Last updated: December 9, 2024

In the Weeds

by Travis Mullis

To say that Cheat’s Cheesesteak Parlor is popular is an understatement. On my most recent visit for a quick lunch, the line was 10 deep and the construction crew from the new behemoth going up on Pecan and Central was walking up right behind me. At least 10 more people stopped by to pick up online orders in the short time it took me to get up to the order window. Cheat’s cooks were slammed, but it didn’t slow them down. The flattop inside was practically overflowing with finely chopped ribeye, chicken, and onion. It was an impressive sight. My loaded cheesesteak fries took all of 60 seconds to get to me. I made my way to their convenient picnic tables lined up neatly in the shadow of the Independence Boulevard overpass. As I settled into my lunch and watched people hurry back to their car with their meals or settle into a picnic table to chow down, I began considering Cheez Whiz versus provolone as the superior chees steak topping.

The City of Brotherly Love is well known for the Liberty Bell; Independence Hall; Rocky Balboa; gritty, diehard sports fans; and the Philly cheesesteak. The thing is, nobody can seem to agree on what cheese makes the best cheesesteak. Pat and Harry Olivieri, who created the sandwich in 1930, didn’t include cheese at all when they started selling their creation to hungry cab drivers in South Philly. The Olivieris’ now-famous restaurant, Pat’s King of Steaks, and their rival just across the street, Geno’s, offer both Cheez Whiz and provolone. I can just picture the angry comments pouring in now, but I’m going to proclaim it here for all to see: Cheez Whiz is the superior cheese for a Philly cheesesteak. It has a better consistency, better taste, and you’re not having to wait around for it to melt over the meat on the flattop. 

Now that I’ve thoroughly riled up half the state of Pennsylvania, allow me to point out that Cheat’s Cheesesteak seems to agree with my assessment. Their tagline, after all, is ”May the whiz be wit you.” Wit, as in how a native Philadelphian would ask for onions on their cheesesteak. To appease the angry masses, I’m not saying that provolone is bad. It’s a fine cheese. It gets the job done. It just doesn’t pack the same artery-clogging, salty punch as Cheez Whiz. And we can all agree that it’s superior to American cheese. Much like Velveeta, Cheez Whiz is a highly processed cheese product that became widely popular after its invention in 1952 at a time when shortcuts in the kitchen were all the craze. 

Cheat’s keeps their menu trim, which I appreciate, and the restaurant hasn’t been afraid to shift away from their initial processes to maintain quality sandwiches against such high demand. They’re committed to using the best ingredients, their steak is certified angus beef — currently 2 m.m. slices of top ribeye, a pivot from 3 m.m. top round. The steaks were formerly sliced in house, but the volume of orders made switching to meat cut by the vendor necessary to maintain quality while meeting that volume. The bread is shipped in from Philadelphia’s Liscio’s Bakery, a lesser known cheesesteak roll than Amoroso’s but one the Cheat’s staff taste tested as an improvement over that latter. Their Italian hoagie is equal to their cheesesteaks in flavor and that again comes down to their ingredients, which all taste as fresh as can be and have all the hallmarks of thoughtful sourcing. 

Aside from the high quality bread and meat, and the always comforting Cheez Whiz, the three things that make this the best cheesesteak in the city are its preparation, construction, and proportions. Cheat’s meat is well-diced and tender, which helps it to avoid the chewiness that dogs lesser cheesesteaks. It’s made quickly but not so quickly that it loses its slick torpedo shape to too much filling. After all, eating a sandwich shouldn’t be an exercise in seeing how much you can cram in your mouth. Lastly, they don’t overdo it on the Cheez Whiz, ensuring the sandwich doesn’t become too salty and too messy to eat with your hands. The simplicity of a cheesesteak can be deceptive. A lot of thought and care has to go into it before you take that first bite, a fact that is on splendid display at Cheat’s Cheesesteak. 

If I was looking for something to criticize at Cheat’s Cheesesteak, I’d be hard pressed to do so, but I might start with the fact that I do wish they had a better location. It’s is my firm hope that they eventually find a larger space that they can make their own and allow people to feel at home in. But until that day comes I will gladly wait in their fast-moving line, regardless of the weather. The cheesesteaks really are that good — and a great reminder that even a humble sandwich, regardless of your preferred cheese, can be so good that it comes to define a city.