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The 10 Best Cheesesteaks in Philadelphia

The 10 Best Cheesesteaks in Philadelphia


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The cheesesteak is one of those perfect foods. If there’s one city that’s synonymous with this legendary sandwich, it’s Philadelphia, so we tracked down the 10 best spots in the city to get your hands on one.

The 10 Best Cheesesteaks in Philadelphia (Slideshow)

A cheesesteak is more than just a sandwich, and it has a lot more variations that you might realize. While the vast majority of shops use thin-sliced ribeye, some use top round and other cuts, and one popular shop will even let you upgrade to filet mignon tips. As for cheese, canned Cheez Whiz is the most popular option, but you can also usually get American, provolone, and occasionally mozzarella and other cheeses. The only vegetable that graces most cheesesteaks is diced onion, but peppers, mushrooms, and even lettuce and tomato are occasionally present. Pizza steak, with mozzarella and marinara sauce, is another common option.

While there’s still some debate about who actually invented the cheesesteak, legend has it that brothers Pat and Harry Oliveri created a sandwich made with chopped steak and grilled onions for their Philadelphia hot dog stand in the early 1930s. Pat went on to open an eponymous shop selling the famous sandwich (which originally had no cheese), and when a manager named Joe Lorenza added provolone to it one day it caught on like wildfire.

In order to assemble our list, we started by doing due diligence, combing through existing rankings both in print and online to supplement our editorial team’s personal experiences. (One of the first things you’ll find is that several shops are on just about every list.) We then reviewed and cross-referenced rankings on several popular review sites and consulted with Philadelphia natives. The end result is a list of shops that are worthy of some serious praise.

While today cheesesteaks can be found at hundreds, if not thousands, of restaurants across the country, just like bagels in New York, there’s something about a cheesesteak in Philadelphia that makes it better than anywhere else. A great Philly cheesesteak needs to be on a roll from a local bakery like Amoroso or Liscio’s, the cheese needs to be completely melted and well-incorporated in the sandwich, and while the meat should be thin it shouldn’t be dry.

But not all cheesesteak shops in Philadelphia are created equal; read on for 10 that really stand out from the pack. And whatever you do, don’t call it a Philly cheesesteak in Philadelphia!


On the intersection of South Ninth Street, Wharton Street, and East Passyunk Avenue in South Philadelphia are two cheesesteak giants: Pat’s and Geno’s. They both have a fiercely loyal clientele, each of which will tell you that their favorite is superior. Pat’s claims to have invented the cheesesteak as we know it: As the story goes, in May 1933 brothers Pat and Harry Olivieri, who owned a hot dog stand on the corner, thinly sliced a steak and fried it with onions, and a legend was born.

Pat’s and Geno’s serve a similar product (with both using thinly sliced ribeye steak), but there’s one main difference: Pat’s chops up its meat while it’s on the grill, and Geno’s keeps its slices whole. Which one you order comes down to personal preference, but the only way to find out is to try them both. Just make sure you learn the lingo first — “wit” means with onions, “wit-out” means without onions — and know which kind of cheese you want (Cheez Whiz, provolone, American, mozzarella, or none) before you start your order.


Holding down the corner with longtime rival Pat’s, Geno’s Steaks was founded in 1966 by Joey Vento, who was a regular fixture there until he passed away in 2011 (His son, Geno, who was named after the restaurant, now runs it). The walls and even the roof are decorated with memorabilia and framed photos of celebrities who have dined there, and the seating areas are utilitarian at best, but really, it’s all about the cheesesteak.

As opposed to Pat’s, where thin-sliced ribeye is chopped up on the grill, at Geno’s the sliced steak stays whole. Vento was always in favor of provolone, but you get your choice of Cheez Whiz, provolone, or American. You can also order a pepper, mushroom, or pizza steak, or a roast pork sandwich. Save the roast pork for the third or fourth visit, though; a cheesesteak from Geno’s, whether it’s with onions or without, or with provolone or Whiz, is something that every Philly visitor should experience.


Philadelphia: Fantastic Cheesesteak From Dalessandro's Steaks & Hoagies

I consider myself a Bostonian in spirit and can easily pass myself off as a real New Yorker, but one thing I'm definitely not is a Philadelphian. So as something that can inspire heated debate even amongst fellow Brotherly Lovers, I'm very wary about weighing in with my decidedly outsider's opinion of Philadelphia's most famous sandwich, the cheesesteak.

