Tales from the USA, Part 5: A Cheesesteak Odyssey
From Philadelphia to the UK, and back again
Earlier this year, I wrote about my visit(s) to the utopia that is Reading Terminal Market in Philadelphia, but what I didn’t write about was my search for the quintessential Philly food experience: the Philly Cheesesteak.
Oxford Learner’s Dictionaries defines a cheesesteak as “a sandwich made with a filling of thinly sliced grilled beef, melted cheese and, often, fried onions in a long bread roll.” But, as I discovered, it’s really so much more.
One of the first things I did in the City of Brotherly Love was take a walking tour of the area around the historic Independence Mall, to take in sights like Elfreth’s Alley, Independence Hall, and of course the Liberty Bell. On this tour, I got talking to Nathan from Brazil, who was visiting Philadelphia from Ohio (where he was studying for a PhD in Infectious Diseases) to take part in the Philadelphia Marathon.
During our conversation, Nathan mentioned that while the history and heritage of the Independence Mall were all well and good, what he really wanted to do was track down a Philly Cheesesteak. I knew at this moment I had found a kindred spirit.
The tour conveniently ended at lunch time, and the two of us decided to ask our tour guide for a cheesesteak recommendation. The tour guide explained that although his cardiologist had forbidden him from consuming cheesesteaks himself, he was reliably informed that the best cheesesteaks in the city could be found at Angelo’s Pizzeria, a 20-minute walk away on 9th Street.
He also gave us a few insider tips: for example, if given the choice between ‘cheese whiz’ or Provolone, we had to choose Provolone.
After an appetite-expanding walk, we arrived at Angelo’s to find a queue of hungry locals waiting outside, while an elderly Italian-American man shepherded people in and out. Inside was a hub of activity; a small area for customers in front of the order desk, and behind it the kitchen itself, staff bustling back and forth between ovens and work surfaces.
We were informed that our orders would take 25-30 minutes, but this was encouraging; it implied that our cheesesteaks were going to be crafted as opposed to simply churned out.
Finally, after half an hour spent watching happy customers leave with their cheesesteak or pizza, our names were called. Inside, we were handed two weighty parcels, and found a bench just around the corner to sit down and tuck in.
The magic of a cheesesteak, I reflected later, lies in the delicate balance between the three primary flavours - beef, onions, and cheese - combined with the crunchy texture of the roll. This is no simple snack; it’s a meal, and Nathan and I sat in the Philadelphia sun chomping away in contented silence.
In 2008, Philadelphia Magazine published a remarkable piece of anthropology called The Oral History of the Philly Cheesesteak. This article collects the stories of longtime cheesesteak vendors Frank Olivieri (of Pat’s King of Steaks), Bill Proetto (of Jim’s Steaks) and Joey Vento (of Geno’s Steaks) – plus a host of prominent locals – to uncover the origins of this Philadelphia favourite.
As per the article, the cheesesteak can be traced back to the 1930s, when hotdog vendor Pat Olivieri (Frank’s uncle) decided to experiment by filling a bread roll with scraps of beef instead of the usual sausage. A passing taxi driver commented on the unusual sandwich, and Pat agreed to split it with him. Impressed, the cab driver encouraged Pat to start selling the steak sandwiches, and before long Pat was doing so out of a building on Ridge Avenue.
In the 1940s, manager Joey Lorenza (described by Frank Olivieri as “always drunk, completely inebriated. A waste of our time”) had the idea of adding provolone cheese to the sandwich, and so the modern-day cheesesteak was born.
In the ‘60s, Pat’s moved to Passyunk Avenue, where it found itself in direct competition with Geno’s Steaks, located just across the street. The third ingredient in this triangular rivalry was Jim’s on South Street, whose cheesesteak was named the best in the city by Philadelphia Magazine in the late ‘70s. Pat’s, Geno’s and Jim’s are all still going today, with Jim’s reopening earlier this year after being destroyed by a fire in 2022.
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The cheesesteak is Philadelphia’s signature dish, with food enthusiasts from all over the world travelling to Philly in search of the authentic cheesesteak experience. The sandwich itself has travelled too; Philadelphia Magazine reported last year that cheesesteaks have become popular as far afield as Lahore, Pakistan.
Whether or not these international cheesesteaks capture the magic of the real deal is another question, and something I was keen to investigate upon my return to the UK.
Back in England, I was excited by the prospect of hunting down a cheesesteak in London. Surely, I reasoned, it would be possible to find this Philadelphia staple in such a diverse culinary metropolis. And it is – sort of.
Sure enough, I quickly located a restaurant that prides itself on serving authentic Philly Cheesesteaks. The early signs were good; the restaurant’s website goes out of its way to assuage fears about this not being the real deal. For example, one paragraph reads:
“If you’ve ever heard of Amoruso’s rolls in Philly, you know there is no substitute when it comes to Cheesesteaks and Italian Hoagies. We couldn’t import the real deal, but we did spend over three years perfecting our own recipe to recreate the classic.”
