The 10 Best Cheesesteaks You've Never Had

Let our expert expand your grease-stained horizons.

by Carolyn Wyman

Mark Stehle

Business sizzles on warm summer evenings at traditional-format outdoor cheesesteak stands in greater Philly, where an overstuffed agenda of grilled meat, escaping the heat and seeing and being seen cooks up a festive boardwalk vibe.

I know this because I spent most of last summer visiting cheesesteak stands to write my new Great Philly Cheesesteak Book (Running Press, $15.95), a comprehensive guidebook to our city's favorite food, including history, recipes and the stories behind some of the area's favorite steakeries.

My book does not rank the stands. Still, after eating cheesesteaks at more than 50 local shops, it's hard not to have an opinion on what makes a great steak: a fresh roll that's neither too hard nor too flabby; cheese that is noticeable but not overwhelming; meat that has the chew of steak without being tough or gristly; onions that are neither raw nor so caramelized as to resemble ketchup; and for all four of these elements to alchemize into a taste and texture that is distinctively and uniquely cheesesteak.

The biggest surprise of this book project was how many cheesesteaks lived up to my ideal and how few were truly junk food. In fact, probably no more than half a dozen steaks were so greasy as to require the famous "Philly lean" (that is, holding the steak out in front of you so the grease falls on the ground instead of on your shoes and clothes).

No, I'm not going to name those names, nor am I going to tell you things you probably already know, like that Pat's, Geno's, Dalessandro's, Tony Luke's, John's Roast Pork, Steve's Prince of Steaks and Chink's are worth checking out. Even the casual student of local cheesesteak culture has also probably heard of rising stars like Sonny's Famous, the Grey Lodge Pub, Johnny's Hots and Talk of the Town.

The following list, in nonpartisan alphabetical order, is instead for people who are ready for a graduate-level course of cheesesteak exploration and appreciation.

Carolyn Wyman Barry's door boasts of its longevity. (CLICK IMAGE FOR LARGER VERSION)

Still traumatized by the 2008 sale of cheesesteak icon Dalessandro's (aka Delly's)? You might want to check out this 20-year-old steak stand owned by Dalessandro's vet Barry McGuinn.

McGuinn worked with founder William Dalessandro from 1967 to 1988, doing everything but ordering supplies. "He was like a father to me," says McGuinn. Still, when Dalessandro got sick in the 1980s, it was his real son and daughter who took over the business. So Barry took what he learned and opened his own place — first at Ridge and Leverington and, since 1995, in a long narrow space with an 18-stool counter just down the street.

Barry tweaked Delly's pizza sauce recipe and says his purchased sirloin is more consistent and less gristly than his late mentor's shop-cut ribeye. Barry's Steaks also don't come stabbed with forks as per Delly-started widespread Manayunk-Roxborough custom. Still, fans of the old Dalessandro's might find much that is familiar and pleasing in Barry's well-balanced blend of finely chopped steak, cheese and quarter-size cubes of sweet onions.

Carolyn Wyman Meat stacked up on Claymont's marathon grill. (CLICK IMAGE FOR LARGER VERSION)

In the days following Joe Biden's selection as Obama's running mate, much was made of the widowed senator's grueling daily train trips from Washington to Delaware, ostensibly to be with his kids. Having been to Biden's favorite steak shop, I suspect a less noble motivation.

Claymont Steak Shop is located in Delaware off the interstate. It has a parking lot and a building large enough to accommodate bus groups (which it actually often does), and is owned and run by a Greek woman with an MBA (named Demi Kollias). In short, Claymont is everything a great steak shop usually is not.

And yet it was my personal favorite cheesesteak of all I tried for my book. When I dream of having a cheesesteak, Claymont's is the one that dances in my head — even though I generally prefer slab-style steak and Claymont's is chopped.

It's because of the meat, which is so thinly sliced and tender that it chews like butter. The taste is almost as sweet. That could be because Claymont is among the few local steak shops (if not the only one) that is also a meat wholesaler and so can totally control the quality of its beef.