Ask the people of Philadelphia who makes the best cheesesteak and you're bound to hear the names Geno's and Pat's thrown around. The catty-corner rivalry between two of the oldest cheesesteak shops in the city gets talked about perhaps more than any other restaurant rivalry in the country. And both of them make a great cheesesteak.

Properly thin-sliced ribeye griddled, lightly chopped with spatulas, bound with Cheez Whiz or provolone, and piled into a toasty hoagie roll.

The thing is, as an outsider, not having grown up with cheesesteaks, I visited both restaurants several times through the years, and each time, I came away thinking, "huh, that's it?" I mean, don't get me wrong—they were tasty, but I could never shake the voice in the back of my head that kept telling me you should have had a burger instead.

It wasn't until SE correspondent Liz Bomze, a Philadelphia native, pointed me to Dalessandro's Steaks & Hoagies in Roxborough that it finally clicked. Oh that's what all the fuss is about.

Here's what she has to say about Dalessandro's:

I didn't start going there because I knew it was any better than the other steak joints around town I just went with my friends because it was close to our high school. (I guess I've been going there for about 15 years. Yikes.) Eventually, I realized it was way better than the fussed-over places like Pat's and Geno's. I used to love watch the griddle guy chop up the meat with the flat metal spatula and work in the cheese so that it melted evenly it made waiting for the food pretty enjoyable (as did eating hot peppers out of the condiment bin).

At Dalessandro's, they start with the same thinly shaved, super beefy ribeye, but rather than giving it the few cursory chops with a spatula you get at Pat's or Geno's, the griddle cooks absolutely demolish the beef, cutting and cutting and cutting until it can be cut no more. The end result is something vaguely resembling a Maid-Rite loosemeat sandwich. Finely chopped, nearly crumbled beef that sits slowly browning in its own fat and juices on a lightly greased, well-worn flat-top.

Don't order a plain beef sandwich here (does anyone ever order a cheesesteak without cheese?). The crumbled beef needs the fatty, binding capabilities of melted provolone to live up to their full potential. And what glorious living it is!

You won't find massive amounts of stringy, drippy cheese in these hoagies. Rather, the cheese acts as a subtle binder, adding just enough sharpness and fat to bring out the beefy, well-browned flavors of the meat. It all gets shoved into crusty buns from Amoroso's (a virtual a prerequisite for any decent Philadelphia hoagie).

Grilled onions, mushrooms, and peppers are available on request, but are largely unnecessary. Instead, finish the sandwich with your choice of a half dozen different varieties of pickled or roasted peppers from their well-stocked bar. I like the spicy-tart hot pepper relish best.

Is this the best cheesesteak in Philadelphia? I have no idea. I can say for certain that it's the best one I've had.


Philadelphia: Fantastic Cheesesteak From Dalessandro's Steaks & Hoagies

I consider myself a Bostonian in spirit and can easily pass myself off as a real New Yorker, but one thing I'm definitely not is a Philadelphian. So as something that can inspire heated debate even amongst fellow Brotherly Lovers, I'm very wary about weighing in with my decidedly outsider's opinion of Philadelphia's most famous sandwich, the cheesesteak.

Ask the people of Philadelphia who makes the best cheesesteak and you're bound to hear the names Geno's and Pat's thrown around. The catty-corner rivalry between two of the oldest cheesesteak shops in the city gets talked about perhaps more than any other restaurant rivalry in the country. And both of them make a great cheesesteak.

Properly thin-sliced ribeye griddled, lightly chopped with spatulas, bound with Cheez Whiz or provolone, and piled into a toasty hoagie roll.

The thing is, as an outsider, not having grown up with cheesesteaks, I visited both restaurants several times through the years, and each time, I came away thinking, "huh, that's it?" I mean, don't get me wrong—they were tasty, but I could never shake the voice in the back of my head that kept telling me you should have had a burger instead.

It wasn't until SE correspondent Liz Bomze, a Philadelphia native, pointed me to Dalessandro's Steaks & Hoagies in Roxborough that it finally clicked. Oh that's what all the fuss is about.

Here's what she has to say about Dalessandro's:

I didn't start going there because I knew it was any better than the other steak joints around town I just went with my friends because it was close to our high school. (I guess I've been going there for about 15 years. Yikes.) Eventually, I realized it was way better than the fussed-over places like Pat's and Geno's. I used to love watch the griddle guy chop up the meat with the flat metal spatula and work in the cheese so that it melted evenly it made waiting for the food pretty enjoyable (as did eating hot peppers out of the condiment bin).

