If you’ve read my review of Jake’s Steaks, you know I’m a big fan, and that I have faith that real cheesesteaks CAN be found in the Bay Area. That’s why I was very intrigued when a friend of mine said that I just HAD to try the steaks at Phat Philly in the Mission. While I resent the insinuation the restaurant’s name makes about my Philadelphia brethren and our weight issues, I can be swayed pretty easily.
GET IT: Several things rubbed me the wrong way as I made my way to the counter. First of all, there’s a “Pepper Bar” in the back that contains a selection of assorted hot sauces. I love hot sauce just as much as the next guy, but there’s no place for hot sauce (not to mention, such variety) on a cheesesteak.
Secondly, the place isn’t even a Philly bar! There’s absolutely no allegiance to any of the Philadelphia sports franchises, and the guy behind the counter looked at me like I was crazy when I asked about it. So, you’re going to steal the greatest sandwich ever invented from the greatest city ever established, use gimmicks like Tastykakes and Herr’s chips (“We ship these snacks in from Philly direct!”), and not have the decency to even PRETEND to support their sports teams? GTFO!!! This better be one damn good cheesesteak.
And finally, there’s the menu (see below). It lists the cheeses: “Whiz (for the purists), White American, Provolone or our all Natural House-Made Cheddar Beer Sauce made w/New Castle Beer.” For the love of God, Whiz is not for purists! Some people prefer Whiz, most people think it’s terrible, and outside of Pat’s and Geno’s, no one really offers it, at least not by default. And what is this “House-Made Cheddar Beer Sauce”? Sounds gross. No thanks. The menu also lists caramelized onions by default. So unless you specifically ask for the cheesesteak “without,” you’re getting those onions.
EAT IT: When I was handed my sandwich, I looked at it, wondering who got to it first (see pic at top of review). A thin layer of steak covered about half of the Amoroso real estate, reminiscent of a shitty diner in Atlantic City. When I bit into it, I found myself gasping for ketchup, something I resort to only when a cheesesteak is too dry. This thing was beyond dry, way too overcooked. They even managed to screw up the Amoroso roll, which seemed a little stale.
WELL? Well, Phat Philly taught us a couple valuable lessons. First, I will never take that friend’s advice about food ever again. Second, even if you manage to procure the right ingredients for a proper cheesesteak, you can still make a mess of it. Phat Philly, you can TAKE A HIKE!
NOT A CHEESESTEAK!











or of famous cheesesteak places. And not just your typical Pat’s and Geno’s, but also Jim’s, Tony Luke’s, and two of my favorites, Dalessandro’s and Chubby’s. What REALLY sold me, though, was the Frank Rizzo campaign poster. My late grandfather, an ex-Philly cop, once served as Frank Rizzo’s personal bodyguard. So, you know…


