There’s a good reason this post didn’t go up until almost 10 pm, and it’s not because I’ve suddenly decided sleep is way passé and too boring for the likes of me.
I blame the baby.
I was minding my own business at work when a Craving came over me. Not a passing-fancy oh-a-brownie-sure-would-be-swell-right-about-now craving, but a Craving. The kind that ambushes you out of nowhere and takes your mental faculties captive.
This craving? Was for a Philly cheesesteak sandwich. Not a namby-pamby slap-some-meat-inside-a-hoagie kind of sandwich, but a proper Philly cheesesteak. I’ve only ever been to one place that made a proper cheesesteak, and it was in California (Philly’s Best in Lake Forest, if you’re curious).
Here are my qualifications for the perfect cheesesteak sandwich:
- Hoagie roll must be buttered on the insides and then grilled on the same grilling surface used for the steak. It must be fresh and soft on the outside but buttery and delicious and toasted on the inside.
- Steak must be shredded/sliced paper-thin and grilled using skillful spices the likes of which I could never possibly hope to comprehend.
- Sweet onions and peppers must be likewise grilled in beef fat and delicious spices but they can be sliced a little thicker.
- Cheese must be melted to near-liquidity and must be full-fat honest cheese. Not a plastic amalgamation.
- Must be served with thick french fries and these fries must come with a vat of marinara sauce for dipping.
Wes said he was willing to fly to California for me but I couldn’t bear the wait time so we settled on the closest sandwich approximation we could find: Quizno’s.
Not. The. Same. Thing. At. All.
Unless brined beef counts as steak, this was no cheesesteak sandwich. Sure, it had beef, and yes, it had cheese, but the bread was toasted with the beef already on it so it didn’t get toasty so much as it got soggy and difficult to eat.
The steak was enough to satisfy the baby, but it was so salty I feel like I made out with a salt lick for a few hours. I’ve been drinking water like a crazy person to make up for it but I have the feeling tomorrow’s looking swelly with a side of non-fitting wedding rings.
Also, let’s not even look at the fact that the sandwich had 1,000 calories.
So not worth it.
Am I missing something crucial in my Philly cheesesteak demands?
Excluding the fries, I agree with your list of requirements. The sandwich should also have enough juices from the meat, veggies and cheese to dribble down your chin uncontrollably, either (a) causing you to curse when you realize how much grease has now stained your shirt, or (b) causing you to stand or sit in an awkward hunched-over position while eating to avoid said staining. It should also have mayo but not lettuce. But since even Philadelphians disagree on the perfect sandwich, there seems to be a lot of latitude on the proper combination of ingredients. (Some swear by easy cheese…)
Some of the best cheese steaks I’ve eaten have been from those food trucks by the side of the road. 2nd best: an airport stand. 3rd best: an Italian restaurant.
And now I want a cheese steak at 9AM. I blame Squishy.
-Blanche, Mmmmmm, cheesesteak juices are like portable au jus! Mayo, huh? I hadn’t even thought about the necessity of mayo. I’d have to try it both ways to see which I prefer.
Maybe I’ll have to go to Philadelphia someday and just eat nothing but cheesesteak sandwiches to see which ones really measure up. That would an awesome blog post series.
Great series idea!
You could follow it up with a series of posts about your visit to the cardiac ward of the hospital.
-Blanche, You are a very funny lady, your comment made me literally laugh out loud :)