At Dalessandro's, they start with the same thinly shaved, super beefy ribeye, but rather than giving it the few cursory chops with a spatula you get at Pat's or Geno's, the griddle cooks absolutely demolish the beef, cutting and cutting and cutting until it can be cut no more. The end result is something vaguely resembling a Maid-Rite loosemeat sandwich. Finely chopped, nearly crumbled beef that sits slowly browning in its own fat and juices on a lightly greased, well-worn flat-top.

Don't order a plain beef sandwich here (does anyone ever order a cheesesteak without cheese?). The crumbled beef needs the fatty, binding capabilities of melted provolone to live up to their full potential. And what glorious living it is!

You won't find massive amounts of stringy, drippy cheese in these hoagies. Rather, the cheese acts as a subtle binder, adding just enough sharpness and fat to bring out the beefy, well-browned flavors of the meat. It all gets shoved into crusty buns from Amoroso's (a virtual a prerequisite for any decent Philadelphia hoagie).

Grilled onions, mushrooms, and peppers are available on request, but are largely unnecessary. Instead, finish the sandwich with your choice of a half dozen different varieties of pickled or roasted peppers from their well-stocked bar. I like the spicy-tart hot pepper relish best.

Is this the best cheesesteak in Philadelphia? I have no idea. I can say for certain that it's the best one I've had.


Philadelphia: Fantastic Cheesesteak From Dalessandro's Steaks & Hoagies

I consider myself a Bostonian in spirit and can easily pass myself off as a real New Yorker, but one thing I'm definitely not is a Philadelphian. So as something that can inspire heated debate even amongst fellow Brotherly Lovers, I'm very wary about weighing in with my decidedly outsider's opinion of Philadelphia's most famous sandwich, the cheesesteak.

Ask the people of Philadelphia who makes the best cheesesteak and you're bound to hear the names Geno's and Pat's thrown around. The catty-corner rivalry between two of the oldest cheesesteak shops in the city gets talked about perhaps more than any other restaurant rivalry in the country. And both of them make a great cheesesteak.

Properly thin-sliced ribeye griddled, lightly chopped with spatulas, bound with Cheez Whiz or provolone, and piled into a toasty hoagie roll.

The thing is, as an outsider, not having grown up with cheesesteaks, I visited both restaurants several times through the years, and each time, I came away thinking, "huh, that's it?" I mean, don't get me wrong—they were tasty, but I could never shake the voice in the back of my head that kept telling me you should have had a burger instead.

It wasn't until SE correspondent Liz Bomze, a Philadelphia native, pointed me to Dalessandro's Steaks & Hoagies in Roxborough that it finally clicked. Oh that's what all the fuss is about.

Here's what she has to say about Dalessandro's:

I didn't start going there because I knew it was any better than the other steak joints around town I just went with my friends because it was close to our high school. (I guess I've been going there for about 15 years. Yikes.) Eventually, I realized it was way better than the fussed-over places like Pat's and Geno's. I used to love watch the griddle guy chop up the meat with the flat metal spatula and work in the cheese so that it melted evenly it made waiting for the food pretty enjoyable (as did eating hot peppers out of the condiment bin).

At Dalessandro's, they start with the same thinly shaved, super beefy ribeye, but rather than giving it the few cursory chops with a spatula you get at Pat's or Geno's, the griddle cooks absolutely demolish the beef, cutting and cutting and cutting until it can be cut no more. The end result is something vaguely resembling a Maid-Rite loosemeat sandwich. Finely chopped, nearly crumbled beef that sits slowly browning in its own fat and juices on a lightly greased, well-worn flat-top.

Don't order a plain beef sandwich here (does anyone ever order a cheesesteak without cheese?). The crumbled beef needs the fatty, binding capabilities of melted provolone to live up to their full potential. And what glorious living it is!

You won't find massive amounts of stringy, drippy cheese in these hoagies. Rather, the cheese acts as a subtle binder, adding just enough sharpness and fat to bring out the beefy, well-browned flavors of the meat. It all gets shoved into crusty buns from Amoroso's (a virtual a prerequisite for any decent Philadelphia hoagie).

Grilled onions, mushrooms, and peppers are available on request, but are largely unnecessary. Instead, finish the sandwich with your choice of a half dozen different varieties of pickled or roasted peppers from their well-stocked bar. I like the spicy-tart hot pepper relish best.

Is this the best cheesesteak in Philadelphia? I have no idea. I can say for certain that it's the best one I've had.


