For a good, wholesome cardiac arrest, few food items offer such good chances as a Philly Cheese Steak. Although I have never had one of these in Philly, and may be ill-equipped to judge, I have put down a few of those sandwiches in my day. The most recent of which came from Big Mike’s Philly Steaks & Subs in El Segundo. Typically any restaurant that has “Big” in it’s name is a hit with me, unless it precedes something stupid like “Head of Lettuce” or “Fungus Lovers.”
Keeping things simple, I ordered a twelve-inch Philly Cheese Steak. The sandwich really should not be called this, as it comes with onions and peppers. I mean really, if you’re going to call it a cheese steak, I’m okay with it, just make sure it’s only cheese and steak. Now I just think of it as a tease, when the sandwich should really be called the Philly Cheese Onion Pepper Steak. I ordered mine without the dirty vegetables and a side of garlic fries.
The sandwich I was given was a full twelve inches of meaty, cheesy beauty. I ate through it voraciously, pausing seldom along the way to remove steak bits from my teeth. I don’t recall being offered a choice of cheeses, yet their online menu says I could have had White American, Provolone or Cheez Whiz. I think my cheese ended up being White American, and the sandwich could have used a bit more of it. The fries made quite the partner to the sandwich, but they were loaded with enough garlic to frighten away any vampires and potential kiss partners within a thirty-mile radius of my breath. Next time I’ll ask them to go easy on the garlic and heavier on the cheese.