Deep down I already knew that this sandwich was unlikely to match up to the one I had experienced in Philly, but I was encouraged by the attention to detail. Cautiously excited, I set off with my sister on a cheesesteak expedition.
Arriving at the American Diner-style restaurant, we ordered two cheesesteaks with onions and provolone. They arrived quickly – too quickly. Already this was a worrying contrast to the lovingly prepared cheesesteaks at Angelo’s. It was also immediately clear that, despite what had been said on the website, this bread was not the bread, and, as mentioned above, the roll is just as important a part of the cheesesteak as the filling.
Speaking of the filling, the meat in this sandwich displayed all the tell-tale signs of being hastily reheated. We ate the sandwiches (I can’t bring myself to refer to them as cheesesteaks), but there was no escaping that this was a pale shadow of the real thing. The disappointment was crushing.
Several months later, I met my other sister for lunch in our hometown of Bedford. Scanning the menu, I spotted something called a “Philly Cheesesteak Sub.” Still recovering from the shock of the London cheesesteak experience, I wondered whether it would be wise to order this sandwich, but quickly realised this was something I needed to do. What if this was the one?
The sandwich arrived, and already I could see that this was a very different proposition to the ones I had sampled in Philadelphia and London. This was an actual steak inside a soft bread roll, with provolone cheese and something like a salsa sauce. And it was… very nice! While it wasn’t a Philly Cheesesteak, I could appreciate it as a dish inspired by a Philly Cheesesteak, and on that level I enjoyed it very much.
Despite this surprisingly pleasant experience, I still hoped that I could find something that recaptured the magic of Angelo’s - and it was becoming increasingly clear that this wasn’t going to happen in the UK.
I returned to the USA earlier this month. There was a lot I wanted to see and do, and, since I would be arriving and leaving from Philadelphia, while spending most of my time in Washington DC, I wondered if there would be time to track down a cheesesteak. No such luck upon my arrival in Philly, but at Union Station in DC I was surprised to see a Subway-style takeaway serving what claimed to be Philly Cheesesteaks. I was suspicious, but also hungry, so I put my doubts to one side and ordered one.
If there’s a single point in my cheesesteak journey that I could pinpoint as rock bottom, this would be it. This sandwich was a sad state of affairs. There are pictures, but frankly they’re too upsetting to publish here.
The one good thing about hitting rock bottom is that the only way is up, and thankfully this story has a happy ending. On my way back through Philadelphia, I returned to Reading Terminal Market, knowing that I was sure to find a cheesesteak here that, while potentially not on the level of Angelo’s, would surely be a step up from the various disappointments, curiosities and horrors I had experienced elsewhere.
There are several cheesesteak options at the market, and there wasn’t much time to decide which to go for. Eventually I picked Spataro’s, for two reasons: the words ‘Est. 1947’ printed on the sign, and the long queue of hungry locals and tourists winding around the stall. Surely whatever was at the end of this queue had to be good.
The open design of the stall meant that it was possible to watch the cheesesteaks being prepared by an experienced and well-oiled team. First the rolls were cut horizontally down the middle, then the slices of cheese were delicately placed on either side of the roll. Meanwhile, a large chunk of beef was deposited onto a frying surface where it was chopped as it cooked, before being shifted over to be mixed with the already sautéing onions.
Once ready, the filling was generously applied to the waiting roll, and then – and I think this is the crucial step – the sandwich was tightly wrapped in at least two layers of foil-lined wrapping, sealing in the flavour and allowing the cheese to melt into the beef and onions.
The parcel that was handed to me over the counter had encouraging weight to it, but I was still afraid that this could be another misadventure. However, all of my fears evaporated when I unwrapped the sandwich to reveal what was inside. Correction: this was no sandwich. This was a cheesesteak.
The unsurprising moral of this story? If you want a real Philly Cheesesteak, you have to go to Philadelphia.
The previous entries in the ‘Tales from the USA’ series are:
Tales from the USA: A (Short) Musical Journey Through NYC
In 2010 I took a trip to New York, and vowed to return as soon as possible. “As soon as possible” turned out to be 13 years later, but I finally made it back - and this time I was keen to explore some of the city’s rich musical history.
Tales from the USA, Part 2: Finding Marshall Allen
As I wrote in the very first post of this newsletter, one of my highlights of 2023 was seeing the Sun Ra Arkestra in concert for the first time.
Tales from the USA, Part 3: Reading Terminal Market
A few weeks ago, I wrote about travelling to Philadelphia in search of Jazz musician Marshall Allen. However, that’s not the only reason I was interested in going to Philly - I was also keen to get to know the city itself.
Tales from the USA, Part 4: The Mardi Gras Indians
(All photos in this article taken by me, unless otherwise noted)
This is like my quest to find a good deep dish pizza outside Chicago. No reason somewhere else couldn’t do it right. But they never do.