Philadelphia: Fantastic Cheesesteak From Dalessandro's Steaks & Hoagies

I consider myself a Bostonian in spirit and can easily pass myself off as a real New Yorker, but one thing I'm definitely not is a Philadelphian. So as something that can inspire heated debate even amongst fellow Brotherly Lovers, I'm very wary about weighing in with my decidedly outsider's opinion of Philadelphia's most famous sandwich, the cheesesteak.

Ask the people of Philadelphia who makes the best cheesesteak and you're bound to hear the names Geno's and Pat's thrown around. The catty-corner rivalry between two of the oldest cheesesteak shops in the city gets talked about perhaps more than any other restaurant rivalry in the country. And both of them make a great cheesesteak.

Properly thin-sliced ribeye griddled, lightly chopped with spatulas, bound with Cheez Whiz or provolone, and piled into a toasty hoagie roll.

The thing is, as an outsider, not having grown up with cheesesteaks, I visited both restaurants several times through the years, and each time, I came away thinking, "huh, that's it?" I mean, don't get me wrong—they were tasty, but I could never shake the voice in the back of my head that kept telling me you should have had a burger instead.

It wasn't until SE correspondent Liz Bomze, a Philadelphia native, pointed me to Dalessandro's Steaks & Hoagies in Roxborough that it finally clicked. Oh that's what all the fuss is about.

Here's what she has to say about Dalessandro's:

I didn't start going there because I knew it was any better than the other steak joints around town I just went with my friends because it was close to our high school. (I guess I've been going there for about 15 years. Yikes.) Eventually, I realized it was way better than the fussed-over places like Pat's and Geno's. I used to love watch the griddle guy chop up the meat with the flat metal spatula and work in the cheese so that it melted evenly it made waiting for the food pretty enjoyable (as did eating hot peppers out of the condiment bin).

At Dalessandro's, they start with the same thinly shaved, super beefy ribeye, but rather than giving it the few cursory chops with a spatula you get at Pat's or Geno's, the griddle cooks absolutely demolish the beef, cutting and cutting and cutting until it can be cut no more. The end result is something vaguely resembling a Maid-Rite loosemeat sandwich. Finely chopped, nearly crumbled beef that sits slowly browning in its own fat and juices on a lightly greased, well-worn flat-top.

Don't order a plain beef sandwich here (does anyone ever order a cheesesteak without cheese?). The crumbled beef needs the fatty, binding capabilities of melted provolone to live up to their full potential. And what glorious living it is!

You won't find massive amounts of stringy, drippy cheese in these hoagies. Rather, the cheese acts as a subtle binder, adding just enough sharpness and fat to bring out the beefy, well-browned flavors of the meat. It all gets shoved into crusty buns from Amoroso's (a virtual a prerequisite for any decent Philadelphia hoagie).

Grilled onions, mushrooms, and peppers are available on request, but are largely unnecessary. Instead, finish the sandwich with your choice of a half dozen different varieties of pickled or roasted peppers from their well-stocked bar. I like the spicy-tart hot pepper relish best.

Is this the best cheesesteak in Philadelphia? I have no idea. I can say for certain that it's the best one I've had.


Philadelphia: Fantastic Cheesesteak From Dalessandro's Steaks & Hoagies

I consider myself a Bostonian in spirit and can easily pass myself off as a real New Yorker, but one thing I'm definitely not is a Philadelphian. So as something that can inspire heated debate even amongst fellow Brotherly Lovers, I'm very wary about weighing in with my decidedly outsider's opinion of Philadelphia's most famous sandwich, the cheesesteak.

Ask the people of Philadelphia who makes the best cheesesteak and you're bound to hear the names Geno's and Pat's thrown around. The catty-corner rivalry between two of the oldest cheesesteak shops in the city gets talked about perhaps more than any other restaurant rivalry in the country. And both of them make a great cheesesteak.

Properly thin-sliced ribeye griddled, lightly chopped with spatulas, bound with Cheez Whiz or provolone, and piled into a toasty hoagie roll.

The thing is, as an outsider, not having grown up with cheesesteaks, I visited both restaurants several times through the years, and each time, I came away thinking, "huh, that's it?" I mean, don't get me wrong—they were tasty, but I could never shake the voice in the back of my head that kept telling me you should have had a burger instead.

It wasn't until SE correspondent Liz Bomze, a Philadelphia native, pointed me to Dalessandro's Steaks & Hoagies in Roxborough that it finally clicked. Oh that's what all the fuss is about.