Shirley Fonner Robert Lucas showing off his dad's unique take on the cheesesteak. (CLICK IMAGE FOR LARGER VERSION)

This bar's unique cheesesteak on a kaiser is the best reason I can think of to get over your fear of Camden. Onion is the dominant taste of a Donkey's cheesesteak. The onion pieces simmer on the grill with the meat so long as to resemble condensed onion soup from Camden neighbor Campbell's. The poppy seeds on the kaiser roll register next, along with the surprising tenderness of the shop's folded-over thick ribeye slices. The steaks were never made of donkey meat: Donkey was the nickname of Donkey's founder, Leon Lucas, a light heavyweight boxing champ. His son, current owner Robert, says Donkey had "a punch like the kick of a mule."

Today Donkey's doubles as a museum of old Camden: The beautiful dark wooden bar is surrounded by old-fashioned soda machines, a Budweiser-Clydesdale lamp, framed pictures of athletes from the early 1900s and an ax from "the last Market Street ferry" that could come in handy (or possibly cause even worse trouble) should some of the roughness of Donkey's neighborhood wander in.

Carolyn Wyman Marlene Frusco shows off her shop's tile décor. Carolyn Wyman Mr. V's neon and steel. (CLICK IMAGES FOR LARGER VERSIONS)

Best friends who don't see each other anymore, marriages that go kaput: They're usually bad for the principal players. But they turned out to be good things for fans of Northeast-style cheesesteaks. Where once there was only one good place to get these sandwiches, there are now at least three: at Steve Iliescu's original Steve's Prince of Steaks, at Steve's ex-manager Pete Varanavage's Mr. V's and at Varanavage's ex-wife's Frusco Steaks.

Iliescu was best man at Marlene Frusco and Varanavage's wedding. But Varanavage and Iliescu have barely spoken since Varnavage left Steve's and Frusco opened her steak shop in 1994. Varanavage opened Mr. V's just outside the Franklin Mills Mall shortly after he and Frusco went splitsville two years ago. Both spots mimic the Prince's enclosed outdoor stand building design and slab-style ribeye sandwich doused in the white American cheese sauce that is found only in the Northeast.

Although supposedly inspired by Pat's slabs, Northeast ribeye is much thicker — at least a quarter of an inch. This is steak worthy of the name but at Frusco and Mr. V's, it's also tender enough that you can eat it with your teeth.

Why the combo entry? Because Frusco and Mr. V's steaks are so similar and their owners' relationship, if not as tender as their steaks, is friendly. Frusco is actually the person who first turned me on to Mr. V's.

Carolyn Wyman Leo's pink elephant of a building. (CLICK IMAGE FOR LARGER VERSION)

Take the 102 trolley from Philadelphia's western suburbs to the Sharon Hill trolley shack and you will be at Leo's Steak Shop's original tiny 1972 location. How tiny was it? So tiny that employees who went up to the second floor to do prep work had to shout down for permission to come back down. If there were more than a few customers, there wouldn't be room.

When SEPTA decided to turn the building back into a trolley shack in 1987, Leo's responded by moving across the street to just about the largest steak shop in the area, serving up equally huge sandwiches. Their 18-inchers are packed with more chopped ribeye than the rush-hour Schuylkill has traffic. Forget chopped — this meat is pulverized (the clanging from the spatula on the grill is so loud you can practically hear it across the street).

Fans of Jim's will love both the steaks and the lack of long lines of tourists unless they're also fans of Cheez Whiz: Like most shops outside of South Philly and the Northeast, Leo's default and best-selling cheese is American slices. Unlike most, Leo's has banned Whiz from the premises. "Cheez Whiz is too far down on the scale of foods in our opinion," says co-owner Jack Mullan, the late Leo's brother.

Carolyn Wyman Mama's super-cheesy mushroom steak. (CLICK IMAGE FOR LARGER VERSION)

In an ideal world, the cheesesteak would be a perfect balance of meat, steak, onions and cheese. Alas, we do not live in an ideal world, only a very good one for cheese-lovers who get their cheesesteaks from Mama's Pizza. Mama's chopped ribeye and crunchy-sweet onion sandwich on an extra-wide manly roll has OD'd on a secret blend of three shredded cheeses.

