Steak wit'

Pat Olivieri probably didn’t know, more than 75 years ago, that he had created a city-defining sandwich when he sliced up a rib-eye steak, slapped it into a roll and tossed some onions and melted cheese on top for lunch. But the cheese steak, as it would be called, became the iconic Philadelphia food.

It’s not hard to explain the basics of a cheese steak to someone who’s never had one. The name gives it all away – cheese and steak. Put it on a fresh Italian roll. Add some fried onions if you like (Philly natives know it’s your first time if you skip the onions). Sure, there are all sorts of variations: cheese steak hoagies, pizza steaks, mushroom steaks…the list goes on. But the original recipe is pretty damn simple.

More difficult is explaining the cheese steak’s essence – why that brown and yellow mess in your hand is actually the most deliciously satisfying meal you could imagine. You just have to devour one for yourself.

The Olivieri family is still grilling up the best cheese steaks in town at Pat’s King of Steaks (that’s the full name but, really, everyone just calls it Pat’s) on Passyunk Avenue in South Philly. Tourists come looking for a cheese steak, and some get distracted by the imitators that have popped up along South Street, in shopping malls, and in the wilds of suburbia. They think that all cheese steaks are created equal. But when the sign on the window advertises “Real Philly Cheesesteaks!!!,” you can be pretty sure they’re not.

You know that someone has done their research when they ask how to get to the corner of 9th Street and Pass-ee-unk Avenue (please explain to them that it’s much easier to just say Pass-yunk). They’re probably looking for Pat’s Steaks; hopefully they don’t get lost and accidentally end up across the street at Geno’s. Oh, what folly.

But once they get to the window to order , make sure they know how. Those counter guys show no mercy if you screw it up. If you want a steak sandwich with cheese wiz and fried onions, just say, “Steak wit’.” The only place to get gooey melted cheese whiz on a steak is Pat’s – anywhere else, you’re better off with some sliced provolone rather than the unnaturally orange liquid mess they squirt on, which will drown your steak in tangy artificial flavoring. (Why, for goodness' sake, don't the other places don’t buy their whiz from Pat’s suppliers? Maybe it’s some sort of trade embargo to keep Geno’s from ever truly being able to compete.)

The line is usually too long to politely ask for a “cheese steak sandwich with cheese whiz and fried onions, please,” and you’ll probably get laughed at anyway while someone tells you what you did wrong. Try again.

Fight back the tears of embarrassment while they giggle and make your sandwich. It’s worth it. As soon as you receive your steaming bundle of meat, cheese, vegetables (onions count as veggies, right?) and grease, you will have to sit right down at one of Pat’s outdoor tables and inhale it. It’s just too messy to be mannerly.

But even this is an art. Eat too slow, and the cheese will begin to drip down your hands and burn your wrist. Too fast, and each gluttonous bite will push the steak out the back of the roll until you have some cheesy bread in your hand and a pile of steak and onions in your lap. Steady, there, you’ll be fine.

The best time to go to Pat’s is around 2:00 or 3:00 in the morning, right after the fresh Amoroso Italian rolls have been delivered, hot and soft enough to form a mold around your hand. No better late-night snack than half a pound of thinly sliced steak after a long night of drinking at the bars, or especially after the Eagles win on Sunday, the Sixers pull it out in overtime, or the Flyers drop another game to slip further down in the standings. Comfort food. And several hundred of your closest friends stand in line and order the same thing – Steak wit’.