Here's what she has to say about Dalessandro's:

I didn't start going there because I knew it was any better than the other steak joints around town I just went with my friends because it was close to our high school. (I guess I've been going there for about 15 years. Yikes.) Eventually, I realized it was way better than the fussed-over places like Pat's and Geno's. I used to love watch the griddle guy chop up the meat with the flat metal spatula and work in the cheese so that it melted evenly it made waiting for the food pretty enjoyable (as did eating hot peppers out of the condiment bin).

At Dalessandro's, they start with the same thinly shaved, super beefy ribeye, but rather than giving it the few cursory chops with a spatula you get at Pat's or Geno's, the griddle cooks absolutely demolish the beef, cutting and cutting and cutting until it can be cut no more. The end result is something vaguely resembling a Maid-Rite loosemeat sandwich. Finely chopped, nearly crumbled beef that sits slowly browning in its own fat and juices on a lightly greased, well-worn flat-top.

Don't order a plain beef sandwich here (does anyone ever order a cheesesteak without cheese?). The crumbled beef needs the fatty, binding capabilities of melted provolone to live up to their full potential. And what glorious living it is!

You won't find massive amounts of stringy, drippy cheese in these hoagies. Rather, the cheese acts as a subtle binder, adding just enough sharpness and fat to bring out the beefy, well-browned flavors of the meat. It all gets shoved into crusty buns from Amoroso's (a virtual a prerequisite for any decent Philadelphia hoagie).

Grilled onions, mushrooms, and peppers are available on request, but are largely unnecessary. Instead, finish the sandwich with your choice of a half dozen different varieties of pickled or roasted peppers from their well-stocked bar. I like the spicy-tart hot pepper relish best.

Is this the best cheesesteak in Philadelphia? I have no idea. I can say for certain that it's the best one I've had.


Philadelphia: Fantastic Cheesesteak From Dalessandro's Steaks & Hoagies

I consider myself a Bostonian in spirit and can easily pass myself off as a real New Yorker, but one thing I'm definitely not is a Philadelphian. So as something that can inspire heated debate even amongst fellow Brotherly Lovers, I'm very wary about weighing in with my decidedly outsider's opinion of Philadelphia's most famous sandwich, the cheesesteak.

Ask the people of Philadelphia who makes the best cheesesteak and you're bound to hear the names Geno's and Pat's thrown around. The catty-corner rivalry between two of the oldest cheesesteak shops in the city gets talked about perhaps more than any other restaurant rivalry in the country. And both of them make a great cheesesteak.

Properly thin-sliced ribeye griddled, lightly chopped with spatulas, bound with Cheez Whiz or provolone, and piled into a toasty hoagie roll.

The thing is, as an outsider, not having grown up with cheesesteaks, I visited both restaurants several times through the years, and each time, I came away thinking, "huh, that's it?" I mean, don't get me wrong—they were tasty, but I could never shake the voice in the back of my head that kept telling me you should have had a burger instead.

It wasn't until SE correspondent Liz Bomze, a Philadelphia native, pointed me to Dalessandro's Steaks & Hoagies in Roxborough that it finally clicked. Oh that's what all the fuss is about.

Here's what she has to say about Dalessandro's:

I didn't start going there because I knew it was any better than the other steak joints around town I just went with my friends because it was close to our high school. (I guess I've been going there for about 15 years. Yikes.) Eventually, I realized it was way better than the fussed-over places like Pat's and Geno's. I used to love watch the griddle guy chop up the meat with the flat metal spatula and work in the cheese so that it melted evenly it made waiting for the food pretty enjoyable (as did eating hot peppers out of the condiment bin).

At Dalessandro's, they start with the same thinly shaved, super beefy ribeye, but rather than giving it the few cursory chops with a spatula you get at Pat's or Geno's, the griddle cooks absolutely demolish the beef, cutting and cutting and cutting until it can be cut no more. The end result is something vaguely resembling a Maid-Rite loosemeat sandwich. Finely chopped, nearly crumbled beef that sits slowly browning in its own fat and juices on a lightly greased, well-worn flat-top.

Don't order a plain beef sandwich here (does anyone ever order a cheesesteak without cheese?). The crumbled beef needs the fatty, binding capabilities of melted provolone to live up to their full potential. And what glorious living it is!

You won't find massive amounts of stringy, drippy cheese in these hoagies. Rather, the cheese acts as a subtle binder, adding just enough sharpness and fat to bring out the beefy, well-browned flavors of the meat. It all gets shoved into crusty buns from Amoroso's (a virtual a prerequisite for any decent Philadelphia hoagie).