This lactose-intolerant's nightmare and Mama's equally unusual tablecloth-and-flower-vase décor both have their origins in Mama's roots as a full-service Italian restaurant named for current owner Paul Castullucci Jr.'s paternal grandmother. Paul Jr.'s mother, Miriam, started making cheesesteaks in a frying pan by customer demand, and because it wasn't planned, she used the pizza cheese she had on hand.

Carolyn Wyman Pagano's vintage moving sign. (CLICK IMAGE FOR LARGER VERSION)

The fear and dread that accompanied Alexandros Apsis' spring 2008 purchase of the legendary Dalessandro's was understandable but perhaps unwarranted. The son of a butcher, Apsis is the veteran owner of two other successful local steak shops, including this West Oak Lane neighborhood favorite.

Pop culture enthusiasts will drool over the shop's 38-year-old moving neon sign, but for locals, it's all about the beefy sandwiches. Pagano's finely chopped ribeye overwhelms the soft Amoroso's roll — and every other ingredient. The shop is takeout-only, and the interior has all the charm of a PennDOT driver's license office. Apsis is just putting our money where it belongs: into the steaks.

Carolyn Wyman Philip's yellow fluorescent-lit sidewalk. (CLICK IMAGE FOR LARGER VERSION)

I first heard about Philip's from Evelyn Perri of the soon-to-move Shank's & Evelyn's luncheonette. Not surprisingly, Philip's cheesesteaks are equally delicious and South Philly authentic. How authentic? Stand namesake and founder Philip Narducci is currently in the big house for racketeering offenses.

Philip's has the outdoor ordering stand design, traffic island setting and 24/7 schedule of East Passyunk Avenue's cheesesteak junction without the long lines. It's as clean as Geno's but without Geno's politics. They serve ribeye in the South Philly style pioneered by Pat's, meaning slabs of meat slathered with Cheez Whiz (although many would argue that the Philip's ribeye is better, and American and provolone slices are also options). The circa 1983 stand is also one of a handful of steakeries that still offer old-fashioned favorites like birch beer soda and pizza cheesesteaks made with tomato slices and Italian spices (as well as ones made with the usual red sauce).

The tourists give Pat's and Geno's plenty of business. Locals should drive five minutes southwest on Passyunk to Philip's.

Carolyn Wyman Domenic Spataro with his grill man. (CLICK IMAGE FOR LARGER VERSION)

No merchant leaves Philly's publicly owned Reading Terminal Market quietly. But few battles were as fierce or prolonged as the one cheesesteak lovers staged on behalf of Rick's Steaks (which recently reopened in the basement food court of the Bellevue). Perhaps Rick's defenders didn't know about Spataro's, another Reading Terminal Market stand that, since fall 2006, has been making one of Center City's best cheesesteaks.

Spataro's co-owners, Domenic Charles Spataro, 92, and son Domenic Mark Spataro, 54, are related to the co-owner of the Cherry Hill, N.J., shop that won Philadelphia magazine's 2003 best cheesesteak award — deservedly so. Chick's Deli's Tony Della Monica taught the Domenics how to reproduce his elegant steak, including how to cut up Spanish onions thin enough that they can be cooked to crispy-sweet doneness simultaneous with the highly flavorful but not-at-all-greasy meat.

Spataro's actually dates back to 1947, when it specialized in buttermilk with accompanying tea sandwiches. Old favorites like cream cheese and olive, liverwurst and onion and egg and tomato are still offered. But the cheesesteaks are better.

Disappointed not to see a write-up on your favorite steak place? It's probably among the 30 others in my book. Or perhaps not. There are 7,500 restaurants in Philadelphia, most of which serve cheesesteaks. I'm sure there are lots of great places I didn't get to — I needed to keep my cheesesteak bills down so that I would still have money to pay for cholesterol-lowering drugs and dry cleaning for grease stains.

Carolyn Wyman is assistant copy editor at City Paper and an author and nationally syndicated newspaper food columnist. She also leads food tours at Reading Terminal Market. More information about her Great Philly Cheesesteak Book and related July 11 cheesesteak bicycle tour and July 22 Free Library slideshow/talk can be found at greatphillycheesesteakbook.com.