Category Archives: Cheesesteak

While on a recent trip to San Francisco, I found myself in the Marina District in between business meetings, hungry and in need of some beers.  Per the recommendation of a local, my friend and I headed over to Jake’s Steaks.

Walking in, we were greeted with a big “You’re in EAGLES COUNTRY” banner, as well as lots of other Eagles and Phillies paraphernalia.  The wall to the left is adorned with a blown up photograph of Boathouse Row.  And while small, the bar provided a nice late afternoon place to chill out, throw back some of their 22-ounce “pints,” and watch the Tigers and Twins battle for the AL Central playoff spot.

GET IT: At the counter, there was a small stand of Tastykake treats, which was definitely a nice touch.  However, I was a little put off by the menu telling me how to “properly” order a cheesesteak: “Go traditional, ‘Whiz with’ (This means: cheese Whiz, with onions!)”  How exciting!  Mind you, I’ve never been to a cheesesteak place in Philly outside of Pat’s or Geno’s that made me order with that vernacular.  Nevertheless, I ordered: “12 inch, Whiz, without,” and sat back down at the bar and continued with my beer and baseball.  After about an inning, I had my cheesesteak.

EAT IT: The sandwich came out on a delicious looking Amoroso roll, and the whiz was evenly distributed throughout the thinly diced steak, just how I like it (as opposed to the longer, wider cuts of a Geno’s or Pat’s steak).  They also don’t skimp on the meat, as this thing was loaded.  Not sure if this is the best way to describe it, but it was a little “soupier” than I’m accustomed to in that the juices from the steak and the Whiz, combined with how thin the steak was sliced, created an eating experience that didn’t involve as much chewing as a typical cheesesteak.  The only negative to this, really, is that I was able to hoover this thing down quicker than normal.

WELL? This sandwich definitely hit the spot.  Coupled with some brews, it was definitely an enjoyable eating experience.  Apart from the texture being slightly off, and throw in the price ($6.65 for 8 inch, $8.09 for 12 inch), thing was a HOME RUN!  (Get it?  Because I was watching baseball!  Home run???)  Mark it…

CHEESESTEAK!!!

I know, I know… if I can’t find a decent cheesesteak in New York, what makes me think I’ll find one in the middle of the desert of Tucson?

Well, first off, when you walk into the place, there’s a stand with a ton of brochures for Philly and Philly-area things, like Philadelphia Walking Tours, Outlet Stores (Limerick, PA, WOWOWOWOW!), Rehoboth Beach (eff Delaware), and some Jersey Shore points.  Not totally convincing, but a nice effort and a nice start.  Next, there’s the wall-to-wall decor 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…

GET IT: I went to the counter where I was greeted by Frankie himself.  When I told him I was from Philly, he immediately got excited and told me the cross streets where he grew up (3rd and Porter), and then asked what neighborhood I was from.  In an effort to not sound like a pussy, I dodged his question and just placed my order: “Provolone, without.”  That was it.  Done and done.  A few minutes later, I was handed my sandwich and I was out the door.

EAT IT: I must admit, when I unwrapped the thing, I teared up a little.  It looked beautiful.  Perfect amount of cheese.  Steak chopped just the right amount.  And the roll – Frankie flies in Philly’s own Amoroso rolls – smelled great.  On first bite, I knew right away: this is the BEST DAMN SANDWICH I HAVE EVER HAD OUTSIDE OF THE PHILLY/SOUTH JERSEY AREA.  PERIOD.  Now I can go on worrying about more important things, like “Will Brad Lidge blow another save today?” (yes), and “How long before some idiot from Kensington makes a mural of Michael Vick killing a dog with a Cowboys jersey on?” (less than two weeks).

WELL? Here I was, over 2000 miles away from Philadelphia, and someone finally figured out how to make a freaking cheesesteak.  All it took was a displaced South Philly guy named Frankie who has the balls to fly Amoroso rolls into Tucson, AZ.  So what did we learn?  People who grew up outside of Philadelphia are still idiots who don’t know what they’re doing.  Ladies and gentleman, we have our first…

CHEESESTEAK!!!