Grilled onions, mushrooms, and peppers are available on request, but are largely unnecessary. Instead, finish the sandwich with your choice of a half dozen different varieties of pickled or roasted peppers from their well-stocked bar. I like the spicy-tart hot pepper relish best.

Is this the best cheesesteak in Philadelphia? I have no idea. I can say for certain that it's the best one I've had.


Philadelphia: Fantastic Cheesesteak From Dalessandro's Steaks & Hoagies

I consider myself a Bostonian in spirit and can easily pass myself off as a real New Yorker, but one thing I'm definitely not is a Philadelphian. So as something that can inspire heated debate even amongst fellow Brotherly Lovers, I'm very wary about weighing in with my decidedly outsider's opinion of Philadelphia's most famous sandwich, the cheesesteak.

Ask the people of Philadelphia who makes the best cheesesteak and you're bound to hear the names Geno's and Pat's thrown around. The catty-corner rivalry between two of the oldest cheesesteak shops in the city gets talked about perhaps more than any other restaurant rivalry in the country. And both of them make a great cheesesteak.

Properly thin-sliced ribeye griddled, lightly chopped with spatulas, bound with Cheez Whiz or provolone, and piled into a toasty hoagie roll.

The thing is, as an outsider, not having grown up with cheesesteaks, I visited both restaurants several times through the years, and each time, I came away thinking, "huh, that's it?" I mean, don't get me wrong—they were tasty, but I could never shake the voice in the back of my head that kept telling me you should have had a burger instead.

It wasn't until SE correspondent Liz Bomze, a Philadelphia native, pointed me to Dalessandro's Steaks & Hoagies in Roxborough that it finally clicked. Oh that's what all the fuss is about.

Here's what she has to say about Dalessandro's:

I didn't start going there because I knew it was any better than the other steak joints around town I just went with my friends because it was close to our high school. (I guess I've been going there for about 15 years. Yikes.) Eventually, I realized it was way better than the fussed-over places like Pat's and Geno's. I used to love watch the griddle guy chop up the meat with the flat metal spatula and work in the cheese so that it melted evenly it made waiting for the food pretty enjoyable (as did eating hot peppers out of the condiment bin).

At Dalessandro's, they start with the same thinly shaved, super beefy ribeye, but rather than giving it the few cursory chops with a spatula you get at Pat's or Geno's, the griddle cooks absolutely demolish the beef, cutting and cutting and cutting until it can be cut no more. The end result is something vaguely resembling a Maid-Rite loosemeat sandwich. Finely chopped, nearly crumbled beef that sits slowly browning in its own fat and juices on a lightly greased, well-worn flat-top.

Don't order a plain beef sandwich here (does anyone ever order a cheesesteak without cheese?). The crumbled beef needs the fatty, binding capabilities of melted provolone to live up to their full potential. And what glorious living it is!

You won't find massive amounts of stringy, drippy cheese in these hoagies. Rather, the cheese acts as a subtle binder, adding just enough sharpness and fat to bring out the beefy, well-browned flavors of the meat. It all gets shoved into crusty buns from Amoroso's (a virtual a prerequisite for any decent Philadelphia hoagie).

Grilled onions, mushrooms, and peppers are available on request, but are largely unnecessary. Instead, finish the sandwich with your choice of a half dozen different varieties of pickled or roasted peppers from their well-stocked bar. I like the spicy-tart hot pepper relish best.

Is this the best cheesesteak in Philadelphia? I have no idea. I can say for certain that it's the best one I've had.


Philadelphia: Fantastic Cheesesteak From Dalessandro's Steaks & Hoagies

I consider myself a Bostonian in spirit and can easily pass myself off as a real New Yorker, but one thing I'm definitely not is a Philadelphian. So as something that can inspire heated debate even amongst fellow Brotherly Lovers, I'm very wary about weighing in with my decidedly outsider's opinion of Philadelphia's most famous sandwich, the cheesesteak.

Ask the people of Philadelphia who makes the best cheesesteak and you're bound to hear the names Geno's and Pat's thrown around. The catty-corner rivalry between two of the oldest cheesesteak shops in the city gets talked about perhaps more than any other restaurant rivalry in the country. And both of them make a great cheesesteak.

Properly thin-sliced ribeye griddled, lightly chopped with spatulas, bound with Cheez Whiz or provolone, and piled into a toasty hoagie roll.

The thing is, as an outsider, not having grown up with cheesesteaks, I visited both restaurants several times through the years, and each time, I came away thinking, "huh, that's it?" I mean, don't get me wrong—they were tasty, but I could never shake the voice in the back of my head that kept telling me you should have had a burger instead.

