stomach: the flavor isn't entirely gone. While the drive-in is closed, reports indicate that their famous chili has been served at Steer N’ Stein in West Des Moines. It’s the closest you’re going to get to that 1950s recipe without a time machine.
If you’re trying to recreate it at home, remember that George's chili was a "no-drain" situation. You cook the beef and the onions, and you keep that fat in there for the flavor. Most copycat recipes involve:
- 73/27 ground beef (the high fat content is non-negotiable)
- Tomato paste and sauce
- A heavy hand of chili powder, oregano, and paprika
- A hint of allspice (the secret Greek connection)
Why We Should Care
We’re losing these "third places." You know, the spots that aren't home and aren't work, but where everyone knows your name—or at least your car. George the Chili King represented a time when a business was a person, not a corporation.
It was messy. Some people complained about the bathrooms. Some thought it was a "dive." But it was their dive.
The building might be empty, and the sign might be in storage, but the "King" still holds a weirdly specific throne in Iowa history. It reminds us that sometimes, all you need to build a legacy is a good recipe and the stubbornness to stay in one place for sixty years.
How to Honor the King Today
If you want to keep the spirit of George the Chili King alive, stop looking for the "best" new franchise. Find a local, family-owned diner that's been around since before you were born. Order the messiest thing on the menu. Support the places that still pound their own tenderloins.
You can also check out the Des Moines Heritage Trust to see how they are working to preserve local landmarks. They are the ones fighting to make sure these pieces of history don't just become another parking lot or a generic strip mall.
The King is gone, but the recipe for community—good food, a bit of grease, and a lot of heart—is still out there if you know where to look.