It wasn't until SE correspondent Liz Bomze, a Philadelphia native, pointed me to Dalessandro's Steaks & Hoagies in Roxborough that it finally clicked. Oh that's what all the fuss is about.

Here's what she has to say about Dalessandro's:

I didn't start going there because I knew it was any better than the other steak joints around town I just went with my friends because it was close to our high school. (I guess I've been going there for about 15 years. Yikes.) Eventually, I realized it was way better than the fussed-over places like Pat's and Geno's. I used to love watch the griddle guy chop up the meat with the flat metal spatula and work in the cheese so that it melted evenly it made waiting for the food pretty enjoyable (as did eating hot peppers out of the condiment bin).

At Dalessandro's, they start with the same thinly shaved, super beefy ribeye, but rather than giving it the few cursory chops with a spatula you get at Pat's or Geno's, the griddle cooks absolutely demolish the beef, cutting and cutting and cutting until it can be cut no more. The end result is something vaguely resembling a Maid-Rite loosemeat sandwich. Finely chopped, nearly crumbled beef that sits slowly browning in its own fat and juices on a lightly greased, well-worn flat-top.

Don't order a plain beef sandwich here (does anyone ever order a cheesesteak without cheese?). The crumbled beef needs the fatty, binding capabilities of melted provolone to live up to their full potential. And what glorious living it is!

You won't find massive amounts of stringy, drippy cheese in these hoagies. Rather, the cheese acts as a subtle binder, adding just enough sharpness and fat to bring out the beefy, well-browned flavors of the meat. It all gets shoved into crusty buns from Amoroso's (a virtual a prerequisite for any decent Philadelphia hoagie).

Grilled onions, mushrooms, and peppers are available on request, but are largely unnecessary. Instead, finish the sandwich with your choice of a half dozen different varieties of pickled or roasted peppers from their well-stocked bar. I like the spicy-tart hot pepper relish best.

Is this the best cheesesteak in Philadelphia? I have no idea. I can say for certain that it's the best one I've had.


Philadelphia: Fantastic Cheesesteak From Dalessandro's Steaks & Hoagies

I consider myself a Bostonian in spirit and can easily pass myself off as a real New Yorker, but one thing I'm definitely not is a Philadelphian. So as something that can inspire heated debate even amongst fellow Brotherly Lovers, I'm very wary about weighing in with my decidedly outsider's opinion of Philadelphia's most famous sandwich, the cheesesteak.

Ask the people of Philadelphia who makes the best cheesesteak and you're bound to hear the names Geno's and Pat's thrown around. The catty-corner rivalry between two of the oldest cheesesteak shops in the city gets talked about perhaps more than any other restaurant rivalry in the country. And both of them make a great cheesesteak.

Properly thin-sliced ribeye griddled, lightly chopped with spatulas, bound with Cheez Whiz or provolone, and piled into a toasty hoagie roll.

The thing is, as an outsider, not having grown up with cheesesteaks, I visited both restaurants several times through the years, and each time, I came away thinking, "huh, that's it?" I mean, don't get me wrong—they were tasty, but I could never shake the voice in the back of my head that kept telling me you should have had a burger instead.

It wasn't until SE correspondent Liz Bomze, a Philadelphia native, pointed me to Dalessandro's Steaks & Hoagies in Roxborough that it finally clicked. Oh that's what all the fuss is about.

Here's what she has to say about Dalessandro's:

I didn't start going there because I knew it was any better than the other steak joints around town I just went with my friends because it was close to our high school. (I guess I've been going there for about 15 years. Yikes.) Eventually, I realized it was way better than the fussed-over places like Pat's and Geno's. I used to love watch the griddle guy chop up the meat with the flat metal spatula and work in the cheese so that it melted evenly it made waiting for the food pretty enjoyable (as did eating hot peppers out of the condiment bin).

At Dalessandro's, they start with the same thinly shaved, super beefy ribeye, but rather than giving it the few cursory chops with a spatula you get at Pat's or Geno's, the griddle cooks absolutely demolish the beef, cutting and cutting and cutting until it can be cut no more. The end result is something vaguely resembling a Maid-Rite loosemeat sandwich. Finely chopped, nearly crumbled beef that sits slowly browning in its own fat and juices on a lightly greased, well-worn flat-top.

Don't order a plain beef sandwich here (does anyone ever order a cheesesteak without cheese?). The crumbled beef needs the fatty, binding capabilities of melted provolone to live up to their full potential. And what glorious living it is!

You won't find massive amounts of stringy, drippy cheese in these hoagies. Rather, the cheese acts as a subtle binder, adding just enough sharpness and fat to bring out the beefy, well-browned flavors of the meat. It all gets shoved into crusty buns from Amoroso's (a virtual a prerequisite for any decent Philadelphia hoagie).

Grilled onions, mushrooms, and peppers are available on request, but are largely unnecessary. Instead, finish the sandwich with your choice of a half dozen different varieties of pickled or roasted peppers from their well-stocked bar. I like the spicy-tart hot pepper relish best.

Is this the best cheesesteak in Philadelphia? I have no idea. I can say for certain that it's the best one I've had.


Philadelphia: Fantastic Cheesesteak From Dalessandro's Steaks & Hoagies

I consider myself a Bostonian in spirit and can easily pass myself off as a real New Yorker, but one thing I'm definitely not is a Philadelphian. So as something that can inspire heated debate even amongst fellow Brotherly Lovers, I'm very wary about weighing in with my decidedly outsider's opinion of Philadelphia's most famous sandwich, the cheesesteak.

Ask the people of Philadelphia who makes the best cheesesteak and you're bound to hear the names Geno's and Pat's thrown around. The catty-corner rivalry between two of the oldest cheesesteak shops in the city gets talked about perhaps more than any other restaurant rivalry in the country. And both of them make a great cheesesteak.

Properly thin-sliced ribeye griddled, lightly chopped with spatulas, bound with Cheez Whiz or provolone, and piled into a toasty hoagie roll.

The thing is, as an outsider, not having grown up with cheesesteaks, I visited both restaurants several times through the years, and each time, I came away thinking, "huh, that's it?" I mean, don't get me wrong—they were tasty, but I could never shake the voice in the back of my head that kept telling me you should have had a burger instead.

It wasn't until SE correspondent Liz Bomze, a Philadelphia native, pointed me to Dalessandro's Steaks & Hoagies in Roxborough that it finally clicked. Oh that's what all the fuss is about.

Here's what she has to say about Dalessandro's:

I didn't start going there because I knew it was any better than the other steak joints around town I just went with my friends because it was close to our high school. (I guess I've been going there for about 15 years. Yikes.) Eventually, I realized it was way better than the fussed-over places like Pat's and Geno's. I used to love watch the griddle guy chop up the meat with the flat metal spatula and work in the cheese so that it melted evenly it made waiting for the food pretty enjoyable (as did eating hot peppers out of the condiment bin).

At Dalessandro's, they start with the same thinly shaved, super beefy ribeye, but rather than giving it the few cursory chops with a spatula you get at Pat's or Geno's, the griddle cooks absolutely demolish the beef, cutting and cutting and cutting until it can be cut no more. The end result is something vaguely resembling a Maid-Rite loosemeat sandwich. Finely chopped, nearly crumbled beef that sits slowly browning in its own fat and juices on a lightly greased, well-worn flat-top.

Don't order a plain beef sandwich here (does anyone ever order a cheesesteak without cheese?). The crumbled beef needs the fatty, binding capabilities of melted provolone to live up to their full potential. And what glorious living it is!

You won't find massive amounts of stringy, drippy cheese in these hoagies. Rather, the cheese acts as a subtle binder, adding just enough sharpness and fat to bring out the beefy, well-browned flavors of the meat. It all gets shoved into crusty buns from Amoroso's (a virtual a prerequisite for any decent Philadelphia hoagie).

Grilled onions, mushrooms, and peppers are available on request, but are largely unnecessary. Instead, finish the sandwich with your choice of a half dozen different varieties of pickled or roasted peppers from their well-stocked bar. I like the spicy-tart hot pepper relish best.

Is this the best cheesesteak in Philadelphia? I have no idea. I can say for certain that it's the best one I've had.


Watch the video: How to create the perfect Philly cheesesteak (June 2022).


Comments:

  1. Home

    I can't take part in the discussion right now - I'm very busy. I'll be back - I will definitely express my opinion.

  2. Ramsey

    I can look for reference on the website where there are many articles on this question.

  3. Suidhne

    you said that correctly :)

  4. Stewert

    Consider not very well?

  5. Dobi

    I absolutely agree with you. I like your idea. I propose to bring it up for general discussion.

  6. Akilkree

    Follow the pulse of the blogosphere on Yandex Blogs? It turns out that Sosa-Sola has revealed her secret ingredient! These are worms :)



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